Chapter 1 to 4
These are the prologue and first 4 chapters of Ultima Skylar
CHAPTER 1
This Can’t Be Happening
“Your Royal Highness, before we start, I need to make you aware of some rules. The first one is, the mask stays on until you shout in passion,” said Exotic Ultima. Under her signature mask, her almond shape, blue eyes twinkled; her mouth turned up slightly at the corners in a familiar smirk so characteristic of the woman. She looked upon Prince Marco as she would any other man or woman she had serviced through the years, with sarcasm.
“You do know I’m Prince Marco? I cannot believe you are giving me, the Crown Regent of Tsestelago, rules. A fine gift Abernathy gives me for my thirty-fifth birthday,” said the swaying man, holding a glass of liquor, half-full, in one hand and the other hanging on to a post of the four-posted bed, trying not to fall. The large room held many antique pieces of furniture, and several tapestries depicting ancient wars hung on the walls.
“A million apologies, my Prince,” said Ultima, gently moving her hair away from her face. “I’m considered the best Exotic in the entire kingdom. I’ve been a full Exotic for many years, and in all that time, the Trades Office requires me to say this. Maybe when you are King, things will change.” Ultima smiled at the Prince Regent.
“Continue, Exotic, what are your rules?” said Marco, drinking even more liquor.
“The next rule is simple—please don’t hit my face. My complexion must stay the same as when I arrived.” Ultima took off her coat, laid it over a chair. That night she dressed in a black bustier, and a form-fitting skirt with a slit opened to her hip. She pulled a few laces from her bustier, revealing her cleavage. Prince Marco smiled, just like all others before him when they liked what they saw. Ultima, a renowned Exotic, knew how to entice her clients.
“So, I’m beginning to see why everyone I know calls you the most beautiful and exquisitely trained Exotic in the entire Kingdom of Tsestelago,” said Marco.
“Oh, thank you, my Prince! I’m surprised you haven’t met me sooner.”
“I’m the Prince Regent and a happily married man for many years. I don’t have time to go looking for Exotics.”
“Oh, I know tonight is a special occasion,” said Ultima.
“Cheeky woman, you are only here because my best friend, the Duke of Abernathy, wanted to give me a special gift, so he got me you! I’ve been a little stressed with my duties. So, my friend wanted me to relax and enjoy my birthday.”
“I’m honored to celebrate your birthday. It should be a national holiday, my Prince. That way all your loyal subjects could … celebrate with you,” said Ultima, raising her sexy arms in the air and swaying her hips closer to Prince Marco.
“Oh, you are delicate; I’m listening,” said Prince Marco, reclining against the bedpost. Ultima inched closer, knowing what anticipation did to her clients. The cold room made the hair on her arms stand on edge, and her nipples perk up. Her golden earrings dangled, and her matching rings made a slight noise every time she moved her fingers.
“I see our Prince likes to entertain his women in cold rooms,” said Ultima, reaching him and laying her palms on his chest.
“I like what the cold air does to women.” The prince wore a red and black smock and black pants. Ultima could tell the man was getting aroused.
“Next rule, if you turn your face from me, or I feel you don’t like my touch, we are done and I will leave.” Ultima took the prince’s hand and walked with him to a chair close to an open window. The prince tried to touch her soft skin, but Ultima held his hands.
“I’ve never seen a woman of your color. You are so pale,” said the Prince, pulling his hand from Ultima’s hold and touching Ultima’s arms with his fingertips.
“I take very little sun,” said Ultima.
“You take very little sun. Why?” asked the Prince.
“I’m an Exotic slave. My work is mostly at night. I rarely entertain anyone during the day,” said Ultima.
“Something so beautiful should never be caged.” He went to hold her neck.
“Not yet, I’m not done with the rules.” She kissed him and nuzzled him into the chair and stood away. She removed her skirt and stood in front of the prince, still in her tight, sexy inner clothing. The gasless lanterns stood on the bedside tables, either side of the bed. The golden brothel insignia adorning her arms glimmered in the light as she moved.
“The fourth rule is simple. Please, my Prince, don’t hold or pull my collar. I enjoy having air in my lungs, and I must leave as I arrived here tonight. This—” as she pointed to her inner leg, “is my pain threshold.” So saying, she moved her leg, the better to display her tattoo by the side of her groin, showing the level of pain she could endure.
She moved her leg back down, walked to the prince’s side, and took off her bustier, letting it drop to the floor. Her breasts, now fully revealed, showed her Exotic mark on her left breast, which further defined the prostitute courtesan-tattoo on her right arm. She approached Prince Marco, took a chair, and sat in front of him, placing one of her legs over Prince Marco’s leg. The prince kissed her, and Ultima took his hands and placed them over her breasts.
sss
As the pair kissed, starting a night of lustful desires, a dark figure dressed in a black leather suit entered stealthily via the open window. He stood in the shadows a second or two and looked at the beauty in the arms of the Regent of the Kingdom, then scurried over to the pair, grabbed the prince’s dark-blond hair, pulled, and slit his throat from ear to ear. And that was the last kiss Prince Marco ever gave. His blue eyes opened wide, looked up, and saw the eyes of the one who killed him. Did he know the man with the knife? Only he knew, and he wasn’t talking. If he knew the name of his murderer, he took the identity to his grave.
sss
Ultima’s eyes sprang open and she started to scream, but her scream was muffled by a spray of blood. As the neck of Prince Marco was slit open, a fountain erupted, and the life-giving liquid drenched the Exotic woman of the night. Bathed with the blood of a royal man, she was baptized and anointed. Face stunned, mouth full of blood, eyes full of fear—she screamed.
“HELP, FIRE!” A slap of panic showed on the Exotic’s face. The hooded man grabbed her neck with both his hands, to silence her. She placed her hands under his grip and opened her hands wide to release his hold. Then, with open palm, punched him hard on his nose. He staggered back and touched his face with the back of his wrist.
“Bitch, you’ll be dead in minutes. Sad, I must kill such a beautiful woman,” said the man. His black leather made him seem like a panther ready to strike. She pushed the chair back, stood up, and tried to run. But despite a little stumble, he lurched forward and grabbed her, and pushed her down to the floor. He kicked her leg in anger, breaking it. She spat out some blood that had splattered in her mouth, and screamed in pain. He went to kick her in the stomach, but missed, giving Ultima the opening to kick up into his groin with her uninjured leg.
He stumbled back.
“AAAAHHHHH, you bitch,” shouted the assassin, grabbing his groin and doubling over in pain, giving her a moment to bellow as best she could with her naturally soprano voice.
“FIRE, FIRE! PLEASE, HELP US. THE PRINCE IS DEAD! FIRE. FIRE. HELP, COME HELP!” Xawata had trained her to scream fire if she ever found herself in a situation where the men were hurting her or using her in ways outside her trade license. Blood covered her face and chest, her hair matted with the red royal blood, but her mask was still in place. With her remaining uninjured leg, she kicked out again and connected with his knee, making him stumble, and then she squiggled and rolled behind a small table.
“Come out here,” said the assassin, walking toward the Exotic.
“NO, FIRE, HELP!” shouted Ultima.
“You’re going to die!” said the assassin.
The guards arrived, flinging open the door; the assassin looked once at the guards, and ran to the window leaving bloody footsteps in his wake. He turned to look back at the Exotic beauty and the guards.
“I’ll get you,” said the assassin in a ragged voice, pointing at Ultima, and jumped out the window, down into the river that ran below.
The man had worn a black face mask, and she had only been able to see the color of his eyes, brown. But she saw his trade-tattoo. The man had been a warrior. And she’d felt it: he had magic. He had shown no emotion when he jumped out the window. Just as those thoughts ran riot through her mind, Ultima collapsed on the floor. The traumatic events having sapped all her energy.
sss
In an instant, guards stormed the room. Ultima, naked from the waist up, very little covering her lady parts, lay on the rug, covered in royal blood, and heaved. Ultima survived, but ended up with a broken leg, and the excruciating pain that came with it. Tears followed. In the past, she had clients die on her while in bed, in the middle of a passionate sex moment. She had clients who had died after a night of quiet, lulling cuddling in their old age, but this was a cold-blooded slaying of a man.
