Between Two Evils
Chapter 8
Lotor leaned back in his chair, “Lord-Governor Licinus.”
He watched, smirking, as the man on the viewscreen visibly preened at the sound of his new title, smoothing a hand over his rich clothing, and bowed low. “Greetings, Your Majesty.” Licinus had not been a member of the existing nobility when Lotor had made the planet his own, but rather an ambitious—and completely amoral—member of the late ruler's court.
“Do you have the names for me?”
Licinus sobered in a way that he probably thought was appropriate. “Yes, your Majesty. As you have ordered, so I obey. I have found out those who would resist your wise and benevolent rule.”
“Excellent. Let me see them.”
Lotor leaned forward and quickly read the list that appeared.
There was one name that made him take his own sweet time in giving the Lord-Governor his attention again. When he finally did, the man showed no sign of nervousness.
“You've done well, Lord-Governor,” he said, after a moment, making his tone warm and approving. He thought he saw the man relax subtly. “And now I must ask you to carry out another difficult duty. I want it to be swift, and as simultaneous as possible. Keep their executions private—people fear the unseen—but make the reason for it very public. Use your name and seal liberally, Licinus,” he said, “The people need to get used to seeing it—and fearing it.”
When he had closed the connection, he frowned.
It wasn't unexpected for the list to be salted with the new Lord-Governor's personal enemies; the possibility didn't bother him; it would only make Licinus more hated. The problem was that one of the nobles on the list was intended to be the new new Lord-Governor after Licinus had served his purpose. Licinus was either very bold—or completely oblivious.
Or perhaps the noble had been a bad choice, and the man had just done him a favor.
He toyed with the idea of letting it go. This was the last of his business, and he had every intention of being back in bed with his wife before she woke. Instead, he said a name, and after a moment a familiar face appeared on the viewscreen.
“Good morning, Sire.”
“Commander. Tell me, how are my new subjects taking to their Lord-Governor?”
“They hate him,” Cossack said, cheerfully. As the commander ran through recent events on the ground—which included a number of abuses of power that Cossack had no doubt enjoyed facilitating—it didn't take long to discover why Lotor's prospective replacement was on the current Lord-Governor's hit list. It seemed that Licinus had thought his new title and standing made him more than worthy of any noble wife he chose only to discover that the head of the House Andeon did not agree—affirming Lotor's estimation of her political instincts. Cossack had refused to act against Andeon without higher authorization, adding to the humiliation, something Licinus had probably thought never to experience again.
“All over a woman...” Lotor scoffed.
“Yeah, imagine that.”
It took him a moment to absorb the implication of Cossack's wry tone.
When he did, Lotor gave him a look that said that he was Not Pleased. It had no effect—if anything, Cossack's smile widened, but there was nothing he could say without looking like a fool. It was an undeniable fact that Cossack was babysitting Licinus right now instead of enjoying his own share of the wealth of Arus and Medea.
He quelled his irritation with surprising difficultly. Acquiring Allura had been strategic; someday that would be clear. In the meantime, he had no intention of explaining himself to his subordinates. “See to it that Andeon, and her household if she likes, take an unexpected vacation. Do it immediately.”
“Yes, sire. One surprise vay-cay, coming right up.”
“Licinus is going to be busy for the next week or so. After that...” Lotor smiled slightly. “I'll let you to decide whether a pauper's grave or a public display of his corpse would be more acceptable to the populace. Express my deepest regrets for his excesses, of course.”
“Of course,” Cossack's own smile was wide enough to show the tips of his fangs.
Lotor found his steps quickening with anticipation as he traversed the nearly empty corridors on his way back to his quarters. When he walked quietly into the main room, he was pleased to see that the lights were all still dim or off. It was as he hoped: Allura was still asleep. He walked through to the bedchamber, his eyes drawn immediately to the woman in his bed. It was a sight that never failed to give him a feeling of pleasure and triumph. He walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at his prize as he stripped off his clothes. She was curled on her side, her lovely little face pressed into his pillow.
In spite of his efforts to the contrary, there was still an air of purity about her, even innocence. Lotor doffed the last of his clothes and reached for the cover, sliding in next to her between the warm, fragrant sheets.
He had never been interested in virgins. Perhaps some men felt they couldn't stand the comparison, but he didn't happen to be one of them; he had no need to subject himself to amateurs. The powerful royal houses that he had previously expected to marry within would have seen to it that their offspring received a proper education; ignorance was never a position of strength. He began to stroke her in time to her breaths, enjoying the satin smoothness of her skin, keeping his touch just firm enough not to tickle. His smile widened when she sighed and relaxed under his touch instead of rousing.
