Sapient Salvation 3: The Divining (Sapient Salvation Series) Read online

  There was a naïve little part of me that refused to believe we could not be together, that we could not belong to each other and only each other. My heart could not come to terms with reality, it seemed, no matter how hard I tried to reason with it.

  I sat in bed with the light on and a book open in my lap. It was late, and I knew I should try to get some rest—I might not have the chance for much sleep the next night—but my mind buzzed and my eyelids refused to drop.

  Finally, I got up, slipped into a robe, and wandered around my apartment. I wondered whether the upgrade of the anti-portal devices around Lord Toric’s chambers had been completed. Perhaps he would decide he no longer wished to put so many resources toward my protection and would banish me back to the lower level with the rest of the Obligates.

  I found myself standing inside the water closet that housed the toilet in my expansive bathroom. I looked around for a moment, wondering why I’d ended up there, before I remembered something I’d discovered recently. I believed the back wall of my water closet adjoined a wall of Lord Toric’s bathroom.

  Through the wall I’d heard water running on more than on occasion, and in my mind I’d tried to map out his chambers in relation to mine. My apartment was in fact a sub-area of the Lord’s chambers, but for some reason, at first it had not occurred to me that we shared any walls.

  I chewed my lower lip for a moment, hesitating, and then pressed my ear to the wall. It was late, and he was probably already in bed. But perhaps if I heard sounds and tapped against the wall . . . it was beyond stupid and really quite childish, but a part of me hoped Lord Toric would hear my signal and somehow know I wanted him.

  But I heard nothing but silence. With a sigh, I left the water closet and went into the adjoining bathroom, thinking a hot bath might make me sleepy.

  Just as I reached for the faucet, a noise caught my attention. I turned toward the high window, which was vented a couple of inches.

  Was that . . . ? My eyes widened, and my fingers flew to my lips as a male voice groaned and cried out.

  A female voice seemed to answer, though I wasn’t sure if words were spoken or if it was just the sounds of . . . of . . .

  My hands sank to my sides. I knew that voice as well as if the owner were standing here with me. It was Lord Toric’s.

  My heart froze as it hit me—he was not alone.

  So, he was making use of his harem. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had no right to be angry or jealous, but a torrent of ugly emotions churned up through me.

  I stood there for a moment longer and then spun around, slamming the bathroom door behind me.

  I’d decided. I would make the seduction challenge agony for Lord Toric. I would torment him until he begged for mercy. But I would not give in. I would not give myself to him.

  *

  I spent the next day in an anxious daze, weary from lack of sleep but keyed up in anticipation of the challenge. My nerves felt brittle and stretched too thin, and my eyes dry and tired.

  Kalindi and I were tied for first place in the ranks of favor, and because I’d won the previous challenge I would go first. In just a few hours, I would begin my night with Lord Toric.

  For the first time in several days, I considered my competition. Kalindi was trained for just this sort of challenge, and I had no doubt she would do well. My only advantage over her was my personal connection with Lord Toric, and I had no idea if it would give me enough of an edge to beat her, especially after things between me and Lord Toric had recently cooled.

  Britta was only one point behind me in the ranks of favor. Although she’d been trained back on Earthenfell for the Tournament, I suspected a seduction challenge would prove difficult for her. She was quick thinking, strong, lithe, and athletic, but I was hard-pressed to imagine her trying to flirt and seduce.

  Meribel was within striking distance of the lead as well, and she had also trained for years. She was pretty and probably well trained in charm and the sensual arts, but she wasn’t genuine the way Kalindi and even Britta clearly were. Still, Meribel was a threat.

  Cheytan was in last place, seven points behind me, and Kalindi and probably out of the running.

  I took a few deep breaths, trying to still my anxious, spinning thoughts. I knew I couldn’t control or even know how the others performed, and I shouldn’t waste energy worrying about it.