They had seen the assassin jump out the window, but regardless, the guards came at her, pulling her from the floor, and manhandling her.
“You must have helped the killer assassinate our Prince,” said one guard. Even in her dazed state, this seemed a little far-fetched to Ultima. She was a little woman of barely five feet nothing, and the prince was strong—five-foot-ten, a powerful man in the prime of his life, celebrating his thirty-fifth birthday. However, the guard who removed Ultima’s mask, saw the opportunity to touch and grope the famous Exotic Ultima Skylar—at least until the Commander of the Guards, Lord Baxter, arrived. Ultima’s owner Xawata Faan ran into the chamber next and saw his most precious, expensive Exotic broken in the hands of a guard.
“What happened here?” asked Lord Baxter, a barely dressed, tall, black man. It was late at night, and by his smell and appearance, he too was enjoying one of Xawata’s courtesans.
“The Prince is dead; we saw the assassin jump out the window. This Exotic is still alive. She must have helped the murderer,” said one guard.
“Oh my, Ultima, my sweet darling, what happened? Where is your mask?” asked Xawata. He picked up Ultima’s cloak, wrapped her in it and took her in his arms, not letting any more guards touch her. Upon realizing her leg was broken, he pulled up a chair and gently sat her down.
“A man came out of nowhere and slit his throat.” Ultima’s voice barely audible. “Master, the man tried to kill me as well. He broke my leg. The guard took my mask off,” said Ultima in a whisper. Her face turned pale, and her hurt expression made her look younger. She turned away and vomited what little she had left in her stomach.
“Lord Baxter, look at our Prince; this is horrible. There is too much blood here. I’m going to be sick, and my poor, broken Exotic needs care. She won’t be able to work like this. What will my clients say? I must take my Exotic and get her a healer,” said Xawata, pacing and waving his hands about, every which way. The old man shuffled to the left, then back to the right, shaking his head, and covering his eyes every time he walked toward where the prince’s body lay.
“Xawata, I think you are more concerned about what this is going to do to your Exotic and the reputation of your business than the well-being of the nation,” said Baxter.
“I’m just a merchant, not a soldier.” Xawata took out a handkerchief and covered his mouth.
“Exotic Ultima, did you recognize the man that killed Prince Marco?” asked Commander Baxter.
“No, I only noticed what happened once the prince was already dead. We were kissing, and I had my eyes closed. Afterward, there was blood everywhere,” said Ultima.
I can’t tell them about the magic the man had. They will find out about my magic. How is this possible? He killed him in cold blood and so fast. Blood, so much blood … I must hide. He may come back. My leg … Ultima’s thoughts rambled, repeating some scenes in her head over and over again, thinking of new ones.
“When you opened your eyes, did you see something, anything?”
“I can’t remember much. I fought him,” said Ultima, with her eyes closed.
“When you fought him, perhaps you saw his face then?” suggested the Commander.
“It happened so fast. The man’s head was covered with a hood and his face with a cloth; when he first grabbed the prince, I opened my eyes in surprise and got a face full of blood, including in my eyes, but—when I fought him—his sleeve pulled up. I saw a little of his arm. He was a white man with brown eyes, and I think he had a warrior’s tattoo with an added animal-related skill. That is all I remember, truly.” Ultima’s injured leg made her head swim and she almost lost consciousness several times.
“I feel faint,” said Ultima, and she almost fell off her chair. But Xawata ran back to her and held her in place.
Xawata’s servants hovered in the background, as usual when he let his Exotics service outside the brothel. And just as Xawata tried to prop her up, Orrun, one of Xawata’s servants entered and took Ultima in his arms as if she was his baby. And another man entered the room at a run, his gray hair tossed in every direction, smelling like sex and whiskey. He, too, had been enjoying one of Xawata’s courtesans, maybe. He pushed the guards out of his way and shouted.
“For all the gods in Yavos, Baxter, look at the Regent! This isn’t possible! Has anyone told the King?” Archimage Saigai demanded, as he entered the room. He carried on speaking to no one in particular but to the room in general, “No, no, this isn’t possible. Today was his birthday. Princess Harriet will die when she finds out. Prince Marco—so much blood, I’m going to be sick!” He covered his mouth and mumbled from behind his hand, “This will kill his mother. And his wife is so young …”
“Saigai, we just got here. She was the Exotic in the room with him, and she witnessed the murder,” said Commander Baxter.
“What? Did you interrogate her?” asked Saigai, standing with his hands on his hips.
“Yes, I asked all the questions, but one thing at a time. I’ll send word to the King in a minute,” said Baxter.
“Who did this? You must find who did this?” Saigai looked at Ultima in Orrun’s arms.
“Did she see his face? She must have helped the assassin. You’re not going to let her go?” said Saigai, raising his thin arms and his voice.
“She is a well-known Exotic, and the assassin tried to kill her as well,” said Commander Baxter, exasperated.
“My Lords, I must take my Exotic and provide her with proper care. She has great value for me. If you need to ask more questions, you know the location of my establishment. I’ll take all my other girls, but I’ll give you both an hour of services on another day. However, you must come to my establishment. You understand, I’m sure—I must protect my girls,” said Xawata.
Ultima heard Archimage Saigai continue to argue with Baxter over letting her go, as she was carried away. Ultima feared Xawata’s reaction once they reached the brothel, but this wasn’t her fault. She did her job, and all else was out of her control. As they left the castle, she lost consciousness once more, cradled in the arms of Orrun, Xawata’s personal slave.
sss
The stench of rotten eggs and seagrass accompanied the wet, hooded man who walked through the gathering hall of the enormous castle. Darkness blanketed every corner of the room, lit only by a few candles mounted on tall candlesticks that stood on the polished floor, giving a flickering light. His black leather stuck to his slim body, and his boots left evidence of his every step. The glacial silence was interrupted by the echo of his footsteps. He walked with the stride of confidence and the precision of someone used to marching with a group.
“Hello, drifter! I know the prince is dead, but tell me what happened,” said the man smoking a cigarette in the shadows. The wet man stood still in the middle of the hall.
“I carried out the hit as you paid me to do, but the woman with him wasn’t a soft target as she was supposed to be. I thought you said she was an Exotic?”
“She is an Exotic,” said the smoking man.
“This Exotic almost made me vomit my balls,” said the assassin.
“I thought you were a fighter. We paid for her elimination,” grumbled the man from the shadows.
“Yes, I know, but that Exotic had warrior skills. She knew how to fight. I got him, but before I could finish her, the guards entered. She lives,” said the wet man.
“Did you blow your cover? Did she see your face?” Irritated, the man in the shadows threw his cigarette down in the middle of the hall.
“No, I kept my face covered the entire time,” said the wet man, taking his gloves off.
“I found out she saw your trade-tattoo. You cut that loose end and do it soon. I already paid you for the job,” said the smoking man.
“I know, but you lied. That Exotic was skilled.” The wet man dropped his gloves on the floor and removed the top of his leather armor.
“And you are a professional assassin and warrior,” he said by way of reprimand. “Now, you have two new targets,” said the man in the shadows.
“Who?”
“Grand Duke of Hausman and Prince Soren are your next targets. We will give you instructions on who to target first. And don’t forget about the Exotic woman, but wait a few weeks on the woman and make it seem like an accident,” said the man in the shadows.
“I’ll get started on the next two,” said the wet man.
“You must write a full report of what happened with Prince Marco,” whispered the man in the shadows.
“Stop. Before you go, you must pay for these assignments before I start. And I want to know who—” As the wet man was talking, he had been walking to where the man in the shadows was standing. But once he got to the place where the shadow man was hiding, he found no one. Only the stubs of several cigarettes remained.
CHAPTER 2
Clients, Visitors, and Demons
A servant escorted Healer Goren to Ultima’s room, where he worked on her injuries right away.
“Oh, my Exotic, is so broken,” said Xawata when he saw Ultima’s naked body.
