SV Fic: 1,001 Kryptonian Nights (Chlark, Adult), Chapter One/??
This fic is for butifulyletdown. Zaye, I hope you're feeling better, and that you enjoy this story! It never would have been written if it weren't for you. :)
As most folks on my flist know, I haven't written much Chlark lately, but I'm a sucker for fairytales. I've done Chlark riffs on both Cinderella and the tale of Psyche and Cupid. So I wondered, how would Chlark look if you transported our favorite couple to the Arabian Nights?
And that's how this fic was born. It's a WiP, with maybe three or so more chapters. (Although, of course, feedback *may* encourage me to lengthen it a bit.... *G*)
So, I give you the first part of the tale of Sultan Kal-El and his harem girl, Chloe. I hope you enjoy, and pls remember that genies LOVE feedback!!!!
Needless to say, this fic is rated adult. This part is more PG-13, but I think it'll be clear from the ending that NC-17 territory isn't far away. :D
Last but *definitely* not least, huge thanks and hugs to my wonderful beta, laurelnola, whose invaluable advice changed the course of this fic for the better. Thanks, Dawn! You proved the Saints aren't the *only* winners in N.O.
1,001 Kryptonian Nights
Prologue
There once was a vast kingdom of many fountains, lush gardens studded with date palms, and rich cities whose marble palaces shone like white flame in the desert sun. Most beautiful of all these palaces was the towering Citadel of the Sultan, the home of the all-powerful Kal-El the First, who had flown down from the stars themselves to become their ruler the very day the old king passed away, leaving no heirs. Those who had seen him marveled at his might; tall and golden-skinned, he was clearly more than mortal, and the people soon began to call him the Son of the Sun, a true god-king.
The kingdom prospered under his rule, for Kal-El was as learned as he was powerful; he taught the kingdom’s doctors how to cure diseases once thought hopeless, and showed the farmers better ways to irrigate the barren land and bring forth abundant crops. Criminals no longer roamed at will, and soldiers no longer oppressed the people, for they feared Kal-El’s terrible wrath.
In one thing only was the Sultan’s reign troubling. Unlike the kings of old, he refused to keep a harem, to the great dismay of his nobles, who sought to win the Sultan’s favor through their daughters. And so, when his councilors begged him, Kal-El at last relented, instructing them to send to him the maidens of their choice. All of the highest-born families hastened to comply, and soon the new royal harem was filled with hundreds of ladies as lovely as they were noble. Each family hoped that its own choice would capture the heart of this god among men.
But, although Kal-El summoned a different maiden to his bedchamber every night, he did not choose a favorite. Still more troubling, the maidens in question were never seen again. Each evening, a lady would be dressed in fine silks and satins, led to the royal apartments with great fanfare….and vanish from the world.
Not surprisingly, the nobles of the kingdom were less inclined to volunteer their daughters. Therefore Kal-El’s councilors, ever more desperate to please their great ruler, ordered the Sultan’s soldiers to seek out all eligible maidens, noble or common, and bring them to the palace willing or no.
Among these unfortunates was the daughter of a poor scribe who had been dragged kicking and screaming from the shop of a local printer where she had been helping to set type. Her father heard her cries and rushed to attack the officer in charge, but it did no good, for his daughter was brought to the harem, and he himself was cast into prison for his offense.
And so it came to pass that, on the 900th night of Kal-El’s reign, Chloe the daughter of Gabriel was commanded to prepare herself to meet the god-king…..
Chapter One
Trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, Chloe focused on the squared shoulders of the court vizier as he led their small procession down the long, torchlit passage at a dignified pace. From the side of the passage that was open to the gardens, moonlight filtered through marble columns and turned the golden mosaic floor tiles to bright silver. As they marched forward, Chloe caught the intoxicating scents of jasmine, hibiscus, and gardenia.
She inhaled the aroma, and couldn’t help wondering if she would ever again have the chance to walk in a garden. Or to see her father, who was now a prisoner of the man whose bedchamber she was about to visit.
At the thought, her feet slowed to a halt, until a sharp command from the guard behind her set her back in motion. Reluctantly, she followed the vizier up a grand staircase leading to the royal apartments.
On the way, she sneaked a glimpse of herself in one of the large mirrors lining the stairwell. She was hardly able to recognize the slender figure she saw reflected in it. Gone was her simple homespun work dress; instead, the stranger in the mirror was decked out like a princess. Underneath a gauzy robe of finest lavender silk, she wore a very low-cut amethyst shift studded with white gems and embroidered with hundreds of small silver birds. The figure’s head was completely covered by a sheer veil in matching lavender that was held in place by a golden circlet studded with pearls the size of Chloe’s thumbnail. More pearls dripped from the mirrored figure’s earlobes.
From behind the veil, a few wayward curls of hair peeped out, and a pair of hazel eyes blinked back at her solemnly. The hair was blonde, a shade rarely seen in the desert, and to Chloe, that and the eyes were the only things that seemed familiar.
Her feet were shod in silver-studded sandals, she was perfumed with rosewater, she was swathed in fabric that cost more money than her father earned in an entire year. But she would have given anything in the world to be back at the printer’s shop in her own comfortable clothes, discussing the news of the kingdom and writing it down.
