Chapter Seventeen
A Breathing Paradox
Empress Hoshi Sato
"Goodnight, My Lady."
"Goodnight."
I close the door quite softly and for a moment or two stand there immobile, with my hand still on the doorknob. Though I know the fit is so perfect that nothing can be heard from either side of it, I still get the strangest impression that my husband is standing opposite me, listening, with his head tilted slightly to one side in the way he has when he's paying acute attention.
He kissed me as we parted.
Okay. It was just on the cheek. Not a big deal. Not even a kiss, really, more like a peck. But it's more than he's ever done before, and I can't help wondering if he knows how unsettling it was – if he actually intended it to be.
I make my way slowly to my dressing table, where my maidservant holds the casket for me to drop the pieces of my jewelry into it as I take them off one by one, staring at my reflection. Then she carefully removes my cosmetics and brushes out my hair, and when that's smooth enough she twists it into a braid for night-time – there's nothing I hate worse than having hair all over my face – and helps me out of my clothes and into a sheer gray silk nightdress with a long negligee of figured lace. Behind us, another couple of servants have been busy setting the bedcovers back for me to get in between them and laying out the usual items on my night-stand, including a carafe of spring water and a tumbler exquisitely carved out of a solid chunk of Blue John stone, one of a number of wedding gifts from my husband. When everything is done to my satisfaction I wave them all out – the one who was in charge of putting my jewelry away safely will come back afterwards to slip into the anteroom where she'll spend the night in case I wake and want anything – and for the first time today I'm alone. If only for a few precious minutes, I'm quite alone.
I slip between the cool, freshly-laundered sheets, enjoying the smell of fresh linen as well as the light spray of perfume across my pillows. Chamomile, lavender and geranium; I'm a hedonist about smells.
That's the first thing I noticed about Austin, when we were close enough for me to catch his personal, distinctive odor. He smelled wonderful. Myrrh, black musk and cedar – not a combination I'd ever encountered before, but enough for me to know he'd be a pleasure to be close to.
I pour myself some water into that marvelous stone tumbler. Blue John is a semi-precious stone, found only in one place in England, and a piece like this is not only valuable for its rarity but for the difficulty in making it. I lie back against the pillows, studying it. The variations in color in its striated sides is wonderful to see with light behind it, ranging from the darkest purple to the palest yellow, and where a pattern has been cut into it it's as delicate as a butterfly's wing. Not somehow the sort of gift I'd have expected from a MACO, though after our discussions prior to the wedding I suppose I should have expected that Austin Burnell would never be the sort of guy who'll do what you expect him to.
It ought to feel ridiculous that I'm married to a man I hardly know anything about; though from the outside looking in, I suppose the more ridiculous thing is that he's gay and I'm already carrying his child when he could have just killed me, seized the throne, and commanded any woman – or women – he wanted to bear his children. But he's explained his reasons for wanting to keep me around, and even discounting the fact that they kept me alive and on the throne, I found them to be very sound reasons indeed. Don't kid yourself, if I had any option he'd be floating frozen in space somewhere; I was proud of the way I held on to power after the Triad disappeared, and had no intention of sharing it if it could possibly be avoided. True, Reed was still 'there somewhere' and using his influence when necessary, so I had some powerful support, but for a long while he was very much behind the scenes and I had to take most of the decisions independently instead of consulting them and finding out what I'd decided.
And it worked. My origins may be humble enough, but I took my chances when they offered and it worked.
In hindsight I should probably have recognized the pattern. Jonathan Archer got to where he was by pretending to be subservient, hiding his very real ambition. Max fell for it, unfortunately, and that was his undoing. Erika was playing out of the same handbook, and I damn near fell for it too, thinking she was loyal. For a while I wanted to deny the terrible things Austin said she'd had planned for me when she made her move on the throne – not because I thought she felt any affection for me, but because I hated the idea that I'd been that gullible. After I'd watched the way Jon moved up on Max's blind side you'd have thought I'd have seen where Erika was coming from, but I didn't.