“I’ll do the best I can, but she will be in pain for a few days, maybe weeks.” As Healer Goren administered his magic to Ultima’s leg, Ultima realized the man was caressing her leg and admiring the beauty he was healing.
“I’ll leave some medicine for her to take at night to help her sleep,” said Healer Goren.
“My steward will pay you in my office. Thank you, Healer Goren,” said Xawata. He turned to his servant, “Orrun, escort the healer to my office.”
Once the healer finished setting Ultima’s leg and providing the healing she required, the man placed his things in his bag and left the room. Now alone, Xawata started to question his prize possession.
“Ultima, who bruised your body? Look at your stomach and your leg. Who bruised you, the prince or the assassin?” Xawata was standing by her fireplace.
“It was the assassin. The prince had barely touched me.”
“Damn! I can’t charge the Duke of Abernathy more for your injuries. You know I can’t give you many days of rest. We must make-up what I lost tonight.” He turned to Akina and his voice suddenly took on a childish note, “And you … you will make sure your momma does all she needs to do to get healthy fast. You hear me, young lady?” said Xawata. He turned back to Ultima, voice changing again to something more hateful, “And you, do what you can to help yourself heal faster. Use your magic but as always keep it hidden.”
The old man, Xawata, left the room, and Akina stayed behind. Ultima felt sorry for her daughter and love of her heart; little Akina. Her obnoxious owner had ordered her to train the child, from the tender age of three, to be an Exotic. The girl was growing up to be appealing to the eye with her slight body, clear complexion, black hair, and her deep-green eyes.
However, little Akina and Ultima shared a secret. Ultima was an unregistered healer mage and Akina an unregistered arcane mage, a summoner, and illusionist. Mother and daughter kept each other’s secret.
“Momma, I hate Xawata. That man treats you poorly,” said Akina.
“Love, please never say that outside this room or to anyone else,” said Ultima, trying to stretch her back.
“You still need more healing than the meager care that man gave you. I hate it. I’m not a healer, mage,” said Akina.
“We all have our gifts, Akina. I wish I were an illusionist,” said Ultima, caressing the girl’s face.
“I don’t know how to use my magic, Momma,” said Akina.
“Not yet, but you will soon. I’ll get you a teacher to give you lessons behind Xawata’s back. There has to be a mage that would take me as payment for lessons for you and keep it a secret,” said Ultima.
“Momma, I wish we could leave this place. Xawata is a mean master,” said Akina.
“I know, love, but you must never say these words to anyone in this house. We are slaves, and this is where we live. Little by little, I’ve been selling all I get as gratuities and saving my coin. We just need to wait nine more years for me to become a Prime Exotic. Then I can make my own coin. Once I do, I’ll have enough coin to buy you from Xawata, but for now you need to go and practice your dance,” said Ultima, resting her head on her pillow.
“You look tired,” said Akina.
“I want to sleep for eternity. Would it be too much to ask for one free night away from this place? I’m so tired of parties, balls, hunts, and gatherings. I don’t know how much longer my body can take this level of work,” said Ultima from her bed.
Akina had left the potion the healer gave her on top of the dresser. Ultima used her magic to make it levitate and come to her hand. The potion was supposed to help her go to sleep.
“I wish I could move objects at will,” said Akina.
“You know I can only move small objects,” said Ultima.
“It doesn’t matter; it’s a nice magic to have,” said Akina, standing up and getting a glass of water for her mother.
sss
There was considerable unrest in the kingdom. The assassination of the kingdom’s Regent, Prince Marco, had been a shock for the King’s subjects. Prince Soren, the King’s second son, fought with the kingdom’s army on the battlefront. The late-Prince Regent’s oldest son, was an eleven-year-old boy, Prince Leer. He also had one young daughter named Princess Joy-Anna, twin to Leer, but they were both born powerful elemental mages.
King Trevino had lost the firmness of his muscles and the pep from his walk. His health had deteriorated in the last years, and he had passed most of the kingdom’s running to his son, Marco.
“Your Royal Highness, we sent word to Prince Soren to return to the capital immediately,” said Archimage Saigai, while smoking his cigarette.
“I don’t want to leave my grandson, Prince Leer, as King of the Tsestelago Kingdom. He and his twin sister Joy-Anna are mages and just children of eleven years. They are not suitable to rule,” said King Trevino to his war council and commanders. His brown eyes settled on his commanders, but whether they saw any detail was unknown. There was an opaqueness that suggested otherwise. He had lacked energy for months, even though he was only in his early sixties.
“Abernathy, I know you said it was a bad idea to let Prince Soren command the fighting in our war with the Kingdom of Boleña. Now you have got your way. I can’t do anything but call him back,” said the King.
“The last we heard of Prince Soren’s men was a week ago. Our sources said that the fighting has mostly been waged in the vicinity of the Pikes Mountains, in the northeast,” said the Duke of Abernathy.
“Those mountains have been ours for over two hundred years; why these Boleños keep fighting for our land is a mystery,” said Archimage Saigai.
“There have been problems communicating with the troops,” said the Duke of Abernathy.
“Prince Soren is only nine minutes younger than Prince Marco, but he was not trained to rule a nation. Although they are twins, we trained Soren to command an army. My King, your son will need a lot of training,” said the Duke of Horrel.
“Your son is a man of war, a powerful warrior, a leader of soldiers, but he isn’t married and thus has no heirs, and he’s not prepared to rule a kingdom. Maybe we should take Prince Leer and start training him to rule,” said the Division Commander, General Cauldron.
“No, Leer is a mage. Mages can’t be kings. Soren must come back to the capital now. We will make him my Regent whether he likes it or not. He’s a royal prince in the line of succession; I will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of my son,” said the King.
“I sent the message the moment you made the request last night, my King,” said Commander Baxter.
“For the last three hundred years, there has always been an Otarana King in Tsestelago. I will not allow one of these scheming nobles from any other kingdom to come and take our throne. I want the man who assassinated Marco captured alive; dead, only if there’s no other option,” said King Trevino.
“Your Majesty, the assassin left the Exotic alive, but she had very little information,” said Archimage Saigai with his arms crossed.
“I don’t care who she is. Baxter must make her talk. She has to know something,” said the King.
“There is talk that the assassin could be part of a guild of mercenaries and pirates, based on the trade-tattoo the Exotic described,” said Baxter.
“I suggest you call the dukes and maybe have them, and a few of your commanders take a more active role in dealing with the people. They must have a stronger hold on the people. Fear always makes peasants talk,” said Archimage Saigai.
“This is my kingdom, and we are going to follow my laws. In the meantime, you have the protection of Prince Leer and Princess Joy-Anna to ensure, until Prince Soren arrives from the northern lands. If they die, you die! Do you hear me?” said the King.
“Yes, my King,” said Saigai, snuffing his cigarette in a near ashtray.
King Trevino stood up and stared down at Commander Baxter. “If Prince Soren never makes it back to Tsestelago and anything prevents Prince Leer or Princess Joy-Anna getting out of the nursery, I will make sure all the soldiers guarding them wish for death. I will have them all thrown in a pit of fire. And that is an order, Baxter,” said the King, and he left his war room looking for his wife, Queen Elenore.
sss
Three days passed, and Ultima was still in pain despite the trickle of healing she kept self-administering to reduce the bruises on her stomach and broken leg. Healer Goren came to visit her one more time, to give her a second session of healing magic. But it was her mind that needed the most soothing and she couldn’t rest. Each night she had nightmares of a man entering her room and attacking her. An older servant had placed a sofa in her bedroom for Orrun to sleep upon in her private room some nights, while Akina slept with Ultima in her bed. At least this enabled her to fall asleep.
Her leg was mending, but Xawata wouldn’t give her much time to rest. Xawata said he would only give Ultima a week of free time to recuperate from her broken leg. After that time, he said she would have to work. She was nervous to return to work, as she expected to be assaulted at any moment. She feared that one of her clients would turn and slit her throat. She had to keep receiving clients, even with an injured leg. However, Healer Goren told Xawata she couldn’t perform any services that required her to stand for another three weeks, and she couldn’t dance for another three months.
Nevertheless, a day later, early in the morning, a young servant entered Ultima’s room quietly.