  I had a plan. It would require me to push my own boundaries, baring myself in a multitude of ways I never had before. I would have to show vulnerability while controlling the tone and pace of my interaction with Lord Toric. Setting aside self-consciousness and hesitation wouldn’t be easy. Of the women who remained in the Tournament, I was undoubtedly the least experienced with men by far. But I believed I might find a way to use even that to my advantage. I hoped so, anyway.

  I wondered what Lord Toric was doing, whether he was looking forward to the challenge, dreading it, or just wanted to be done with it. I couldn’t help feeling jealousy and even a touch of anger each time I remembered he’d spent the previous night with one of the harem women. He’d held me in his arms and told me that being with me made him feel things he’d never known before. A childish part of me wanted to curl up and cry big self-pitying tears at his betrayal. But I knew it wasn’t truly a betrayal, not like Court’s affair with Farrah. My situation with the alien Lord was more . . . complicated.

  Lord Toric had told me a bit about his past, of how the years of physical and sexual torture when he was a boy had conditioned him to need certain things from women. Things he wished he didn’t want.

  I picked at the food that arrived on a cart for dinner. The pitcher of bergamine-infused water was a poignant reminder of home, but I forced my focus to the present and the challenge ahead of me. I was glad, actually, that Mother and Lana would never know what I was about to do. All of Calisto would know, though. Akantha had made sure of that.

  I stood and paced through the rooms of my quarters until there was a knock at my door.

  I opened it and, to my surprise, found Clarisse standing there with my Calistan stylist. My guide offered me an almost-smile and held up a hanger with a slinky-looking deep purple frock on it.

  “I helped the dressmaker pick the fabric,” she said. She stepped forward and stretched a bit of the fabric across my collarbone. “I thought the color was sexy, and as I suspected, it goes well with your skin tone.”

  I stared at her speechlessly for a second. “I wasn’t expecting you, but . . . I’m glad you’re here.”

  It was the truth. I’d been prepared to ready myself alone without the support of a guide, but Clarisse’s presence gave me an unexpected boost of courage.

  She glanced at the stylist and then back at me. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

  They had me change into a bathrobe and then sit at the vanity in my bathroom. The stylist worked on my hair and makeup while Clarisse stood by with her arms crossed, watching everything with great scrutiny and firing off little pieces of advice.

  “Remember to move slowly,” she said. “If you’re nervous, you’ll be tempted to rush, but slow, fluid movements are sensual and build tension. Eye contact is extremely important, and it’s a bigger turn-on than you might imagine. It conveys confidence, so remember that when you get the urge to look away.”

  I took a deep breath, nodding.

  “And don’t forget that you’re in control. You truly are.” She caught my eye in the mirror. “Of all the challenges you’ve faced, this one gives you the most power over the outcome. There aren’t any tricks or trapdoors, and you don’t have to worry about the other Obligates. It’s just you and him. Make the most of it.”

  I could see the flicker of a question in her eyes, and I knew what she was wondering.

  “I have a plan, but I’m not going to . . . you know,” I said, flicking a glance at the stylist. She appeared to be absorbed in her work, but I still couldn’t bring myself to make an intimate confession in front of her.

  Clarisse gave a fi
rm nod of approval. “Good decision. Considering your lack of experience, making him crazy with lust instead will probably be more effective. Play it up. An innocent holds a different appeal for men than an experienced woman, and you can use that. Besides, there are plenty of other things you can do with a man.”

  My cheeks warmed, but I gave my guide a grateful smile. I never imagined Clarisse might prove so useful, and even . . . kind?

  The stylist had left my hair down, creating loose, shining waves around my shoulders. The waves were a bit disheveled in contrast to the smooth curls or ringlets I’d worn for the few parties I’d attended in the palace. Bedroom hair. I nearly giggled like a child.

  She’d lined my eyes heavily with smoky gray shadow and filled in my brows just a bit, emphasizing their arches. Peachy-pink gloss on my lips brought out the natural blush of my cheeks.