A sudden wave of anger overtook her. What kind of a king wasted his time murdering defenseless harem girls? Didn’t he have anything better to do?
She wondered, for the hundredth time, how he’d managed to make them disappear so completely. Mentally, she ran through the many stories circulating in the city about the Sultan’s amazing powers. Everyone knew, of course, that he was supposed to have come from the sky, and there were hundreds of whispered rumors from “eyewitnesses” who’d sworn they’d seen him flying over the city, but none of them, in Chloe’s opinion, were very reliable. Like any other king, she supposed, Kal-El was anxious to make himself look bigger than he was. The only difference was, he’d been more successful than most, at least so far.
She’d even heard one particularly outlandish claim that he could shoot fire from his eyes. Some of her neighbors had speculated, darkly, that he’d used that power to rid himself of those who met with his displeasure. For a moment, Chloe felt an uncomfortable chill, then dismissed the rumors with an inward snort.
Burning eyes? Please.
At least, she thought grimly, one thing was certain. Tonight, she’d have a chance to find out the truth for herself.
Over the vizier’s shoulders, an imposing set of richly-carved double doors appeared to block their path. They soared gracefully upward into a vaulted arch, their gilded surface shimmering in the moonlight.
“The entrance to the Sultan’s private chambers,” the vizier intoned, unnecessarily, without turning around. He had, Chloe noticed, carefully avoided looking at her directly even once, as if reluctant to meet the eyes of his master’s next victim.
“My lord!” he called out, facing the doors. “Your new dove awaits you. May she enter?”
For a long moment, there was no response, during which Chloe mulled uneasily over the vizier’s description of her, wondering if it had been intended as a compliment or as an acknowledgement that she was about to be sacrificed. She listened to the guards shuffle their feet uncertainly, and her unease grew.
At the soft sound of a latch clicking, she jumped and took a step back. Noiselessly, the massive doors glided outward on oiled hinges to reveal two turbaned attendants dressed in plain white robes, each with a scimitar hanging from a wide red sash.
On the front of their robes, stitched in golden thread and studded with sapphires, was Kal-El’s crest, a shield-shaped design enclosing a strange, curving symbol that, Chloe had discovered, no one, including the vizier, could explain. The sinuous design reminded her, ominously, of a coiled snake.
She took a deep breath and told herself to stay calm. There’d been no need to panic this soon, she thought. Of course, the Sultan wouldn’t open the door himself.
The attendants bowed to the vizier and motioned for her to cross the threshold into a vast chamber that was lit by what seemed to be hundreds of fragrant candles. The walls were covered with more gleaming mosaics, and hand-knotted woolen carpets as colorful as gemstones decorated the floor. Here and there, low inlaid tables held bowls piled high with grapes, figs, and honey cakes, as well as graceful ewers of cut rock-crystal that, judging from their golden glow, were filled to the brim with date wine. Around the tables, brocaded velvet cushions were strewn invitingly.
In the center of one wall, an arched opening led to a balcony overlooking the private garden below. At the other end of the long room, Chloe could just make out the shadowy folds of thick, fringed curtains that, she guessed, concealed the entrance to the royal bedroom itself. Suppressing a small shiver, she looked around nervously for any sign of the Sultan, but as far as she could tell, there was no one in the chamber except her and the two attendants.
Then, to Chloe’s dismay, the attendants, without another word, quickly backed out of the chamber and closed the doors, leaving her alone.
She gulped. Maybe, she thought ruefully, this hadn’t been too soon to panic.
“Hello?” she whispered into the flickering shadows, forgetting that she’d been warned not to speak unless spoken to. Anxiously, she watched the curtained bedroom entryway, ready to jump at the slightest sign of movement.
Seeing none, she exhaled a sigh of relief and decided to distract herself by exploring the chamber. To her delight, she found one wall that was lined with shelves jammed full of books and scrolls. Almost forgetting her fear, she excitedly riffled through scores of treatises, books of poetry, and illustrated manuscripts, many of which were written in languages she had never before seen.
To Chloe, who had often begged her father to let her attend the local boys-only scribe school, it was like a dream come true. Whatever else he was, she had to admit that this Sultan was definitely an accomplished scholar.
She would have given almost anything to have just one extra day to enjoy his collection. But out of the corner of her eye she’d caught a glimpse, half-hidden in a darkened corner, of a large, unadorned table that looked strangely out of place. Her curiosity roused, she reluctantly replaced the book she’d been reading and crossed the room to inspect it more closely.
It seemed to be made of plain dark granite, and, in sharp contrast with the rest of the furnishings, it seemed at first to be unadorned. As she came up to it, though, she saw that there were markings etched into its surface in a circular pattern. They were unreadable, but in the center of the circle was set a clear stone which had the same shape and design as Kal-El’s mysterious crest.
Fascinated, she reached out a trembling hand to touch the stone, and without warning, it began to glow.
