The Prince's Harem: Tales of Tavamara, #5

By Megan Derr

The worthiness of the royal family to rule is displayed in their harems: those who willingly surrender their lives to serve as concubines, entertaining, pleasing, and serving the royal to whom they are sworn, forbidden to do anything else or even touch another without permission.

 

Prince Aradishir is approaching his twenty-fifth birthday, but has not a single concubine to his name. Though he longs to prove he is as worthy of his position as the rest of his family, and has never lacked for offers, he has yet to find even a single man who makes him want to ask the vital question: would you be mine?

 

Until he crosses paths first with an illegally kept slave rescued from a deadly beating one night… a misfit soldier desperate to find where he truly belongs… and a daring thief known for achieving the seemingly impossible, but always secretly wishing for the truly impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Megan Derr
• Release date: Apr 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201229078

Megan Derr

Megan is a long-time resident of queer romance and keeps herself busy reading and writing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she’s not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her wife and cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers and can be found all over the internet.meganderr.compatreon.com/meganderrmeganderr.blogspot.comfacebook.com/[e-mail]@meganaderr

Book preview

The worthiness of the royal family to rule is displayed in their harems: those who willingly surrender their lives to serve as concubines, entertaining, pleasing, and serving the royal to whom they are sworn, forbidden to do anything else or even touch another without permission.

Prince Aradishir is approaching his twenty-fifth birthday, but has not a single concubine to his name. Though he longs to prove he is as worthy of his position as the rest of his family, and has never lacked for offers, he has yet to find even a single man who makes him want to ask the vital question: would you be mine?

Until he crosses paths first with an illegally kept slave rescued from a deadly beating one night... a misfit soldier desperate to find where he truly belongs... and a daring thief known for achieving the seemingly impossible, but always secretly wishing for the truly impossible.

The Prince's Harem

Tales of Tavamara 5

By Megan Derr

Published by Megan Derr

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Samantha M. Derr

Cover designed by Zoe at Rainbow Danger

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

First Edition April 2022

Copyright © 2022 by Megan Derr

Printed in the United States of America

The

Prince's Harem

TALES OF TAVAMARA 5

MEGAN DERR

The Discarded Slave

Aradishir never felt lonelier than he did at dinner, when all of his family had their harems at their side, displaying to all the world that there were people who trusted them so deeply, they were willing to surrender their lives to serving.

He was starting to think no one would ever look at him the way Witcher looked at his father. The way Kurosh looked at his elder brother, and Shirin looked at his sister. The way all their respective concubines looked at them. His mother's harem was the stuff of stories and songs, and his father's harem the favorite subject of gossip and daydreams.

Then there was Aradishir: quieter than his siblings, meeker than his siblings, content to help their parents by way of dealing with all sorts of tiny minutiae, taking meetings that required multiple translators and hours of work, tucked away in quiet offices while his brother and sister did the far more active, involved stuff around the palace and in the city.

Hardly the sort of prince anybody wanted to serve for the rest of their life.

Even if they considered it, they'd change their minds once they realized...

Aradishir pushed his dinner away and took up his wine to drink out in his garden. Thank the divine he'd taken lately to eating alone in his room. If his mother caught him being so disconsolate and self-pitying at a public dinner, she'd lecture him for a week straight. He'd grown up hearing the story of how his mother had been the lesser sister of her family, chosen at the last moment for reasons no one knew to this day, but never intended to be a queen. He didn't believe it for a moment, though he'd never gotten the true story from his parents, who simply smiled at each other in that stupid, annoying way of theirs and repeated only that they'd tell him 'someday.'

His mother had probably been born plotting for the throne, and it never once occurred to her she should be anything but a queen, the role seemed to come to her so naturally and easily. She certainly had the bossy, do everything perfectly part down.

She'd definitely be the first to point out that he'd never find a concubine by hiding away in his room sulking and drinking. But if he had to stomach one more dinner where he was the only one alone, he would scream.

He stared across the garden at the wall, just the first of several that kept him safely tucked away from the world. As he was the youngest, he was not permanently confined to the palace as his father was, or as his brother would be when he became king someday.

Not that he was allowed to leave much anyway, only for official matters where he was escorted by every guard his father could possibly spare, because apparently five hundred assassins were in a rush to murder the third child of the king, the one that would never see the throne, did not play political games like his sister, or did anything else of interest to anyone. He wasn't even a spare, really. Just excess.

Throwing back the last of his wine, Aradishir rose and slipped back into his room, where he pulled on clothes suitable for sneaking into the city. Just because he wasn't supposed to go off on his own, especially in the dead of night, didn't mean he obeyed.

Once he was dressed, he slipped out through the garden, over that wall, and behind a statue of some distant relative until the patrol had gone by. Once he was clear, he hastened through the public areas and around to the back, where gardeners had somehow overlooked a wall where bunches of thick, dense ivy grew, more than sturdy enough for a small, light prince to scale.

Up and over he went, and from there it was easy to make his way down into the city.

During the day, the famed market sold almost everything. If you could not find what you sought there, it was highly likely you would never find it. Or you simply had to wait for nightfall, when all the sexual devices, lubricants, and other such items were put out for purchase, along with other items that people were more comfortable buying in the quiet and privacy of night.