  She and Clarisse left the dressing room while I stripped down to nothing. For underclothes, there was only a silky slip of a panty made of fabric a couple of shades paler than the dress. I put them on, and when I slipped into the slinky dress Clarisse had brought, I discovered why any other undergarments were unnecessary. The gown had built-in shaped padding that hugged my breasts. The entire dress seemed to embrace my body from my chest to my ankles, and the deep V neckline was unlike anything I’d ever worn. I looked in the mirror. Silver stitching and tiny silver crystal details seemed strategically placed to emphasize my curves. I stepped into the silver kitten heels, grateful the heel height was only about an inch.

  I scrutinized myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, and then placing a hand on my hip and settling my weight onto one foot. The shift of weight pulled the fabric of the dress slightly to one side, the long side slit revealing a glimpse of one leg clear to a point high on my outer thigh.

  My heart seemed to heat up and fuel the tempo of my pulse. What would Lord Toric think when he saw me?

  There was a low whistle near the doorway. Clarisse was standing there with the stylist. I turned and gave them a soft-lidded, secretive smile, and my guide gave an appreciative little laugh and nodded her approval.

  The stylist arranged my hair, gave it one last mist of holding spray, and then left.

  I cast an earnest look at my guide. “Clarisse, I’m not sure why you decided to help me, but I’m grateful that you did.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “What can I say, I’m competitive. If you win this thing, it makes me look good.”

  “Well . . . thank you.” My voice was heavy with sudden emotion, and I blinked rapidly as unexpected tears sprang to my eyes.

  “Now, how are you feeling?” she asked, businesslike and obviously uncomfortable with my emotional display.

  “Extremely sexy,” I said, taking a deep breath. “And not quite myself.”

  “That’s good. You’re going to show him a new side of yourself, and believe me, he’s going to like it a lot.”

  Again, I had the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. But instead, I pulled my shoulders back and stood tall.

  She quickly explained what to expect. Lord Toric would be standing in his bedchamber, and he would come forward to greet me. I was to take his arm and walk with him back to the center of the room and pose together for a moment. After that, whatever happened was up to us.

  I licked my dry lips. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  She walked with me to the door that led from my apartment to a short hallway that ended at another door, one of the interior entrances to Lord Toric’s chambers.

  Tullock was waiting in the hallway. When he saw me, he stopped short, his eyes popping wide. He quickly composed himself and escorted me to Lord Toric’s door.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see that Clarisse hung back near my apartment, her hands folded in front of her. I gave her a little wave, and then Calvin opened the door from inside Lord Toric’s chambers. Tullock stayed behind, and Calvin took me through a corridor, across Lord Toric's breakfast room, and around a corner to the entrance of his bedchamber.

  I took a deep slow breath as Calvin touched his earpiece and said a couple of muttered words. My heart raced with nervous anticipation, and the palms of my hands dampened with cold sweat.

  The door swung inward, and the warm fragrance of scented candles hit my nose. I’d hoped the bedchamber would be low-lit for ambiance, but instead the lights were bright. I swallowed hard, remembering that what happened in the bedchamber was being filmed.

  I stepped through the doorway, trying not to look around for cameras. Lord Toric stood in the center of the room, his feet planted wide and his hands clasped behind his back.

  When he saw me, I saw his chest rise as he pulled in a breath. Surprise registered only in the barest widening of his eyes.

  I inclined my head and curtsied, all too aware of how the fabric of my dress shifted to show my leg. “My Lord.”

  As Clarisse had described, he came to me and offered his arm. As we walked back to where he’d been standing, I was aware of the sound of his breathing. He wasn’t breathless, but his chest rose and fell more rapidly than our short walk warranted.

  We faced the door, and then he turned us slowly around to face the bed.

  Then he gestured toward one side of the room. A small round table and two chairs had been set up there, with a bottle of wine and two crystal goblets. “A glass of wine?”

  I hadn’t expected that we’d have an opportunity to sit down together, but realized that it would help draw out the evening. I gave him my most gracious smile. “That sounds lovely, my Lord.” Plus, a bit of wine would help shore up my courage.