“M’lady Ultima, please wake. Wake up. I’m sorry to interrupt your rest,” said the young woman.
“What is it?” asked Ultima in a sleepy voice, lifting her head from her pillow.
“Why are you waking us so early?” said little Akina, in her childlike voice.
“I’m sorry. Commander Baxter—the one that guards the King—he’s here to talk to m’lady Ultima,” said the servant.
“And this couldn’t wait until the brothel was open for business tonight? Wretched man!” Ultima dropped her head back on her pillow.
“He is here now with a warrant,” said the servant, insistently.
“Fine, go down and tell Xawata and the commander I’ll be down in thirty minutes.” She nudged her daughter, “Akina, get up and get ready for your classes.”
That morning, her mending leg had her in much discomfort. Ultima asked Orrun to carry her to the receiving parlor. Xawata insisted she dress in expensive lace dresses he provided, but this early in the morning, she wore just a night shift and a robe. Besides, Commander Baxter had already seen her almost naked.
When she entered the room, Xawata was already in the parlor in his night robe, looking like a Palermo rooster with his white hair all up on end. Ultima was seated on a chair, while Xawata stood by her, caressing her neck, but holding a golden leash attached to her golden collar.
“Good morning, Commander Baxter. It’s been four days since the prince’s murder. What is so important that it couldn’t wait for the business hours of the brothel?” asked Xawata.
“Commander, please forgive us, but we keep night hours,” she spoke with a gentle and lovely voice. Her delicate manner gave no emotion other than concern for her master.
“Well, the King requested a report, and this morning was the only time I had available. I need to report to the King within the next day,” said the Commander, straightening his uniform. The man stood a foot taller than Xawata.
“Fine, ask your questions. We must return to our sleep. My beauty, Ultima, needs her rest.” Xawata caressed Ultima’s face, but he pulled hard on her leash, forcing her to sit up tall and back straight.
“Exotic Ultima, did you remember any other markings on the man? Did he talk or say anything?” The commander had a small notebook.
“The man was covered from head to toe in black leather. I only saw a little of his arm and his trade-tattoo. He talked. He said to me, ‘Bitch, you will be dead in minutes.’ I didn’t recognize the voice. He isn’t anyone that I had ever serviced. Do you have any other questions? I’m exceedingly tired,” said Ultima, her hands trembling under a blanket she had brought with her.
“Thank you, Exotic Ultima, that will be all for now,” said the Commander. He thanked Xawata and departed.
“Orrun, take Ultima to her room; she needs plenty of rest. Later, make sure she has a relaxing bath,” said Xawata, and he left the parlor tossing Ultima’s leash to Orrun.
Ultima just wanted to sleep for a month, but she had to work that night, and like Orrun, she was just a slave.
CHAPTER 3
The Broken Exotic
She sang on the night of the lovers
An Angel from the land of Yavos.
One look and I melted, you said “Hello”
I sighed, a laugh that remained in my mind
She came on the night of the lovers.
Your perfume consumed me,
My mind melted fully.
A pair of eyes went to your neck and your breast
Two hills closed together, I wanted to caress
I wanted to touch that grass over the hills
She came to me on the night of the lovers.
In my dreams,
She came to me.
Soft hands touched
And they set me free
I felt alive, in bliss, and I melted.
One look, one touch, one kiss, neck scented.
I was lost to her, on the night of the lovers …
Ultima was singing a song from the old times. They were some of Ultima’s favorite to sing. A man, her client, insisted on undressing her while she sang and played the lute, her heart wrapped up in the song. She was mostly undressed and the man now sat next to her on the sofa, his legs crossed and eyes closed, while he caressed her shapely leg, when she thought she saw a shadow move on the far side of the room near the curtain. Was it a man or a trick of the light in the night? It’s most likely a shadow thrown by the flickering lamp, she thought, and she continued with her song, but she kept looking at the shadow that was taking the form of a man’s silhouette, inching away from the window toward the table where he stood for a moment and waited. When she finished her song, her client stood up, and in silence took the lute from her hands and fully undressed her, unaware of the shadow in the corner that appeared to be watching them.
Ultima needed to speak out. She wanted to give a warning, but she couldn’t say a word. Her voice had gone, body frozen, and her fear took over her mind. Her client kissed her and was beginning to mount her naked body, when the silhouette drew out a bow and arrow, aimed and fired in one motion, and hit the man. The arrow went through him and bit deep into her body as well. A pain like no other hit her in the chest.
“AAAHHH!” She woke up with a start and screamed. She had not seen the face of the man in her dream, only that it was a man.
Ultima sat up in her bed; her bed sheets were wet with sweat and her body was trembling. She stood up and on shaking legs, using a crutch the servant, Orrun, had made for her, she hobbled over to her bathroom and washed her face. Minutes later, she returned to her room; still, she added some wood to her fireplace with trembling hands. A dim light was beginning to enter through the windows, making her room fill with light ever so slowly, which gave Ultima peace. She had slept for only two hours. Xawata had scheduled three clients for her the previous night, and they robbed her of every ounce of energy. The bastard of a man. Xawata’s greed, compared only to his gluttony. Limping a little with her crutch, Ultima returned to her bed after she closed the curtains completely. She needed to return to sleep.
Xawata had made her work four days the last week and take at least three clients, and that evening she had to sing for two men. Her wretched master owned over thirty slaves, and he worked them until they died, still in his possession. Even his Exotics had to work more than an average Exotic. Ultima reached her bed and laid back, adjusting her collar; the bothersome cold metal got in the way on her pillow. She tossed and turned, but finally she fell asleep.
Later, during her evening meal, Ultima was sitting with Akina. Her nightmare was still clear in her memory, and she knew she had to tell it to someone.
“Momma, it was only a nightmare. Do you want me to ask Orrun to put you in his schedule and come and give you a massage?” asked Akina.
“Yes, thank you, Akina love, that would be lovely.” And Ultima kissed her little Akina on the top of her head.
sss
A few days later, Ultima fully woke an hour before the noon meal. She took a bath, and afterward she needed to spend some time with her daughter and student, Akina, the only young girl in the brothel being trained by Ultima to be an Exotic. Xawata had allowed Ultima to keep the babe, but had made Ultima start training her daughter since Akina was three years old.
Ultima walked slowly through the halls until she reached the dance floor, where she found her beloved daughter. Her long black hair was all a mess. It was clear she had finished a dance lesson. Akina could sing like the birds.
The girl was now eleven, and Xawata had pre-sold her virginity to a nobleman on a promise. He was waiting at least six more months for her twelfth birthday and for her courses to start. Technically it was illegal to sell a child that young. To abide by the law, Xawata should wait for Akina to turn fourteen, take her to the Trades Office, and give her both the official prostitute-tattoo and the first initial mark of an Exotic on her breast and wrist. But while Xawata did not want to break his precious doll and secretly did not want to raise Ultima’s wrath any more than necessary, the Marquis of Brindle had offered Xawata one hundred gold for Akina. So, the greedy animal, Xawata, collected the gold coins, but insisted they wait for Akina to turn twelve and have her courses for at least six months.
Ultima, however, was aware of the end timeline as she reached the dance floor where young Akina passed her morning.
“Akina, come here to me,” demanded Ultima. Her daughter was in a corner crying, while the other three girls were surrounding her. Akina’s flushed skin, red from exertion after an obviously full morning of training, made her seem younger than her eleven years. They clearly had been practicing an intricate dance Master Lucy had undoubtedly choreographed for their training.
“All of you girls, go to your rooms and get ready for your history lesson,” said Dance Master Lucy.
“Are you training Akina the rest of the day?” asked the dance teacher. Like all the other teachers in the house, the dance teacher knew what was to happen to Akina.
“Yes, Master Lucy. It is great to see you, by the way. I’ll take it from here.” Ultima walked to Akina’s side. The young mage tried to create the illusion of happiness, but Ultima knew when Akina was using her magic, trying to deceive. So, Ultima spoke to Akina with tough love, but decided not to scold her for trying the deception.