If one knew where to look, there were also certain substances that could be purchased, but Aradishir had gone down that path once, and it had been more than enough.

He was happiest wandering the stalls, buying himself the occasional toy, since it was pretty clear that was the only intimate company he'd ever keep until he was married off.

There were other items he bought on very rare occasion, because clearly he enjoyed making himself miserable.

He'd intended to only glance over the contents of his favorite booth, but a display of jewel-toned silk cords caught his eye, leaving him helpless to do anything but stop.

Always good to see you, my lord, the vendor said.

Aradishir smiled. And you. What absurd price are you charging for these? He gestured to the cords.

That launched their cheerful bickering over the price, replete with the friendly insults that were always exchanged between vendors and customers with a good, well-established relationship.

Half an hour later, Aradishir bid him goodnight and continued on his way, tucking the beautiful silk cord away in his cloak. Stupid to spend money on such things, just one more useless item to go in his trunk. Because not only did he require a concubine, he required a concubine who would want a prince whose inclinations leaned strongly toward submitting.

Aradishir was as well-versed in such matters as anyone without practical experience could be, outside a couple of forays to night houses that his parents would shriek about if they knew, but despite all that he'd been told, reality dictated that nobody wanted a submissive prince. There was a bit more leniency for princesses, but only if they were not a crown princess or, like his sister, the spare.

None of the rest of his family could be described as submissive in any way. Not that he knew what they did behind closed doors, but it wasn't hard to tell they were all used to being in charge at all hours of the day and night.

Then there was him, odd one out like always.

Whatever. He'd come out here to get himself away from the moping, not to dwell in it further. Maybe he should—

A scream of pain and anguish shattered the silence, sending Aradishir's heart immediately to racing as he looked desperately around for the source of such an awful, heartbreaking sound.

When he couldn't immediately find it, he raced off toward the sound as best he could trace it.

He found it a moment later, by a public fountain just one street over from the market. A man who resembled a mountain suffering a mudslide was heartlessly beating a smaller man, who lay curled up on the ground with arms up in a futile effort to protect his head.

Halt! Aradishir's voice boomed like thunder, the work of meticulous training, day after day after tedious day, because a prince should always know how to gather the full attention of a room. Or street. Whatever.

He strode up and put himself between the two figures. What makes you think you have the right to beat a man to death? If he has wronged you, summon a guard.

Go away, boy. This matter is none of your concern.

It is most certainly my concern that a man is on the verge of being murdered, Aradishir snapped. Explain yourself.

Instead, the man backhanded him, leaving Aradishir gasping from pain, reeling from the shock. He wiped the blood from his lips. You are going to regret that.

The man laughed, cold and mean. I doubt it. Now move aside before I administer the same beating to you that I need to finish giving my slave.

Aradishir's rage reached all new levels. Slave? The keeping of slaves is illegal!

You're a naïve fool. This is your last warning, boy: stand aside or be put in your place.

We'll see who is about to be put in their place, Aradishir said, and something about the way he spoke must have struck the man, because the scathing reply on his lips died unspoken, his eyes widening briefly

At the top of his lungs, Aradishir bellowed, Guards! Guards! In the name of the crown!

The— the man's words choked off, and he looked ready to throw up as Aradishir threw back his hood and removed the ring he'd placed on a chain around his neck.

As he slid the ring into place, the guards appeared, saw him, and immediately formed a protective wall between him and the bastard slave owner.

One of them, a lieutenant, bowed. Your Highness! What— He shook his head. How can we serve?

Arrest this man: for the keeping of a slave, for beating that slave nearly to death, and for striking a royal prince.

I didn't know! the man wailed, and continued wailing as he was hauled away.

Aradishir knelt on the ground, heedless of whatever soaked into his pants, and gently touched the man who still lay curled up, arms up over his head and face. That bastard is gone. He'll hurt you no more. Are you all right?

It took a bit more gentle prodding and soft reassurances, but slowly the man seemed to comprehend what was being said. He lowered his arms and let Aradishir help him to sit up.

Your Highness, you can't stay here. We must get you back to the palace.

The poor, beaten man next to him made a choked noise, staring at Aradishir in shock and horror. H-Highness?

Fine, Aradishir said when the lieutenant started to speak again. He's coming as well.

Though it was clear the guard wanted to argue, it was also clear he knew how to pick his battles. He nodded tersely and snapped out orders to the other guards, and in short order Aradishir and the poor slave—former slave, now, thank the divine—were being escorted to the royal palace.

Where dinner would have recently concluded, meaning his parents would have all the time in the world to murder their youngest child for sneaking into the city and nearly getting himself killed.

So much for trying to put himself in a better mood.

They'd scarcely reached the palace when servants appeared, which meant a guard must have been sent ahead to warn them. Marvelous, his parents were likely already waiting then, getting nice and worked up. Three of the servants took charge of the poor slave, hauling him away before Aradishir could speak properly with them.

Take care of him! Aradishir called after them. He is my personal guest! I want a status report in the morning, and to see him if he's capable. Damn it, he hadn't even gotten the man's name. Was he all right? How badly was he hurt? Oh, no, were there other slaves the man had kept that needed to be saved? Well, they would be shortly, right? Since that bastard had been arrested and likely would never see the outside of a cell ever again. Good riddance.