Even the Wingless (Princes' Game 1)

The Alliance has sent twelve ambassadors to the Chatcaavan Empire; all twelve returned early, defeated. None of their number have been successful at taking that brutal empire to task for their violations of the treaty. None have survived the vicious court of a race of winged shapechangers, one maintained by cruelty, savagery and torture.

Lisinthir Nase Galare is the Alliance's thirteenth emissary. A duelist, an esper and a prince of his people, he has been sent to bring an empire to heel. Will it destroy him, as it has his predecessors? Or can one man teach an empire to fear... and love?

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https://soundcloud.com/m-c-a-hogarth/with-all-due-respect-good-luck

Genre (setting): space opera (Pelted)
Tags: psychological games, high stakes politics, dragons, elves (space)
Rating: R for emotional, sexual, and physical violence

Excerpt from Part 1

Lisinthir stood just outside the court's arcades, struggling to compose himself without revealing the effort. The willpower it had required to remain stoic in the face of an Eldritch slave... he'd known the Empire stole slaves from the Alliance. It was one of his primary reasons for being here. But he hadn't known they'd also taken Eldritch slaves.

And, God and Lady, that Eldritch in particular! He would never have known her save for the portraits of her he'd seen on Ontine's walls, the spring before the Queen had sent him away. Except in the portraits, she'd held herself straight and smiled at the painter, and in one and all the paintings it had been a sweet and simple smile, an expression free of the court's machinations, cynicism and worldly wisdom.

The woman—no, the girl, for she was barely over her majority by Eldritch standards despite being older than most of the Chatcaava leering at her tonight—would never wear that smile again. And if he failed to win her free of this place quickly enough, he doubted she'd continue to draw breath.

A guard in black and red livery led him up a long, sculpted ramp past countless statues to a high door into the tallest tower of the collection. Two more statues framed it, and it was while waiting for the guard to unlock the door that Lisinthir suddenly realized one of the statues was looking at him. The paint sprayed across the male's skin had been patterned to mimic marble, and the ropes that bound him ensured he did not move, not even to quiver. But the rolling of the eyes—that, no ties could stop. Repressing his start of surprise, Lisinthir hastened after the guard and into the Emperor's tower... and not into a room, but onto a landing.

The guard started up the stairs and Lisinthir followed. He followed until the arches of his feet trembled with fatigue. Until the joints in his hips complained. And still they climbed.

At last the stairs crested and the guard jerked the end of his beak at the door and the sentries awaiting there. The long climb had dulled his worry over what awaited him, at least, and when the sentries waved him into the sumptuous but intimate room with its single table and twin chairs, Lisinthir merely chose one and sat to await the Emperor's pleasure. The room itself bore little decoration, save an impressive view through the balcony doors, both open to permit a breeze. Two silent males waited in the corners with trays, but they moved so little Lisinthir soon ceased to be aware of them.

Some time later, Lisinthir's question over whether the Emperor was already in the tower was answered by the shape that plummeted toward the balcony and braked at the last moment, snapping open matte black wings with a sound taut and deep as a drum.

During the presentation, it had been very difficult to see the Emperor save as a black shape with glowing yellow eyes on the distant platform. The shock of the Emperor's dramatic arrival paled beside the shock of his presence. He was black from tip to toe with the largest crown of horns Lisinthir had seen; and he'd seen several score males while walking down the long carpet to the front of the Emperor's court perch. Every move the male made was pregnant with menace and power, and his eyes when he turned them on Lisinthir were not merely yellow, but fluorescent, cannily intelligent, wickedly amused.

Here at last was the whip that had cut down all the men and women who'd come before him to serve in this capacity.

"I am surprised," the Emperor said bluntly. He had entered nude and now took down a black satin robe to pull over his arms and beneath his wings. "You did not retch at the sight of my slaves."

"Would it have served any purpose to do so?" Lisinthir asked.

"No," the Emperor said, then hissed a laugh. "Save perhaps to entertain me."