She gasped, stumbled back, tripped over a cushion, and landed in a heap near the entrance to the balcony. Sitting up, she blew her veil off her mouth and rubbed her aching back, grateful for the thick carpet that had cushioned her fall. “I’m not cut out for this,” she grumbled, pushing her golden circlet back into place.
“I see you have arrived,” a resonant voice announced matter-of-factly.
Chloe jumped. Heart in her throat, she swiveled her head toward the balcony, from which the voice had seemed to come.
There, standing on top of the marble balustrade, silhouetted against the light of the full moon, was the great and mighty Sultan Kal-El himself. His tall form was dressed all in black, from his soft leather boots to his elegant caftan. Under the caftan, he wore loose black trousers and an equally dark tunic, on which his crest was embroidered in seed pearls.
He hopped off the railing onto the balcony and stepped closer, peering at her with mild curiosity. She was surprised that he looked so young; in spite of his air of authority, she thought he was no more than a year or so older than she was, in his mid-twenties at most.
From the floor, she stared frozenly up at his towering height, feeling like a small bird cornered by a hawk. It didn’t help that he was alarmingly handsome; dark tendrils of hair framed a square-jawed face set with eyes that seemed to glow with green fire, even in the moonlight. Mesmerized by that intent gaze, she sat, unable to move or to think.
His eyes softened as he watched her, and his forehead creased slightly as if he were puzzled. “What are you doing on the floor?”
She drew a ragged breath, tried to answer, and discovered that her throat was too dry to make a sound.
He leaned down, and this time his voice sounded friendlier. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
At the unexpected warmth in his tone, she felt her fear recede a little, breaking the spell that had held her motionless. Quickly, remembering her instructions, she scrambled onto her knees and kept her eyes on the tips of his boots.
“Your Majesty,” she began shakily, but the flowery speech the vizier had taught her died on her lips. God-king or not, this was the man who’d had her kidnapped and her father imprisoned, and there was no way she was going to flatter him. “My name is Chloe,” she finally said, simply.
She started slightly as a large hand detached her veil, took hold of her chin, and lifted it gently. The next instant, she was looking directly into those impossibly bright emerald eyes.
His touch was as warm as a desert breeze, and, for some reason, it both calmed and excited her. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, and drew her to her feet. “I won’t bite.”
For the space of a few more breaths, they regarded each other silently, and Chloe was uncomfortably aware that their bodies were only inches apart. Kal-El’s warmth seeped into her as she tilted her head upward to search his face, anxiously waiting for him to give her permission to speak.
A hint of a smile creased his lips. “At least you’re not afraid to look at me. That’s an improvement.”
Hearing the amusement in his voice, Chloe thought of the long list of vanished girls, and felt her blood begin to boil. “So you think frightening women is funny?” she asked sharply.
Listening to her own words, she paled in horror. She’d been unforgivably impertinent, she knew. At best, she’d be thrown into prison with her father; at worst….
Not wanting to think about that, she concentrated on keeping her head up. It took all her self-control to hold his gaze as she waited for him to call for his guards to drag her away.
His eyes widened slightly, but otherwise he made no move. “You are different,” he said, sounding impressed. He cocked his head inquisitively. “I hear you’re a commoner. Are they all as outspoken as you?”
For a moment, Chloe was too dizzy with relief to respond. While she blinked, trying to bring the room back into focus, the Sultan waited patiently.
“Don’t you know?” she ventured, cautiously, after she’d recovered. “You must have met a few by now.”
“Not like this,” he said, examining her with obvious interest. “I have to admit, you’re a welcome change. I was getting tired of making small talk with elegant ladies. I think I must have met the daughter of every nobleman in the country.” He grimaced. “And then some. One sheikh actually sent me all five of his daughters, and the youngest was only fifteen.” Shaking his head, he added, drily, “Some of those nobles really ought to re-examine their priorities.”
Chloe was horrified. “How can you be so unfeeling? What did those poor girls ever do to you?”
His head tilted to one side again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She searched his face suspiciously. Either the Sultan was totally sincere, she decided, or else he was the best actor in the world. “What happened to all those women?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
His expression cleared. “Oh, that.” He paused and smiled down at her. “I can’t tell you.”
Chloe tipped back her head to glare at him. “Well, I can,” she shot back, too angry to care anymore what he might think. “You had them all killed. Just like you’re going to do to me.”
Kal-El calmly deflected her glare. “I haven’t harmed anyone,” he said mildly.
Chloe knew her disbelief showed plainly on her face. “I heard-”
“I know what you heard,” he interrupted. “It isn’t true.”
His sudden grin was dazzling enough to light up the room all by itself. In spite of her misgivings, Chloe felt a little of her anger melt away under its spell. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he said in a mildly reproving tone.
Chloe’s head jerked up in shock. The last thing she’d expected from the Sultan was a lecture on the truth.
And the worst thing about it, she reflected, was that he was right. She had believed the stories without demanding any proof. That was, she conceded, totally unfair.
“I guess you’re right,” she admitted, grudgingly. “But, Your Majesty,” she added, looking at him pointedly, “where’s your proof?”
The Sultan burst out laughing. “I wish I had you on my Council. You make more sense than all of them put together.”