“You must stand up, and stop using your glamour magic with me this very moment, young lady,” said Ultima in a loving but stern voice. Akina looked up, cleaned her face, and stood in front of her Exotic mother.
“Yes, Momma,” said Akina. At eleven, she was just a scared young girl, and Ultima understood her. Akina, looked down at her feet, sighed and sniffled a little. Ultima could see her reddened face, and she knew Akina’s thoughts were on her impending initiation. Like all the other girls in the house, they knew who Exotic Ultima was and what she did. Akina knew her mother and master well.
“Follow me!”
Akina followed her mother to a nearby tall mahogany table with three high chairs.
“Now, you must listen. You see this golden collar I have around my neck?” Ultima held her collar, looking directly into the girl’s eyes. Akina’s almond shape, deep-green eyes, were still full of tears.
“Yes, Momma,” Akina sniffled a little.
“It is a collar, just like the one you have around your neck. Your collar may be bronze, and they made mine of gold, but they are both collars. We are both slaves. Listen to me because I will never repeat these words. What Xawata has prepared for you isn’t your fault, nor has it anything to do with your worth as a human or a woman. It has to do with his greed. Do you understand?”
Akina nodded.
“We are slaves. You and me both, and we do what our owner tells us to do. Xawata has sold your body, but he can’t touch your soul. What will happen is that a man will touch you and kiss you, and by orders of Xawata, you must let him. However, that doesn’t mean that you, Akina, are bad or that your soul will be lost in the event. Your mind is more powerful than any man alive. You will fight in your head; do you hear me?”
Akina nodded again, but Ultima could tell she was a little unsure.
“The way you fight is by telling yourself that you decide the man doesn’t own your mind. You must choose to fight. You must repeat to yourself, over and over in your head, that Xawata doesn’t own your soul. If you do that, you will be the best Exotic in the world. You will be better even than me. You are my daughter: my Akina, the student of the best Exotic in the entire Kingdom of Tsestelago. Do you understand me?” said Ultima, holding Akina’s chin. And the child nodded, this time more confidently.
“Stay calm and don’t cry. Let’s go; we must work on your Yakutan language skills.” Ultima stood up, hugged Akina, and took by the hand, and they left the room together.
They walked through the teaching halls of the brothel, looking for an empty classroom.
“Stupid vazey, go pick up those books,” said a teacher, hitting the child’s arm in the hallway, as Ultima passed by, still holding Akina by the hand. The teacher stood up and let Ultima pass, showing her respect to the Exotic, but continued hitting the child. Ultima stopped in front of the woman, while Akina lowered herself to the floor and helped the child pick up the books.
Ultima looked forward, but avoided making eye-contact with the woman, and she said: “That child is being prepared to be an Exotic. She is neither stupid, dirty, nor worthy of mistreatment. If you want respect; you must give respect first. If you value your job, I hope I won’t hear you are mistreating a child again.” Ultima turned her head, looked straight at the woman, and smiled. She took hold of Akina’s hand again and continued walking.
sss
Two weeks later, after Ultima’s secret self-ministrations of healing, she had nearly fully healed her leg. She could stand and even walk without the walking stick, but Akina begged her mother to be careful and not dance or run. If she ended up hurting herself further, Xawata would take his anger out on the servants. Ultima promised she would be cautious.
On Ultima’s day off, she took Akina shopping for new dancing shoes and some daytime dresses. Ultima always spent a little of whatever coin she had on Akina. Xawata would not give her a salary, but Ultima’s clients would leave her gratuities and gifts and Xawata let her keep those. So, she was a wealthy slave. She would never have enough to buy her freedom, but she had all the other things she ever wanted in life.
“Akina, you are growing faster than the weeds. I just bought you a pair of shoes four months ago, and you need new ones already!” said Ultima, with a smile.
“Master Lucy said that as long as I gain little weight, growing taller will not stop me from becoming a good dancer,” said Akina as they crossed the street to reach the cobbler’s store.
“She is right. Slimmer dancers have an easier time doing the routines, and they look elegant. You must listen to your dance teacher. She will show you how to be the best dancer in the kingdom. However, I’m your mother. So, you must listen to me first. I want you to eat and grow strong. We can’t have you getting sick because you’re not eating. I’ve been teaching you to be an Exotic since you were a little girl. I’m going to do everything needed until I can buy you from Xawata, but that may take some time. I didn’t find out I was a healer mage until the day Xawata was having me fixed. I have never had the opportunity to learn how to use my magic. You are going to have to work as an Exotic for some years. I want you to be free and go to the mages’ academy, but for now, that is an impossibility. I’ll figure a way out for you. I will fight for you to the end of my days, my heart,” said Ultima.
By midafternoon, they already had finished their business in the cobbler’s and seamstress’ stores. Ultima wanted to buy some books on magic, so she went to visit Audrey’s Books and Papers.
When they arrived, a distinguished young man with light-brown hair and hazel eyes was standing by the store’s entrance. When he saw Ultima and Akina walking toward the store, he said, “Your child looks just like my mother, but with black hair. She is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” said Akina.
“Excuse us, my Lord,” said Ultima, and the man opened the door to the store.
“Thank you,” said both Akina and Ultima in unison.
They entered the store. Ultima thought nothing of the man’s remarks, and she went to look for books on magic, while Akina looked through notebooks and sets of ink and pens. Ultima was determined to have her daughter learn some magic, without Xawata discovering their secret. Ultima tried to hurry; they were supposed to be back at the house for the evening meal.
As she looked through the magic section, she saw the man perusing through books in the same aisle, by the selection of magic books. She made a point to never stare at anyone when she was out of the house as it could so easily be misconstrued. Her golden collar let everyone know she was a special slave, one with status. Xawata had given her permission to purchase goods in many stores around the city, so the owners would sell to her without Xawata or a servant present.
On this occasion, she could not help staring at the man from a distance. Ultima found the man striking. His interest in books attracted her attention. She loved learned men. He was reading one book and then looking at another.
She kept looking; he turned; she looked some more. He wasn’t your typical man of books. This man had the body of a warrior. He looked unlike anyone she had ever seen in her life, and she had seen many men. She tried not to stare. He wore a hat, but it looked like he had short, light-brown hair under his hat. The man’s tailored suit was certainly out of the ordinary, and he had a hat to match. Ultima realized the man had to be a foreigner.
The man found a book in the magic section and added it to three others he already held in his arms. He walked to the front of the store, paid for his books, and left. Ultima followed him with her eyes, but she stayed hidden in the row of books. The sight of the handsome man perplexed her, until she heard a familiar voice from the opposite side of the row of the bookshelves, it was the voice of a man she would never forget.
“You are one beautiful woman,” said the man. Ultima felt as if someone had dropped snow down her spine. She would never forget that voice. Those were the same words the assassin had said to her. The killer was in the store, on the other side of the bookshelf.
Oh no, what if he sees me, what if he follows me? Where is Akina? Ultima’s thoughts ran rapidly through her brain. She didn’t have time to think; she just reacted. She rushed to the end of the aisle and tried to look around to where the voice came from. Ultima had to know the face of the man who killed the prince. She was in turmoil; she didn’t want to know, but she had to know.
Ultima tilted her hat to cover her face, and tried to look. There was one man and a woman. The woman was looking in her direction, and the man had his back to her as he talked to the young woman. She looked familiar.
Ultima tried to hide behind another bookshelf, horizontal to the aisle, but the man walked away with the woman obscuring the view. All she could see was that the man dressed as a gentleman, and he carried a cane. Ultima couldn’t recognize the man from the back. He had dark hair cut short at the back, but she couldn’t see his face. The woman was young, but too far to see who she was.
The man and woman left the store, and Ultima’s clammy hands shook. The assassin had been but a few meters from her. She stayed, looking at them leaving the store when a hand grabbed her arm. Ultima jumped, and the books she was holding dropped on her foot.
“Ah, ouch, oh my stars. Akina, you gave me a fright.” Ultima jumped and held on to Akina’s arm.