"I grieve that I missed an opportunity to entertain you, Exalted One," Lisinthir said. "Perhaps another time?"

"I'm sure of it," the Emperor said and made a motion with a claw. One of the servants woke from his statuesque repose and brought a decanter, pouring something blood-dark into both their glasses. "I am also surprised by your Alliance."

"How so?" Lisinthir asked.

"They send an Eldritch to speak for them? I was under the impression the Eldritch were allied with the Alliance, not servants."

"Your understanding is correct," Lisinthir said. "But the Alliance thought to try something new."

"Ah. So it would have nothing to do with your people wanting a stake in the relationship?" the Emperor asked.

"No," Lisinthir said.

The male plucked his glass from the table and looked at Lisinthir over its rim. "You speak clearly. I am pleased. I tired of the endless twittering of your predecessors. They had neither fire nor steel in them."

"On behalf of the Alliance, I apologize for having bored the Empire with pansies," Lisinthir said, lifting his own glass. "I will do my best to redress this terrible wrong."

The Emperor paused, then gaped his beak in a grin both terrible and fascinating. "Ha-ah! Very good." He pulled back the chair and dropped onto it, then bent a talon at the second servant. "So, is my Eldritch slave really too short?"

"The females of my species are almost as tall as the males," Lisinthir said, keeping his tone casual. "Your specimen is... substandard. Whoever sold her to you cheated you. You might consider a refund." He sipped of the wine, expecting fruit and drawing fire instead.

"You like it?" the Emperor asked, watching him. "It made one of the Seersa hack up a great wad of mucus."

"It reminds me of brandy," Lisinthir said. "Usually we take such drinks after dining, not before."

"We drink whenever I like here," the Emperor said. "And as for a refund... alas, not possible, since no money was paid for her. Still a substandard Eldritch is better than none at all, given how difficult they are to obtain, yes?"

"Ah, but you have an Eldritch now," Lisinthir said.

"Do I?" the Emperor grinned again.

"And not a substandard one, I might add," Lisinthir said.

The Emperor ducked his head, a motion that let him look at Lisinthir with both eyes and that also sent a tendril of black mane uncoiling down the length of his nose. "Ah, but males are of less use to me than females. No offense meant, Ambassador."

"None taken, Emperor," Lisinthir replied.

The doors into the room were knocked open as a servant dragged in a struggling beast the size of a lapdog that nevertheless managed to look twice its size by churning its hooves.

"Ah, dinner has arrived," the Emperor said, leaning back and turning to survey the chaos. "I understand that you must eat your meat cooked, and truthfully we have a taste for char ourselves. But the honor of killing our dinner I give to you, Ambassador."

He had no knife—he'd come unarmed—and come to that no knife had been set at the table, only something resembling a fork. Lisinthir supposed the Chatcaava used their talons for slicing and pinning things. He approached the servant and the small creature, gauged the length of the animal's neck and waited until the beast had thrown its head in the opposite direction before grabbing it and twisting. The muscles resisted more than he expected but not enough to stop him from breaking the spinal column. The creature weakly kicked him, then grew limp in the servant's arms.

As the staff withdrew to prepare the beast, the Emperor cocked a brow at Lisinthir. "One would almost think you'd killed before."

"We all have to eat, most Exalted," Lisinthir said, settling in his chair again.

"And you killed your own food?"

"Once I came of age, yes," Lisinthir said. "I am quite adept at the hunt."

The Emperor studied him with a hint of a sly smile. "Is that why you came alone? You are used to your independence."

"I am not interested in baggage," Lisinthir said. "I have no time to maintain a staff or haul them out of trouble when they err. Your ambassador brought no staff to the Alliance, Exalted. It seemed a fitting example."

"Some would call you mad for coming here unguarded," the Emperor said.

Lisinthir said, "Some have already called me mad for that. I care very little what they say."

"Very little?"

Lisinthir laughed. "Very well then. Not at all."

"You may not like it here," the Emperor said.

"Too late," Lisinthir said. "I already do." He drank the wine without ever lifting his eyes from the Emperor's.