I miss Max. I think he's the only man who ever truly loved me, but even he was guilty of thinking I'd be content to be his bitch for as long as he would have me. I don't think the idea of marrying me ever crossed his mind, and if it had he'd have laughed at it. But then, if he'd somehow survived to see me become empress, I don't think I'd have married him either. Even if Jon hadn't got the better of him, I'd seen his softer side, the side that would sacrifice himself to give me – to give us all – time to escape the doomed Enterprise, and I'm not sure a man capable of that kind of self-sacrifice would make a good emperor.
But it still would have been nice, for all these years, to slide between the sheets with a man who actually loved me at the end of the day.
Austin – my husband – my gay husband, who by definition only desires me for my power – is the first man who has ever respected me as an equal. He didn't have to marry me; he could have taken the throne by force. He doesn't have to take my advice, though I admire his good sense in asking for it and I repay his respect by advising him the best I can. He doesn't have to treat me with those beautiful English manners, old-fashioned as they are, such as rising from his chair (though of course everyone else has to) when I leave the table.
If he was hetero, I'd call it courtship. At first it puzzled the crap out of me, because nobody had ever done that for me before, and it wasn't like I had anything he wanted. He has the power, if all goes well he's already got the pregnancy going ('got the bun in the oven' I think Brits call it) and as he's gay, he doesn't want anything from me sexually. Frankly I'm surprised that my informers haven't yet uncovered anything about anyone – even a slave – being summoned to his bedroom at night. I don't know if it's because he's politely abstaining because I have to until the first trimester of the pregnancy is past, or because he has a low sex drive, or what. That's just one of the puzzles that make up the breathing paradox to whom I'm married.
He talked to me this evening about this 'vision' he has about 'making things work better' in the Empire. I know exactly where he got that dream from, but I can't believe even Tucker envisaged taking things to this scale.
In another man, I'd have unhesitatingly described him as completely deluded, if not criminally insane. But if he's a visionary, he's a brutally realistic and practical one.
Paradox on paradox.
I've searched his history. He's carried out acts of complete ruthlessness. Quite recently there was an incident where a starship captain committed suicide via transporter after an interview with him; at a guess there was a mention of the fact that various matters about the captain's less-than-savory business dealings were about to come out.
Did Burnell allow him that option? The indicators are that he uncovered the secrets, and the reports clearly indicate that the captain attacked him – presumably when he told him the game was up. If he'd accepted the inevitable and cooperated, he'd most likely still be alive today, albeit in a penal colony somewhere. Instead…
Paradox.
He's gay. He told me that right upfront, which was at least honest of him. But whether or not, that clearly doesn't prevent him from being able to penetrate a woman.
The memory makes me shift with something that's not quite discomfort. After all, it's been quite some time since I've…
It wasn't the greatest experience of my life, though it could have been worse. It's not as if I'm particularly shy, but I guess it was the lack of choice that galled me the worst. Having watched the recordings, I'm satisfied with the way I held my composure from start to finish. And like I say, it could have been worse – a lot worse. I know a lot of guys who'd have made the absolute most of being entitled to fuck the Empress of All the Conquered Worlds in front of an envious audience. They'd have had me buck naked and made a Command Performance of it.
Austin, though…
There was no doubt he was ready, willing and able. And yeah, if you must know, it felt good. I'd lubed up and made sure I was relaxed and ready for him.
Thanks to one of those embarrassing prior conversations, I knew he wasn't going to even pretend to arouse me. 'I don't expect you to be excited by the occasion,' those were his words. 'I don't know enough about how to stimulate a woman's body to overcome whatever negative feelings you may be experiencing, so I'm not going to insult you by pretending I do. I'd imagine that any attempt to do so would achieve exactly the opposite of what it was intended to, so I'll do what I have to do on this particular occasion. I hope we may have the opportunity to learn more about each other later on.'
As little as I enjoyed those conversations, during which he was always brutally honest, at least they told me exactly what the situation was going to be. He's never, then or since, sprung any unpleasant surprises on me. On our wedding day he did exactly what he'd said he would, no more and no less, and though you find me any guy in the universe who won't enjoy demonstrating his status by fucking something, he was very restrained about it; even at the end, when he could have made a real show of cementing his domination by bellowing and cursing, he just signaled his climax with a few short, hard gasps and the sudden violence of his thrusting.