“Are you well? You look pale,” said Akina.“Yes, I’m fine. Let’s pay for your things. We must get to the house.” Ultima paid for her book and Akina’s things, and they left. When they stepped out of the store, Ultima looked around for the young woman, but they were gone. So, Ultima called for a carriage to drive them back to the brothel thinking on the day her daughter was conceived.
CHAPTER 4
The Bachelor Party
Ultima walked into the ballroom, admiring everything in her path. She noticed a magnificent crystal chandelier spiraling down from the arched pale-blue and white ceiling. It made the room seem imposing by illuminating the glimmering peach and light-gray walls. The floor was so polished it reminded her of an ice-covered street. Paintings of men and women of times past, displayed in their best clothing, and sceneries of pastures and country scenes covered the ballroom walls. There were statues in a corner here and there, and the cathedral ceiling, with its lovely gold crown moldings, gave an air of grandeur.
Oh, this place wasn’t just any manor—this was the home of the nephew of King Trevino Otarana. The duke was the son of King Trevino’s only sister, and the duke had finally found a bride. He was getting married in a week. He had invited many of his friends to a party at his manor to say goodbye to his singlehood.
There was a five-piece ensemble that provided music for dancing. Ultima was there to sing and dance in a group play. And she had done her part in the first hour of the party. She walked around the rooms, picking at the different pastries on the serving tables. It wasn’t every day she could eat chocolate-covered strawberries.
Men talked to her and asked her to dance, which she enjoyed as much as engaging in interesting conversations with them. Ultima took a moment to rest from the dance floor to walk around the manor. She noticed card games going on in some rooms; in others, Exotics sang the favorite songs of the men in attendance. Servants walked about with flutes of champagne, one of which she accepted. Xawata allowed her only the one alcoholic beverage per party.
The top Exotic dancer and singer of the group was Exotic Leliana, Ultima’s teacher and chaperone. Ultima thought Leliana was so beautiful with her red hair and oval-shaped face. It was Leliana who offered exclusive entertainment to the groom, while Ultima was one of many entertainers of the night. Xawata, her owner, had sent three of his most famous dancers and three singers, besides four other Exotics.
In the last weeks, Ultima’s life moved from plays to recitals. She knew the whole thing was part of a well-orchestrated social construct to keep the elite entertained. Her trade was her life. It wasn’t an act. Nothing was fake; it was all real. For Ultima, her appearance was vital to her success, and at the party, her clothing said who and what she was. Ultima knew she represented wealth, education, and sensuality. The manner in which Ultima behaved and spoke communicated to others which brothel she came from and the quality of her education. So, Ultima used her hard-earned knowledge to show all, especially to Leliana; she was ready to get her full license as an Exotic.
Ultima talked to the many men who approached her, and as she sauntered around, she kept control of herself and the situation. She stayed aloof, yet a little sexy, playful, and confident. Ultima kept her distance, and ensured her half-mask covering the upper part of her face never came off, adding to her mystery.
The night progressed, the men got drunk, and things changed. Some left, and for those who remained, the party moved to a smaller room. Ultima knew almost all the men at the party. Her teacher had introduced them to her over the years.
She walked into a room where Leliana was whispering something saucy into the groom’s ear by the look on his face. That’s when Ultima saw him—a young man playing cards and having fun with his friends. He looked up, and she noticed his eyes, deep-green eyes. Those eyes mesmerized her, but he quickly looked away.
The man had light-brown hair and a slim body, which reminded her of the strong dancers that helped her practice her routines. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his mid-forearm, and she noticed his lightning battlemage trade-tattoo. He appeared to be in his twenties. Ultima’s hairdresser had collected her black hair in a cascade of curls that fell gracefully down her back. She looked down at her dress. A bright red gown, tight across her body and opened at her back, exposing her upper breasts and revealing the first marks of the Exotic-tattoo. She looked the part, but he hadn’t spared more than a moment’s glance to look at her. The young man kept winning at his game of cards until he eventually stopped playing.
“That’s it. I’m taking my winnings,” said the handsome young man.
“What? Won’t you let me win back some of what I lost?” said the Duke of Greenwood, son of the king’s sister, Princess Marguerite.
“If we don’t stop, I’m going to win your dukedom,” joked the young man.
“Henry, you better cut your losses. This young man has the luck of the Lady of the Lakes,” said the Duke of Abernathy. He too held the room’s feminine attention with his devil-may-care appearance, light-brown hair, cut short at the back and left a bit longer in the front. One arm circled the courtesan who sat on his lap, the other held a drink which he moved a little vigorously, splashing it about the place as he talked.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, my dear nephew, I agree with Noah. Cut your losses and run, son,” said the groom’s uncle, slurring his words a little. He was the Grand Duke of Hausman, younger brother to the King of Tsestelago.
“How about this, let’s play one more game; if you win, you get this beauty for the entire night. I surely can afford her. She isn’t one of the top Exotics, but all the entertainers here are Xawata’s. So, she’s bound to give you great service.” Ultima was standing next to the groom, gawking at the young man when the duke took Ultima by the arm and showed her to his opponent.
“Oh, she’s a pretty one. Come on, do it; one more game. In your boots, I’d do it,” said Lord Thomas, the youngest son of the Duke of Hausman.
“If I win, I get all my winnings back and your new Takapian stallion. How’s that, my friend? One more game, please!” said the young Duke of Greenwood. The young man looked at Ultima from head to toe, and he smiled at her.
“She is pretty. Fine, set up the game,” said the young man in a pleasant voice.
Exotic Leliana approached Ultima quietly and whispered, “Ultima, you came here to sing and dance, not to give any sexual services to anyone. But in this case, if the Lord wins, I’ll permit you. I’ll charge the duke for any services you give. Remember to do only what is in your trade license, and if he forces you to do anything outside your trade limitations, you must let me know right away.”
Ultima nodded as she stood next to Leliana, while the men continued playing their card game. Ultima knew how to play many different card games, but this time she lost track of who held what, and what was happening in the game. She was the price, for intimacy with the one person she was attracted to in the room.
What if he wins the game? That would be lovely. Ultima didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to believe that maybe he would like her. Perhaps he would come to visit her at the brothel, and they would in time have some type of romance, like many of the Exotics had. Or if he didn’t like women, he might simply get to know her and they would have a friendship.
And suddenly, AHHHHH, laughter and an uproar of shouts and congratulations. The young man won the card game.
“What? You can’t win six games in a row! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cheated,” said the groom, laughing and standing up from the card table, giving his opponent a hug instead.
“Well, have fun with your young woman. Leliana, where are you? Tell Xawata to charge me for a full night with her. Enjoy your time with this beauty,” said the Duke.
“A Xawata beauty, this should be interesting,” said the young man, and he took Ultima by the hand. They left the card game room, and he took her upstairs to the second floor to a bedroom.
sss
It happened. The handsome man had won her time. She was ready to entertain the man, and as a bonus, he was one she liked. Her hands shook. She had entertained many men before, but this time, her heart pounded fast and hard; he was so handsome.
Ultima followed the winner of the card game in a daze. When they reached his room, he opened the door and let her enter first.
“So, you are my prize for the night. It’s not every day I see a woman with black hair and blue eyes. And your complexion is so creamy. You are unique,” said the young man. He moved over to the fireplace and poked at the fire.
“Thank you,” said Ultima.
“Let me see your arm. I want to see all your skills,” said the young man in a charming accent. Ultima lifted her right arm, the better to display her trade-tattoos to him. No man had ever asked her to show them her right arm. He walked back to her and gently took her arm.
“I’m not originally from the Kingdom of Tsestelago, so if the trade-tattoos work the same way as in Yakuta, all these skills rising from your wrist to halfway up your upper arm tell me that you must be of the highest echelon, no ordinary prostitute. An Exotic, for sure—I’m not surprised.”
“Not quite, my Lord,” said Ultima, “I’ve yet to pass my final test. But I do have all the necessary skills as you can see.”
“Yes.” He continued examining her arm. “If I’m not mistaken, I see here you can speak Yakutan! Good, that is my language. I will only speak Yakutan from here on,” said the young man. With a gentle tug on her hand, he urged Ultima to sit next to him on the sofa that faced the fireplace.