Sobering, he added, “I promise you, those other girls are alive and well,” he said firmly.
Chloe was still skeptical. “If that’s true, why am I here? Why not choose one of them instead?”
He shrugged dismissively. “None of them interested me.”
“I see,” she said bitterly. “You were bored, so you ordered your soldiers to drag in a few commoners to spice things up a bit. Is that about it?”
Kal-El had turned to leave the balcony, but at her question he looked back, a puzzled crease marring his otherwise-perfect forehead. “I never ordered that.”
“Well, somebody did,” she told him, putting her hands on her hips defiantly. “If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here, and my father wouldn’t be in jail right now.”
“I see,” he murmured, and sighed. “In that case, I’m sorry. Would you like to go?”
Chloe’s mouth fell open. For the second time in less than a minute, the Sultan had caught her by surprise. “You mean, just like that? I can go?”
“There’s the door,” he said, nodding toward it. “I won’t stop you.”
Dazedly, she walked toward the entrance, listening anxiously for the sound of following footsteps. There were none. When she reached the doors, she looked back to discover that Kal-El still hadn’t moved from the balcony.
He really means it, she thought. I’m free to go.
The Sultan’s green eyes watched her with something that almost looked like regret. His tall form was motionless.
Chloe hesitated. If she left, she’d be walking out on the chance of a lifetime. How often had she wondered about those strange stories people told? After talking to him, she was beginning to realize that there was much more to him than she’d ever suspected. If she wanted to find out the truth about him, it was now or never.
This is totally insane, a small voice inside her head whispered. For all you know, you're volunteering to spend the night with a murderer.
Resolutely ignoring the voice, Chloe looked at Kal-El and cleared her throat. “Um,” she began uncertainly, “I was wondering….”
“Yes?” he said, a shade too quickly.
“Would you mind if I stayed a little while longer? Just to talk,” she added, making sure to emphasize that last word.
His expression brightened at once. “I’d like that very much, Chloe.”
He stretched out an arm, pointing to one of the larger refreshment tables further back in the chamber. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding at the two overstuffed cushions placed next to it.
In two giant strides, he crossed from the balcony to the table. Her silken robes fluttering around her, she rushed to catch up with him.
“May I ask you something?” she said as soon as she reached him.
His eyebrows shot up, and he said drily, “It’s a little late to request permission.”
Chloe tried to ignore the flush that she knew was spreading over her cheeks. “It’s about my father. I told you he was thrown into prison. Won’t you set him free?”
Kal-El frowned and motioned for her to take a seat on a sky-blue cushion. He slid fluidly onto its mate, which was covered in gold-and-red brocade. “It’s my duty to uphold justice in this kingdom. Where I come from, that was considered very important. If he broke the law, then there’s nothing I can do.”
Chloe looked at him curiously. Not for the first time, she wondered where, exactly, Kal-El had come from. “But my father’s the only family I have,” she implored.
She dragged her cushion closer to his, and, leaning forward, added in what she hoped was a sultry voice, “If you free him, I’ll do anything you like.”
She was close enough to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, and noticed that it seemed to come faster. She smiled into his eyes invitingly, and watched them widen.
Slowly, he extended his arm, and long fingers began to stroke her cheek with a tender rhythm that sent electricity thrumming through her whole body. “There is no need to bargain. My father….is also the only family I have left. I understand how you feel.”
Chloe’s own breath was beginning to quicken. “All he did was try to protect me,” she said. Her voice, she noticed, had begun to shake.
Kal-El abruptly dropped his hand and straightened, pushing himself away from her. “I will consider your request,” he said, as formally as if he were issuing a decree. “But if I decide to free him, it will be because I think it is the right thing to do, not because I expect a price.”
She blushed again, embarrassed by her amateurish attempt to seduce him. Obviously, Kal-El wasn’t exactly bowled over by her charms, and why should he be? It wasn’t, she reminded herself sternly, as if he hadn’t had about nine hundred better offers. And she still wasn’t sure what had happened to the women who’d made them.
She was only sure of one thing: The man in front of her was nothing at all like the cold, arrogant ruler she’d imagined.
She searched for a way to change the subject. “I, um, hope you don’t expect me to dance for you,” she told him apologetically as he poured two goblets full of the golden wine. “I’m not very good at it.”
Kal-El smiled over his goblet and took a sip of the wine. “What are you good at?”
She shrugged. “I like to write. My father says it’s the second-best thing I do.”
His eyes brightened with interest. “You can read and write? In this kingdom, that’s unusual for a woman.” He lifted his hand towards her face again, this time fingering a wayward blonde curl near her ear. “Almost as unusual as your hair.”
She didn’t pull away, and told herself it was because she didn’t want to offend him. “I’m not from around here. My father and I came from a village far in the north. It was destroyed in a firestorm when I was a little girl.”
Kal-El's expression went blank, and he withdrew his hand abruptly. Nervously, she wondered if she’d said something wrong.
“A firestorm?” he echoed, his voice lowering almost to a whisper.
She nodded. “I don’t remember much about it, I was too young. But Dad told me it was the strangest sight he’d ever seen. The sky spit fireballs all over the fields and ruined the crops. No one was killed, but there was nothing left there for us anymore, so my father apprenticed himself to a scribe in a nearby city. A few years later, he found work here.”