What was different about Allura, he didn't know and didn't particularly care, but just the thought of getting into her, that most basic of acts, brought him to a state of anticipation and excitement he hadn't experienced in a long time.
His gaze moved to the pink curve of her mouth. After a time, he saw her lips part with her deepened breath as he began to touch her breasts and between her legs with the same even, careful strokes. He'd never cared much for kissing either, but Allura's mouth was just as soft as it looked; it was never greasy with paint or sour with wine.
Perhaps because his goal had been to possess her rather than simply to bed her, he found he rather liked having her all to himself. She was great fun to scandalize. And—just sometimes—when he was showing her exactly what her sleek little body was made for, he would see a look of helpless wonder on her face; it gave him a rush that left him feeling no less than a god.
Allura woke to warmth and softness and a hand stroking over her skin. She was already flushed a little with arousal. She knew why he ambushed her this way, and that made it less effective—but not by very much.
“Don't you have some planets to conquer?” She was less inhibited in her speech as well when she was half asleep.
He only laughed. “You heard my father's orders. I'm hard at work, conquering Arus.” A warm, mischievous tongue lapped over her nipple sending a wash of pleasure over her skin.
Allura drifted, divinely comfortable, his lazy caresses just enough to keep her from going under completely. She was vaguely aware his leg easing between hers, of his sex against her thigh. When he came into her, it would be just as slow and seemingly aimless as the touch of his mouth and hands. But it would end rather differently and with her legs tight around his hips.
She made a sighing, humming sound. A lock of his hair tickled her nose. “You smell like Yule cookies,” she murmured.
His mouth lifted from her skin. “What?”
“Ginger spice cookies Nanny makes.” She frowned, a little restless without his touch. “I checked the shampoo and the soap— 's just you.”
“And is that a good smell?” He began to stroke and kiss her again.
“Mmmm.”
“Very good?” His fingers slipped between her thighs.
She sighed and shifted her legs a little farther apart.
“Allura, tell me.”
“Yes,” she said. “Very, very good.”
***
Allura watched over the back of the divan as Lotor blocked and slashed, growling when his opponent made a particularly clever move. The shadowy, faceless figure managed to sweep his legs from under him, but Lotor blocked the blow meant to split his skull like a melon and rolled to his feet, cutting his opponent off at the knees. His sword met empty air, the blue arc humming just under his rival's feet.
The fight continued, faster and faster, the thump of feet and the clash of blades made a fraught music. Allura leaned forward, feeling an impulse to join the battle; instinct told her that the end was near, the window of opportunity closing. Between one breath and the next, the swift rhythm was broken. Lotor grunted when he took a blow to the face that made him falter. He made no attempt to block the sword that was already cutting him fatally from hip to shoulder—with a vicious snarl, he slashed across his opponent's unprotected throat making the apparition spit and flare just before it blinked out of existence.
Allura let out the breath she was holding. Lotor turned. Caught, there was nothing to do but brazen it out.
“Temper, temper,” she said, pleased with how even her voice sounded.
He sheathed his sword and walked over to her, rubbing a hand over his bare stomach. He was wearing loose draw-string pants of some sort, but she suspected it was for protection rather than modesty. It seemed it was quite painful when the trainer landed a blow, though it did no true damage. He braced his hands on the divan to either side of her and looked down into her upturned face. Then he smiled. “How very nice for you—you still get to watch me lose.” He bent until his lips brushed hers, “But I always get the princess.” He kissed her thoroughly, one hand holding the back of her head.
He did lose. His opponent became progressively faster, displaying—and perhaps the source of—Lotor's truly spectacular reflexes. More often than not, it became too fast for him before he could strike it a fatal blow. She would have expected him to have the thing programmed to let him win—and then tell him it was an honor to be beaten by someone so handsome.
He pulled back to look with satisfaction at her flushed face. She felt herself color more deeply. “I have an academic interest,” she said. It was true. “I was starting to learn before—” she shrugged.
He looked at her for a moment and then said, “If you like, I will teach you.”
Allura blinked. “You will?” The interested note in her voice checked her. She frowned, wary. “Why would you...”
His smile widened. "Teach you how to kill me? Why not?” Just then his gizmo chimed. He gave her a quick, firm kiss. “But not now. We'll be going soon.”
As he turned in the direction of the bedroom, he said over his shoulder, “Somewhere civilized for once.”
***
“Will I be working with that thing?” In spite of firm instructions to herself not to put too much faith in anything Lotor said, she found herself asking him questions about the promised lessons.
Lotor smiled and settled her closer against his chest. “I think I will be enough of a challenge for you at this stage. You don't like the trainer.”
“No,” she admitted. The room always seemed much brighter after it disappeared.