“Do you smoke? Would you care for a cigarette?” asked the young man.
“No, thank you,” said Ultima, feeling a little less nervous. He’s so handsome. I wonder how well he kisses.
“Good! I love women with black hair.” He said, touching Ultima’s curls. “Do you know any Yakutan Songs? I want you to sing for me?”
“I will do whatever you ask of me that is within my trade license. However, there are a few rules I need to make you aware of before we start,” said Ultima with more confidence. “I want to touch him. He is attractive,” thought Ultima.
“Oh yeah, the rules, I know them: don’t hit your face, don’t ask for anything that isn’t within your trade, and I only have whatever hours that were paid. I know the rules,” said the young man.
“And my mask stays on the entire time until I make you scream in passion,” said Ultima.
“Oh! Interesting,” said the young man.
“House policy.”
“So, you are just letting me know of the policy?” asked the young man.
“I’m just doing my job, my Lord,” said Ultima.
“Do you know how to play Take the Castle?” asked the young man.
“Yes, I love that game,” said Ultima, surprised he asked her about the game.
“I have a board for the game in my bag. I want to play.” He stood up and went to rummage in a bag. He took the board out and set the game on a small table by the window. They played a game, and Ultima let him win.
“You let me win!” he said, all upset.
“Did I do anything to upset you?” Ultima frowned.
“I don’t want you to let me win. I want you to strategize and play to win. I want a challenge. Let’s try again.” And he set up the board game again, and this time, the game took longer. An hour later, Ultima won the game.
“Nicely played! I didn’t see those last moves coming. You are brilliant.” He sat back, crossed his arms and legs, and smiled.
“Thank you. Would you care to play another game, or maybe you prefer to dance?” said Ultima.
“I’m thirsty. I’m getting some wine. Are you thirsty? Perhaps you’d care for some wine yourself or something else to drink, maybe a port?” He stood up and went to serve himself a glass of wine.
“You should have asked me to serve your wine,” said Ultima.
“Why? I have two good hands. I can get it myself. We have here white and red wine from Alhambra, some hard liquor, a juice of some sort, and water. Which would you prefer?” He was looking around the drinks table.
Ultima stood up and went to get her drink. “Water for me, thank you,” she said. And he poured her a glass and gave it to her. He stood near her and inhaled deeply.
“I love the way you smell. It reminds me of a meadow full of lavender,” he said, looking at her and smiling. He returned to the table where they had the board game. The young man sat and removed his boots.
“I need to get new boots. I traveled from Alhambra to be here at this wedding, and I’m tired. Your trade-tattoo indicates you can sing.” He reclined on the sofa, relaxing, with one arm trailed along the back of the sofa.
“I’ve been a singer my entire life. I can’t remember a time where I wasn’t singing,” said Ultima, as she sat on the sofa next to him.
“Do you know any songs from Yakuta?” asked the young man.
And Ultima sang an old Yakutan song. She sang one song and then another song and then another. At the end of the third song, he stood up and offered her his hand.
“Let’s dance,” he said. There was music coming from the first floor. He took Ultima in his arms, and they danced to the tune of the distant music. As they danced, the young man hummed the song’s melody, and Ultima joined in to sing the words of the song. At the end of the song. They stopped dancing; he took a small step back, a little away from her.
“May I kiss you?” he asked.
“Why are you asking?” Ultima couldn’t understand the man. Why does he behave as if I’m a woman to be courted?
“If you don’t want to me to kiss you, I’ll not do it. We can spend the night talking and playing games,” said the young man.
Ultima frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Simple, I only kiss women that want to kiss me,” said the young man. Ultima opened her mouth, and it took her a minute to comprehend. She looked around and then at him and his green eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He kissed her.
He is kissing me—I’m not kissing him! This is sublime. He certainly knows how to kiss properly. Not invasive; not biting me. No rough beard or mustache. I don’t have to do anything but enjoy his kisses. This is nice.
He broke the kiss, still holding Ultima in his arms.
No, no, no, no, don’t stop the kiss.
“I want to touch you,” said the young man.
“Yes, touch me,” she said, smiling at him.
He pulled a few strings, and the top of her dress fell to her hips. She stood half naked, held in the arms of the first man she was truly attracted to. He was touching her arms and the round of her breast. He kissed Ultima again, separated from her, and took off his shirt.
Ultima walked over to the bed with a slow and sexy walk. He took off his pants.
Still standing, she turned to watch him. Yes! I like what I see. It will be nice to please him. Oh, his body is so well proportioned. He has the typical golden, red, and white lightning veins, beautiful. Ultima’s thoughts were all about the man she was about to service.
He walked over to Ultima, took her in his arms and touched her face.
“You are one beautiful courtesan, and so young. How old are you?” he asked.
“I’m nineteen,” said Ultima.
He stroked her breast, just over her tattoo. “I see the first marking of an Exotic. If you are not a full Exotic yet, then what are you?” said the young man, pulling a little away from her.
“Please, don’t reject me away. If Exotics were a mere trade, I would be a journeyman. I’ve worked hard to get where I am now. I need to stay, else my master will take my golden collar from me and demote me,” said Ultima, holding on to his arm.
“Golden collar? You are a slave, Exotic?” he demanded.
“Yes, I’ve been a slave my entire life; being an Exotic is a great honor for me,” said Ultima. The young man took a deep breath, lowered his arms and stepped away.
“I see you have a golden necklace, but it doesn’t look like a collar.”
“My master thought it would look better with my dress. Don’t you desire me?” asked Ultima.
“I only consort with free Exotics. Slave Exotics are the same as sex slaves, only for rich men. We don’t have slaves in my kingdom. It isn’t your fault. Get dressed and go. You have no fault in this,” said the young man. He stepped back, put on his pants, and sat on the sofa. The man took a deep breath, stretched the back of his neck, and closed his eyes.
He told me to go. Ultima didn’t know what to do. This man wasn’t what she was used to, and that piqued her curiosity. She thought his body was gorgeous. Ultima wanted to touch every single one of his blue lighting markings on his body. He did things differently, and that was so sexy. She wanted to taste his kiss again.
Ultima looked at the man, and she noticed he had the start of an erection. He wanted her. And in the middle of it all, she wanted him; he aroused her, so she listened to her body. Ultima went to sit next to him and touched his leg.
“My Lord, I may be a slave, but I’m also a woman, and I wish to stay. I like you. I said I wanted you to kiss me, and I meant it. I said I wanted you to touch me, and it wasn’t a lie. Will you let me stay? If you truly don’t want to touch me, then we can play games or converse if you like,” said Ultima.
“Slaves have no choices,” said the young man. Ultima looked at his body, gave him a half-smile.
“My master will get paid whether I go or if I stay. You told me to leave, but I want to stay. That is my choice,” said Ultima.
“That is your master talking. You are beautiful, and it would be easy for me to take you, but your master has taken your will from this event. Your master will get paid for your work, and you will get nothing. You didn’t choose me or my touch. You didn’t choose this life. Go!” said the young man. Ultima looked at him. Never in her life had anyone treated her this way.
“You gave me a choice. I could have played games all night with you, but I let you touch me. I’m choosing to stay. In this moment, I’m a woman, fully knowing what I want, and I want to stay. Why don’t we play another game of Take the Tower? I want to play a game,” said Ultima with a smile.
“Alright, let’s play, but don’t let me win.” He said with a smile. Ultima raised the top of her dress, but she didn’t tie the bindings.
“Fine, but this time, let’s play for a wager. If you win, what would you like me to do?”
“I should like for you to sing, but in Palermo this time.” He said, stretching his back.
“Deal, and if I win, I want a kiss. I like your kisses,” said Ultima.
“Ha, ha, ha, you are relentless. Fine, I enjoy kissing you as well,” said the young man. And they played a new game. After a while of playing, Ultima won again.
“Nicely played.” He smiled.
“Thank you; you make it hard for me to win.” She stood from her chair and went to get a drink.
“Will you have another glass of wine?” asked Ultima.
“No, thank you.”
She noticed he was looking at her every move.