  He bent his head over me, and I looked up to see his blue-green eyes only inches from mine. “They’ll get a shot of us sitting at the table together, but then our conversation will be private,” he whispered. “Then as soon as one of us rises from the table, they’ll begin filming again.”

  I gave a slight nod, wondering how he’d managed to negotiate any privacy during this challenge. I couldn’t imagine it had been Akantha’s design.

  He pulled out the higher of the two chairs for me. It had a step at the bottom and a rung for me to rest my feet on. If not for the height compensation of the chair, I would have looked like a child compared to his much taller frame. The special chair put us at eye level at the table.

  He reached for the bottle of wine and filled my goblet and then his, but his eyes were on me, and he seemed to be absorbing every detail of my appearance. He held up his goblet, indicating that I should pick up mine, too, and he clinked his against mine.

  Then he visibly relaxed, leaning forward to rest one forearm on the table. “That was the signal. Now we have a bit of privacy until we decide to move away from the table.”

  My eyes flicked over him. “What about the monitoring of your physiological responses?”

  He pursed his lips and gave me a wry look. “The monitors reading my sensors will not be switched off at any point. But try not to think of it. The monitors are my problem, not yours.”

  He set down his goblet and went very still, his eyes locked on mine. The silence seemed to swell between us.

  “How are you, Maya?” he finally said.

  I glanced down at the table, breaking eye contact under the weight of his gaze. “I’m well, thank you. How are you, my Lord?”

  I knew I should be leaning toward him, drawing him in and giving him my most seductive looks, but the memories of our times together and the feelings I’d had for him came rushing back. I couldn’t bring myself to put on an act.

  “Fine,” he said, his tone distant. After a moment, he leaned back and started to run his hand through his short hair. But his fingers bumped his crown, and he dropped his hand. “Actually, I’m not fine. I’ve missed you. I’ve worried about you.”

  I stiffened, recalling the way he’d blown up at me the last time we’d met. I shifted uncomfortably. I needed to change the course of the conversation. I wasn’t going to win the challenge if we just sat across from each other making awkward remarks.
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  I drew in a breath through my nose and let my shoulders drop when I released the air. “Well, tonight is not about worries. Tonight is about you and me, and I think we should make the most of it.”

  I gave him the most inviting smile I could muster, and it seemed to have the right effect. Tension seemed to drain from his face and shoulders. He crossed one leg over the other and regarded me from under half-lowered lids.

  “I suppose you’re right.” He gave me a small half-smile, and his eyes warmed.

  I turned slightly to the side and crossed my legs, too. The slit of my dress fell open, revealing so much leg I had to fight the urge to pull the skirt over to cover my bare skin. Instead, I reached for my goblet and took a slow sip, keeping my eyes locked on Lord Toric’s over the rim of my glass.

  His eyes left mine to travel down my bare arm, unhurried as if savoring every inch of my skin, and continued to the plunging neckline and bodice of my dress and down my bare leg. A shiver of pleasure seemed to follow the path of his gaze, as if he were physically touching me with a feather-light stroke.

  For the first time, it occurred to me that Lord Toric could affect the outcome of this challenge. He couldn’t completely control his physiological responses of course—some of those reactions were at least partially involuntary—but he could control to what extent he interacted with his companion.

  He had the power to accept or refuse a woman’s advances. To allow passion to build, or to cut it short.

  The realization encouraged me, for in spite of our falling out I still believed he wanted me to win the Tournament. It was my job to make it easy for him to help me win the seduction challenge.

  I held my goblet in one hand and tilted my head. A wavy lock of hair shifted across my chest, and I felt it settle into the exposed dip between my breasts. Lord Toric saw it too, and his throat contracted as he swallowed.

  “So . . . how are your physiological responses doing at this moment, Lord Toric?” I gave him a slow, wicked smile.

  A faint flush colored his cheeks, but I knew it wasn’t due to self-consciousness. Lord Toric was too powerful a man, and too experienced with women, to get flustered by a little glimpse of cleavage.