Kal-El was silent for what seemed like a long time, and his eyes dropped to examine his goblet. Chloe peered at him anxiously, noticing that his cheeks seemed a little less golden than they'd been before. She was about to ask him if he felt ill when he finally spoke. “I’m glad you and your father survived the storm.”
His gaze was still averted, and there was a strange note in his voice that surprised and puzzled Chloe. It almost sounded--ashamed? Guilty?
She had no idea what was bothering him, but whatever it was, she discovered that she didn't like seeing him this way. Impulsively, she stretched out her hand and placed it over his.
His hand was so huge that her own barely covered half of it, but it seemed to lighten his gloom. He raised his head and blinked, as if waking from a particularly bad dream. “My father and I came from the north, too," he remarked in a brighter voice. "I grew up in his, er, palace there.”
“Really?” she replied, perking her ears at this piece of information. “Is he in the kingdom now with you?”
Kal-El shot a quick glance at the strange granite table in the corner. “In a way.”
Following his glance, Chloe frowned, wondering what the table had to do with the Sultan’s father. A gentle squeeze on her hand brought her gaze back to meet Kal-El’s.
“My father told me I had a destiny,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I came here to fulfill it.”
Her brows rose. “And what destiny is that?”
Kal-El smiled. “To guide the people of this world.”
Still holding her hand, he gently turned it palm upward and began to stroke the delicate skin with his thumb. Chloe, trembling slightly, made a move as if to snatch it away, and then, with a start, realized that she didn’t want to.
She sharpened her voice to hide her confusion, about her own emotions and about the odd answer he’d just given her. “Guide us how? By conquering this kingdom?”
He shrugged and took another sip of the wine. “I thought it was a good place to start. My father says I’m supposed to lead all the human-I mean, all the kingdoms in the world.”
“Wait a minute,” she cut in, realizing too late that she was interrupting royalty, “are you saying you’re planning on conquering the world?”
“Sooner or later,” Kal-El replied, sounding bored.
Chloe’s eyes grew round. Definitely, no one could accuse Kal-El of thinking small.
“Right now, though, I need a little experience,” he finished, and made a face. “Being a ruler isn’t as easy as you’d think.”
Huffing in disbelief, Chloe tugged to free her hand from his. He released her at once, and she drew back, crossing her arms in front of her chest and facing him skeptically. “Uh-huh. It must be tough to sleep with a different harem girl every night.”
Kal-El’s chest rumbled with bottled laughter. “How would you know? And by the way,” he added, teasingly, “I don’t remember saying I slept with any of them.”
Her brows arched. “Oh, come on.”
“Believe what you want,” he said, shrugging. “My father says it’s important to respect a culture’s traditions. That’s why I agreed to the harem in the first place. But I can’t tell you how many days I’ve wished I’d conquered a realm that believed in monogamy.”
Looking at the pained expression on his face, Chloe actually giggled. “Poor you.”
“It’s true!” he protested. He looked at her and the corners of his lips tugged upwards. “The only one of them I’ve really enjoyed talking to is you.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm at the unexpected compliment. “Really?” she asked, and her blush deepened when she realized that she sounded like a delighted ten-year-old.
“Not that they didn’t have interesting things to say, sometimes,” he mused as if to himself. “I never would have realized how things worked in this culture if….”
He trailed off, darting her a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, that’s enough about that.”
All of Chloe’s curiosity instantly came flooding back. “Enough about what?”
It was Kal-El’s turn to cross his arms. “That’s my secret.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “You have a lot of secrets, Your Majesty.”
“And you,” he shot back, “ask a lot of questions.” He paused, looking at her sternly, but the sides of his mouth were twitching suspiciously. “Let me guess. That must be the thing that you’re best at.”
“Dad always said it was the only thing that topped my writing,” she agreed cheerfully. To her surprise, she realized that Kal-El wasn’t the only person enjoying this conversation.
He cupped both hands around her goblet and lifted it towards her. “Here. Your throat must be dry from all that talking,” he remarked, grinning. Seeing her hesitate, he snorted impatiently. “I promise you, it’s not drugged.”
Her eyes met his. They seemed to glow softly in the candlelight, like the green depths of the faraway sea Chloe had crossed years before, and they radiated sincerity. Wordlessly, she nodded, and Kal-El tilted the cup to allow a few drops of the honeyed golden liquid to fall into her open mouth. She licked her lips, savoring the taste.
As she did, she noticed that Kal-El’s eyes were following the movements of her tongue with a look of fascination. He lifted one hand from the cup to wipe a wayward drop from her chin and brought it to her mouth with his finger. “Here,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “you missed one.”
Staring up at him hesitantly, she opened her lips and sucked softly at the tip of his finger as a tingling sensation went through the pit of her stomach. Above her, she heard him catch his breath sharply and she jerked away at once.
“Um, where were we?” she asked, shakily.
Looking down at her with a dazed expression, Kal-El didn’t reply at once. Finally, he set down the goblet and appeared to recover his composure. “You were asking questions,” he said lightly, leaning back. “What else would you like to know?”