'I hope we may have the opportunity to learn more about each other later on'. It was a bit of a difference from 'I will have you, whenever and wherever necessary to maintain and solidify my position.'
Paradox.
And yet when he explained to me in the bluntest terms what he expected – no, demanded – from me in return for my being able to keep my place on the throne, he was in the process of carrying out a coup. He could hardly have been in greater danger. Speaking to me in the way he did was hardly likely to endear him to me in any way, but he was honest. And now, when he feels more secure, he treats me as if we'd married for love. I feel like a wild animal he's trapped and is trying to tame; the cage is real enough, but oddly enough, I think the kindness is too.
Paradox. It's not exactly easy to forget the promise that 'I could convert one of the tower chambers into a nursery, lock you in and breed you like a bitch until you simply expire from the strain of perpetual pregnancy.' But that said, controlling the Empire is not a career for someone who's not willing to make threats and carry them out. The threat may be real, and I believe it is, but it's an option I don't have to take. He just warned me it was there. I suppose that resenting it would be about on a par with resenting the drop into a crevasse; as long as you keep your distance, it won't cause you a problem. He's actually allowed me as much control over my own destiny as he possibly could without endangering himself.
…Why hasn't he summoned someone for sex?
It's got to be the position of a man's dreams. Essentially, he can have whoever he wants. There are Comfort Houses who supply prostitutes of the utmost sophistication for those who can afford to pay, and I'd imagine there isn't one of them who wouldn't leap at the chance to supply the Emperor for nothing, just to get a claw-hold in the new administration, with the kudos that would follow.
That 'vision' he was talking about. It even included slaves.
Given he's got this … well, I'll call it a dream, though there are other words for it … in the back of his mind, would he feel comfortable with using a sentient commodity?
I can still feel where his hands gripped my pelvis: not cruelly hard, but I felt the strength in them.
I can still feel other things, too.
Damn.
A few more minutes of that and I might have had a serious problem maintaining my imperial composure.
'Also, since you won't be enjoying sexual relations with anyone else until I have my heirs, you should feel free to request my attentions from time to time when you feel such needs and desires. I'm certain I can provide you with adequate stimulation, even if I don't feel the same kind of desire a bi- or heterosexual partner might feel. And what I don't know, I'm more than willing to learn.'
He said it like he was reading it off a contract, which I suppose in his mind he basically was. But a couple of times since, I've heard a hint of a very different tone he can use when he wants to: an octave deeper, and as sexy as all hell. If he was to say those words in that tone – and I can imagine him doing it – they'd have a very different effect.
Hell.
'Your room will be your individual territory, as mine will be mine. I won't expect to come in except by invitation, and I'll expect the same courtesy from you.'
The pregnancy hormones are having all the expected effects. I feel sick in the mornings, though not as bad as I'd expected, and it mostly wears off after a couple of hours. But I hadn't heard that it can have other effects too, which are damned inconvenient at this present moment.
It's not the moment to be remembering other times, either. Scenes with all three of the Triad in my bed, sinful and imaginative and insatiable.
Damnation. I've got to find some way to get to sleep tonight.
Of course, there are ways and means. But as I realize that every touch receptor on my skin seems to be on high alert, my body wants more… so much more.
'I won't expect to come in except by invitation, and I'll expect the same courtesy from you.'
Well, the doors have closed for the night. I hesitate for a long time over whether I dare knock; over how it would look, how it would affect the dynamics of our relationship, how it would change his perception of me.
Whether, in view of my precious pregnancy, he'd rebuff me anyway: Think of the baby.
I have the covers thrown back and one leg out of the bed before I think better of it. There are more ways to kill a cat than choking it with cream, and it could be quite the entertainment to see how Emperor Austin Burnell responds to … subtlety.
If you have been enjoying this story, please consider leaving a review. How do you think Hoshi is handling her new circumstances? What are your impressions of Austin? Is he a monster? If not, what is he?