Allura leaned forward and looked out the window of the vehicle they were riding in. The glass was thick enough to block sound and probably other things as well; at the moment it was on a privacy setting, opaque from the outside. Unlike his ship, the passenger area was roomy and luxurious, yet somehow she was still seated on his lap. Allura was conscious of their closeness in a way she hadn't been in some time. Her gown covered everything decently enough, and it skimmed her curves rather than fitting to them, but the fabric was thin and silky and the matching wisp of an undergarment and frail stockings that she had been given to wear did little to make her feel more clothed. Lotor's own elegant clothing was a bit more substantial perhaps, but she could still feel the fine material slide over his skin and her own whenever she moved. It was distracting.
They had left behind the neighborhood of gates and walls and warmly-lit, sprawling homes, just glimpsed through the spiky foliage. Now they were on a narrow winding street, clean and well-lit, watched over by three-story townhouses adorned with balconies and curls and swirls of stone.
She began to see people, all walking in the direction they were going. Allura stared, forgetting for a moment about the attractive nuisance whose lap she warming.
They were all costumed, every one. She could not hear their voices or see their expressions, but heads bent together and the animation of their movements spoke eloquently of pleasure and anticipation. Many of the costumes were plain: dark fabrics, pale, simple masks. Set against their somber backdrop were the most extravagant forms of dress she had ever seen. There was no pattern to it: rich colors and pale ones; stiff brocades and plump velvets elaborately embroidered and beaded; ethereal wisps that floated and danced; plumes and ruffs, turbans and top hats, crowns and caps; jewels flashed in the light of the street lamps, too spectacular to be real. Allura touched a gloved, be-ringed hand to her own throat and the heavy necklace she wore.
A sudden thought had her looking more closely at the pendant street lamps, taking in their signature shape. “Nephalem,” she murmured. “You've brought me to Nephalem.” Her initial wonder and curiosity turned to dismay.
“So you've heard of it.”
“Of course I have,” she said, her voice stilted.
Nephalem's glory days might have passed centuries ago, but it was the home port of many powerful families who traced their fortunes back to that heady beginning. It was known throughout the galaxy for its extravagant festival periods, its theater and music, its potent intoxicants, and its strictly regimented society.
Nephalem was also infamous: its gaming, brothels and courtesans were legendary.
“Do you come here often?” she asked weakly, pulling back from the window and looking at him. Her mind began to conjure up vague but very unpleasant ways the evening might be headed.
Lotor watched her over the top of his wine glass as he took a leisurely sip. “Whenever my duties allow me,” he said, licking his lips in a way that showed a mere hint of his pink tongue. Allura stilled.
His next words made her grow cold. “I've been very patient with you, Allura, but it's time we expanded your horizons. I thought we'd go straight to the markets. With Festival starting, the selection might picked over if we wait; I'm hoping to find a set of twins that complement your coloring.” As she stared at him, he reached out and slowly rubbed the rim of his glass against her lower lip. The dark, heady scent of the exotic wine filled her senses. Lotor's golden eyes widened a little with anticipation. “Don't look so worried, Allura. A little of this, and you won't mind at all. Who knows, you might even teach them a few tricks.”
Beginning to feel more than a little sick, she clasped her hands together in her lap and concentrated on maintaining her dignity—as long as she would be allowed to anyway—her eyes followed the glass as he brought it back to his own lips.
He settled back against the seat, the touch of one hand burning against the curve of her hip. His amused expression didn't change as he took his time draining the glass. Allura met his gleaming look with one of cool dismissal at first, and then with a growing suspicion. Her suspicion coalesced into certainty when he finished the wine without saying anything more and tossed the empty glass onto the seat beside him. Nearly light-headed with relief and anger, she turned her head away from him with a disgusted sound, nearly lost in his low laughter.
“I've only been here once, and that years ago,” he said.
When she shot him an angry, skeptical look, he smiled, but this time there was little humor in it. “When I graduated from the academy my father refused me the command that was my right. The old man knew that it would be the beginning of the end of his rule. I set out to conquer Nephalem instead. I was young. I may have been a bit—full of myself.”
Say it's not so, Allura thought, still fighting an urge to throttle him.
“I let it be known that I had made a list of the ten most desirable women in the city, and that I intended to enjoy them all. I was novel, beautiful, powerful, fearless. For a time, Nephalem was delighted with me, and I with it. They watched me closely to see who I favored.” He said nothing for a moment, then, “Aren't you going to ask me if I succeeded, Allura?”
“If that is your wish.”
Lotor laughed at her chilly tone, and gave her hip an affectionate squeeze. He gazed out the window at the passing crowd. “I did not,” he said, without rancor. “I had not gotten very far at all before Father relented. I—” He hesitated then, and his eyes narrowed.
“Nephalem had already ceased to amuse me,” he finished smoothly.
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