Chloe brightened, delighted that the Sultan was in such a talkative mood. “People love to tell stories about you, Your Majesty. They say you’re stronger than a thousand men, faster than lightning, and of course there’s the legend about you flying down from the gods. Some people,” she added, blushing, “claim-of course, I don’t believe this, but they say it-they claim that you can even, um, set things on fire with your eyes.”
It was hard to tell in the candlelight, but as she spoke, she could have sworn that his eyes had begun to twinkle. “And your question is….?”
Suspecting that he was, somehow, making fun of her, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Is any of that true? And if so, can you prove it?”
Chloe watched closely as, sighing deeply, Kal-El pushed himself to his feet and slipped out of his tufted black caftan, letting it drop softly onto the carpet. He stood over her in his loose crested tunic and matching trousers, and gave her a small smile.
The next instant, Kal-El was holding Chloe, gently but firmly, against his chest, and the floor seemed to have vanished somehow. She looked down and sucked in a shocked breath.
They were hovering in mid-air outside Kal-El’s apartments. Somehow, in a fraction of a heartbeat, he’d magically transported them to a spot at least twenty feet above his private garden. She craned her neck to look around and saw that they were floating a few feet away from the royal balcony and descending rapidly.
Returning her gaze to Kal-El, she could feel herself shaking in his arms.
“Shh,” he said softly, with a reassuring smile. “It’s alright.”
She clung to him as they drifted towards a small octagonal fountain of stucco inlaid with intricate mosaics. Its dancing waters rained down on a pool that shimmered in the light of the full moon, filling the air with clear, silvery music. The spray from the fountain cooled Chloe’s cheek as they approached.
“Convinced yet?” Kal-El asked, grinning.
She nodded, wordlessly, as Kal-El set her down with obvious care on the manicured lawn next to the fountain. A breeze ruffled her hair, and it dawned on her that somewhere along the way, she must have lost her cumbersome circlet and veil.
Kal-El floated down gracefully and took a seat on a marble bench at the edge of the lawn, gesturing for her to join him. Chloe only stared at him, overcome by awe, unable to move a muscle.
Every amazing story ever told about this man, or being, or whatever he was, was absolutely true. The realization rocked her to her core.
Concerned green eyes met hers. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said apologetically.
It took Chloe several attempts before she was able to reply. “Are you really a god?” she breathed.
The answer came quickly and firmly. “No.” Tilting his head, he searched her face curiously. “Do you know, you’re actually the first person who’s asked me that? Everyone else just assumes I’m divine. Even the vizier, and he’s a reasonable man otherwise.”
Looking at her expectantly, he patted the seat next to him. Chloe, encouraged by his words, tentatively tried to step forward, and was relieved to find that her body was once again responding to her commands. A little of her confidence returned as she slid onto the bench. “Then what are you?”
“A friend,” he answered, simply.
She was still searching for a good reply to that when he turned to face her directly, eyes sparkling. “I like you, Chloe. Very much.”
She gave the inhumanly handsome, godlike being who sat next to her a look of total disbelief. No matter what he claimed, she was reasonably sure he’d probably tasted the delights of hundreds of the highest-born ladies in the kingdom. What in the world could he possibly see in her? “I’m-I’m really not that special, Your Majesty.”
His eyes roamed over her whole body, each glance as intimate as a touch, and there was an appreciative light in them that made Chloe shiver-only this time, not in fear. He was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. And, she knew, he wanted her.
The most powerful being in the world wanted-her. The idea terrified and intoxicated her at the same time.
He slid closer to her. Chloe stared back at him without moving. Now was the time to say something, she thought desperately. She should speak up, beg for mercy, ask him again to let her go.
But when she opened her mouth, only a single question came out. “Why?”
His head had dipped so close to hers that his breath warmed her cheeks. He paused at her question and, although Chloe herself wasn’t sure what she’d meant, he seemed to understand it completely.
His lips brushed against hers, and their soft touch set every nerve ending in her body on fire. “I’ve been looking for something,” he whispered softly into her mouth. “And I think I’ve found it.”
He kissed her, and for an instant all conscious thought flew from Chloe’s mind. She became aware that his mouth was pressing hungrily against hers, and instinctively, her lips parted to admit his tongue. She felt it explore the soft folds inside her mouth, at first tentatively, then more boldly, tasting every part of her.
Closing her eyes, she gave up all pretense at restraint. She leaned into him, and he responded eagerly, gathering her to him with a hold that was light but firm as steel. As he did, a low moan rose from his throat, and she became aware that his hands, splayed across her back, had begun to tremble slightly.
Dreamily, she opened her eyes, and looked straight into a nightmare.
For Kal-El’s own eyes were also open, and they were as red as hot embers.
Too frightened to scream, she pushed away from him, and Kal-El's arms opened at once to release her. A single thought reverberated in her shocked brain: Kal-El had burning eyes, just as the stories had claimed. Eyes that could make any number of harem girls vanish--herself included.