Ultima returned to him and reclined on the table in front of him with a glass of wine in her hand. She took a sip.
He leaned forward and kissed Ultima, and she kissed him back.
“Would you like to play another game?” said Ultima in her sexiest voice. She wanted him. Never in her life had Ultima wanted a man as bad as she wanted him at that moment. It was all about sex. And she was going to have it.
He kissed her again.
“I want you. I would do this for free,” said Ultima, and he took her dress off.
Lifting her in his arms, he took her to bed. Ultima had the best time of her young life.
Sometime later, the young man shouted in passion, and he removed Ultima’s mask.
“You are exquisite,” he said, kissing her, and they both fell asleep.
sss
Four and a half months later
“Ultima, what have you done?” asked Exotic Leliana. The woman was pacing from one side of the room to the other. Her long skirts made a swooshing sound as she walked over the hardwood floor.
“I didn’t know what was happening. You fixed me when I was twelve.” Hands shaking, fingers felt like a million pins were prickling them. Sweat flowing down her spine, Ultima shuddered. “Xawata will come to your room soon,” said Leliana. And a few minutes later, there was the sound of footsteps outside her door.
Thump, thump, thump. Xawata opened the door, and he entered—as tall as he was ugly.
“Four months, four months!” shouted Xawata. “Why did you wait so long to tell us? And the most important question: ‘How in hell did this happen?’ We.had.her.fixed! Leliana, she is your student. Didn’t you teach her how to prevent this from happening?” Xawata’s blue eyes bulged out of his sockets.
“Ultima, do you have anything to say about this?” asked Leliana.
“I thought I was fixed. I never had to worry before. And now, it just never crossed my mind that I was with child,” said Ultima.
“What I don’t understand is how the maids didn’t notice she wasn’t bleeding for the last four months? This is a conspiracy against me,” said Xawata.
“That was it. I was bleeding. So, I noticed nothing until this last month that I didn’t bleed at all,” said Ultima.
“How do we know we can’t get rid of the thing? There’s got to be away. It can’t be four months,” said Xawata.
“We had a healer brought here to get it removed, but she was the one that told us it was more than four months and removing it would kill Ultima. The child is too large. Look at her; she is showing,” said Leliana.
“I’m sorry!” said Ultima, lowering her head. Eyes watering.
“You’re sorry! Ha, this is unheard of, an Exotic mother,” shouted Xawata.
“She must have the child; there is no other way now,” said Leliana.
“Fine, but she will still work as a singer and entertainer. We will hide the pregnancy. She will teach history, numbers, and languages to the Exotic girls in training. She will serve as a servant if needed. As soon as the child is born, I want her to start a regimen of exercise to regain her body shape,” said Xawata.
“What will happen to the child?” asked Leliana.
Ultima’s head snapped up, eyes wide open, still full of tears and now with a runny nose too; she looked at Xawata.
“Let me keep it. I’ll work hard for you. It will not be in your way,” said Ultima, with tears rolling down her face. Xawata looked at Ultima, and the old man smiled. He said nothing for a few minutes.
“Fine—but the child will stay as my slave. Do you know who’s the father?” asked Xawata.
Although Ultima knew his face, she had never found out the name of the man she serviced at the Duke of Greenwood’s bachelor party.
“No,” said Ultima.
“What will this do to her status as an Exotic?” asked Leliana.
“She can continue to move up depending on how fast she can get back to receiving clients. I’ve spent a lot of coin on this one,” said Xawata.
“We can do this if we make her exclusive enough to keep her from the rough ones until her body is ready to take on the challenge. Giving birth will raise her level of pain tolerance to a higher threshold, which will be a good thing for you,” said Leliana.
“I want her fixed again once this bastard child is born,” said Xawata.
“I think her magic got in the way and was the reason for her getting with child. She is a healer. Her body just might heal itself,” said Leliana, looking from Ultima to Xawata.
“This is all I need, an Exotic that can’t stay fixed. Teach Ultima to prevent getting with child, now that we suspect she can’t stay fixed; we must get her in a schedule,” said Xawata.
“I’ll teach her all she needs to know, so to not let this happen ever again. I’ll also get her on a special schedule,” said Leliana. And Xawata left the room, slamming the door on his way out. Leliana rubbed the back of her neck, and she looked at Ultima with disgust.
“It is a miracle he didn’t have you killed. He just loves his coin too much. Fortunately for you, he’s invested way too much coin in your education by now. You owe him your life and the life of your child, so make the best of it,” said Exotic Leliana, leaving the room.
Ultima stayed in her room, smiling. Her scheme worked. She kept her child. She remembered the night at the bachelor party. When their time was over, she fell asleep to wake only when Leliana came to get her in the early hours of the morning. She hoped she could see him again, but that was highly unlikely since he had mentioned he would return to Yakuta after the duke’s wedding. And it wasn’t until she returned to the brothel, that she bathed and cleaned the evidence of her union with the handsome man.
He was the only one with whom she had had sex for two months before the party, and she had not sexually entertained anyone for six weeks after the party. So, when two weeks after the party had passed and she missed her curses, then another week went by and she still had not had her curses, she knew she was with child. Ultima could feel it and she knew exactly who the father was.
She never expected to conceive; they had fixed her, or so they thought. However, when she did find out, and the evidence was ever present, the shock made her panic. Panic made her anxious. And anxiety made her run out to the backyard of the brothel. She needed air.
“What will happen to me?” said Ultima to herself while standing next to a tall tree. Pregnant slaves were treated poorly. And an Exotic with a child would indeed be reason enough to make Xawata beat her. Xawata had spent loads of gold on her education. She wanted love and a family, but those were dreams.
In the brothel, she had no one to love her. Instead, she needed to be the top Exotic. She wanted to be the best. She wanted her full Exotic license. That way, no one in the house would treat her poorly ever again. Exotics were not mothers. Here, she had no choice.
After an hour of crying, she took a deep breath and went to tell Leliana. She stepped away from the tree, walked back to the big house, and entered through the back door. On her way to Leliana’s room, she passed the servants’ rooms, where she encountered a commotion. The housekeeper and a maid were running in and out of one of the servant’s rooms. She heard the voice of a woman repeatedly saying. “Breath, you must breathe.” Followed by a moan and a muffled scream. Ultima’s curiosity peeked. She had to look.
“What is happening in there?” asked Ultima to a servant who came out of the room.
“Mila is having her baby,” said the young servant, leaving the door to the room open. Ultima looked in the room and the young girl, who couldn’t have been older than sixteen, lay on her small bed. Her sweaty hair up in a bun and the color of her skin looked pale, just like Ultima’s. The housekeeper entered the room and saw Ultima standing at the threshold of the door.
“Ultima, you must leave,” said the woman.
“No, I want to see. How can I help?” asked Ultima.
“Here, take these and place the cool rag over Mila’s brow.” The housekeeper gave Ultima a basin with cold water and a rag. Ultima did what she was told. The girl screamed and moan and after many hours, the girl gave birth. It was a boy. Ultima got to see a child being born and the joy of the girl with her child. A few minutes later, the girl was nursing her boy, and Ultima watched. And then the young mother sang a lullaby to her baby boy.
Ultima stayed there, watching. A few minutes later, she congratulated the girl and walked to her room. She had witnessed a living miracle.
Ultima had a chance to have what society denied to all Exotics like her. She had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have a family. Once again, she had a choice. At the bachelor party, the young man she serviced gave her a choice she made her choice and she was happy with it. And now she had a choice again. She could keep quiet, fool everyone for a few months, and have her child. The problem would be how to keep her child, but she would think about that later. So, she chose her child, and she kept quiet.
In her room, she cried some more, scared of the choice she had made. After a while, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.
Ultima did her best to hide her secret from her slave master. That night and for the next four days she ate her meats seared only, to collect the blood and keep her miracle alive. She did it again in the second month and the third; long enough until she couldn’t keep her secret quiet any longer. Ultima wanted what free women had and slave Exotics were denied. She had a chance at having a family. Who was the man that fathered her child? She didn’t know his name, but she would never forget his face or his green eyes. One thing she knew, she was happy with the gift he had given her.
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