Jumping to her feet, she began to run blindly, neither knowing or caring where she went, as long as she escaped the terror behind her. Faintly, she heard Kal-El call her name.
She’d reached a small flight of steps when her foot jammed against something hard. Crying out in panic, she fell head-first toward the steps, and the last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was the feel of strong arms around her waist.
Read the next chapter here.
As most folks on my flist know, I haven't written much Chlark lately, but I'm a sucker for fairytales. I've done Chlark riffs on both Cinderella and the tale of Psyche and Cupid. So I wondered, how would Chlark look if you transported our favorite couple to the Arabian Nights?
And that's how this fic was born. It's a WiP, with maybe three or so more chapters. (Although, of course, feedback *may* encourage me to lengthen it a bit.... *G*)
So, I give you the first part of the tale of Sultan Kal-El and his harem girl, Chloe. I hope you enjoy, and pls remember that genies LOVE feedback!!!!
Needless to say, this fic is rated adult. This part is more PG-13, but I think it'll be clear from the ending that NC-17 territory isn't far away. :D
Last but *definitely* not least, huge thanks and hugs to my wonderful beta, laurelnola, whose invaluable advice changed the course of this fic for the better. Thanks, Dawn! You proved the Saints aren't the *only* winners in N.O.
1,001 Kryptonian Nights
Prologue
There once was a vast kingdom of many fountains, lush gardens studded with date palms, and rich cities whose marble palaces shone like white flame in the desert sun. Most beautiful of all these palaces was the towering Citadel of the Sultan, the home of the all-powerful Kal-El the First, who had flown down from the stars themselves to become their ruler the very day the old king passed away, leaving no heirs. Those who had seen him marveled at his might; tall and golden-skinned, he was clearly more than mortal, and the people soon began to call him the Son of the Sun, a true god-king.
The kingdom prospered under his rule, for Kal-El was as learned as he was powerful; he taught the kingdom’s doctors how to cure diseases once thought hopeless, and showed the farmers better ways to irrigate the barren land and bring forth abundant crops. Criminals no longer roamed at will, and soldiers no longer oppressed the people, for they feared Kal-El’s terrible wrath.
In one thing only was the Sultan’s reign troubling. Unlike the kings of old, he refused to keep a harem, to the great dismay of his nobles, who sought to win the Sultan’s favor through their daughters. And so, when his councilors begged him, Kal-El at last relented, instructing them to send to him the maidens of their choice. All of the highest-born families hastened to comply, and soon the new royal harem was filled with hundreds of ladies as lovely as they were noble. Each family hoped that its own choice would capture the heart of this god among men.
But, although Kal-El summoned a different maiden to his bedchamber every night, he did not choose a favorite. Still more troubling, the maidens in question were never seen again. Each evening, a lady would be dressed in fine silks and satins, led to the royal apartments with great fanfare….and vanish from the world.
Not surprisingly, the nobles of the kingdom were less inclined to volunteer their daughters. Therefore Kal-El’s councilors, ever more desperate to please their great ruler, ordered the Sultan’s soldiers to seek out all eligible maidens, noble or common, and bring them to the palace willing or no.
Among these unfortunates was the daughter of a poor scribe who had been dragged kicking and screaming from the shop of a local printer where she had been helping to set type. Her father heard her cries and rushed to attack the officer in charge, but it did no good, for his daughter was brought to the harem, and he himself was cast into prison for his offense.
And so it came to pass that, on the 900th night of Kal-El’s reign, Chloe the daughter of Gabriel was commanded to prepare herself to meet the god-king…..
Chapter One
Trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, Chloe focused on the squared shoulders of the court vizier as he led their small procession down the long, torchlit passage at a dignified pace. From the side of the passage that was open to the gardens, moonlight filtered through marble columns and turned the golden mosaic floor tiles to bright silver. As they marched forward, Chloe caught the intoxicating scents of jasmine, hibiscus, and gardenia.
She inhaled the aroma, and couldn’t help wondering if she would ever again have the chance to walk in a garden. Or to see her father, who was now a prisoner of the man whose bedchamber she was about to visit.
At the thought, her feet slowed to a halt, until a sharp command from the guard behind her set her back in motion. Reluctantly, she followed the vizier up a grand staircase leading to the royal apartments.
On the way, she sneaked a glimpse of herself in one of the large mirrors lining the stairwell. She was hardly able to recognize the slender figure she saw reflected in it. Gone was her simple homespun work dress; instead, the stranger in the mirror was decked out like a princess. Underneath a gauzy robe of finest lavender silk, she wore a very low-cut amethyst shift studded with white gems and embroidered with hundreds of small silver birds. The figure’s head was completely covered by a sheer veil in matching lavender that was held in place by a golden circlet studded with pearls the size of Chloe’s thumbnail. More pearls dripped from the mirrored figure’s earlobes.
From behind the veil, a few wayward curls of hair peeped out, and a pair of hazel eyes blinked back at her solemnly. The hair was blonde, a shade rarely seen in the desert, and to Chloe, that and the eyes were the only things that seemed familiar.
Her feet were shod in silver-studded sandals, she was perfumed with rosewater, she was swathed in fabric that cost more money than her father earned in an entire year. But she would have given anything in the world to be back at the printer’s shop in her own comfortable clothes, discussing the news of the kingdom and writing it down.
A sudden wave of anger overtook her. What kind of a king wasted his time murdering defenseless harem girls? Didn’t he have anything better to do?
She wondered, for the hundredth time, how he’d managed to make them disappear so completely. Mentally, she ran through the many stories circulating in the city about the Sultan’s amazing powers. Everyone knew, of course, that he was supposed to have come from the sky, and there were hundreds of whispered rumors from “eyewitnesses” who’d sworn they’d seen him flying over the city, but none of them, in Chloe’s opinion, were very reliable. Like any other king, she supposed, Kal-El was anxious to make himself look bigger than he was. The only difference was, he’d been more successful than most, at least so far.
She’d even heard one particularly outlandish claim that he could shoot fire from his eyes. Some of her neighbors had speculated, darkly, that he’d used that power to rid himself of those who met with his displeasure. For a moment, Chloe felt an uncomfortable chill, then dismissed the rumors with an inward snort.
Burning eyes? Please.
At least, she thought grimly, one thing was certain. Tonight, she’d have a chance to find out the truth for herself.
Over the vizier’s shoulders, an imposing set of richly-carved double doors appeared to block their path. They soared gracefully upward into a vaulted arch, their gilded surface shimmering in the moonlight.
“The entrance to the Sultan’s private chambers,” the vizier intoned, unnecessarily, without turning around. He had, Chloe noticed, carefully avoided looking at her directly even once, as if reluctant to meet the eyes of his master’s next victim.
“My lord!” he called out, facing the doors. “Your new dove awaits you. May she enter?”
For a long moment, there was no response, during which Chloe mulled uneasily over the vizier’s description of her, wondering if it had been intended as a compliment or as an acknowledgement that she was about to be sacrificed. She listened to the guards shuffle their feet uncertainly, and her unease grew.
At the soft sound of a latch clicking, she jumped and took a step back. Noiselessly, the massive doors glided outward on oiled hinges to reveal two turbaned attendants dressed in plain white robes, each with a scimitar hanging from a wide red sash.
On the front of their robes, stitched in golden thread and studded with sapphires, was Kal-El’s crest, a shield-shaped design enclosing a strange, curving symbol that, Chloe had discovered, no one, including the vizier, could explain. The sinuous design reminded her, ominously, of a coiled snake.
She took a deep breath and told herself to stay calm. There’d been no need to panic this soon, she thought. Of course, the Sultan wouldn’t open the door himself.
The attendants bowed to the vizier and motioned for her to cross the threshold into a vast chamber that was lit by what seemed to be hundreds of fragrant candles. The walls were covered with more gleaming mosaics, and hand-knotted woolen carpets as colorful as gemstones decorated the floor. Here and there, low inlaid tables held bowls piled high with grapes, figs, and honey cakes, as well as graceful ewers of cut rock-crystal that, judging from their golden glow, were filled to the brim with date wine. Around the tables, brocaded velvet cushions were strewn invitingly.
In the center of one wall, an arched opening led to a balcony overlooking the private garden below. At the other end of the long room, Chloe could just make out the shadowy folds of thick, fringed curtains that, she guessed, concealed the entrance to the royal bedroom itself. Suppressing a small shiver, she looked around nervously for any sign of the Sultan, but as far as she could tell, there was no one in the chamber except her and the two attendants.
Then, to Chloe’s dismay, the attendants, without another word, quickly backed out of the chamber and closed the doors, leaving her alone.
She gulped. Maybe, she thought ruefully, this hadn’t been too soon to panic.
“Hello?” she whispered into the flickering shadows, forgetting that she’d been warned not to speak unless spoken to. Anxiously, she watched the curtained bedroom entryway, ready to jump at the slightest sign of movement.
Seeing none, she exhaled a sigh of relief and decided to distract herself by exploring the chamber. To her delight, she found one wall that was lined with shelves jammed full of books and scrolls. Almost forgetting her fear, she excitedly riffled through scores of treatises, books of poetry, and illustrated manuscripts, many of which were written in languages she had never before seen.
To Chloe, who had often begged her father to let her attend the local boys-only scribe school, it was like a dream come true. Whatever else he was, she had to admit that this Sultan was definitely an accomplished scholar.
She would have given almost anything to have just one extra day to enjoy his collection. But out of the corner of her eye she’d caught a glimpse, half-hidden in a darkened corner, of a large, unadorned table that looked strangely out of place. Her curiosity roused, she reluctantly replaced the book she’d been reading and crossed the room to inspect it more closely.
It seemed to be made of plain dark granite, and, in sharp contrast with the rest of the furnishings, it seemed at first to be unadorned. As she came up to it, though, she saw that there were markings etched into its surface in a circular pattern. They were unreadable, but in the center of the circle was set a clear stone which had the same shape and design as Kal-El’s mysterious crest.
Fascinated, she reached out a trembling hand to touch the stone, and without warning, it began to glow.
She gasped, stumbled back, tripped over a cushion, and landed in a heap near the entrance to the balcony. Sitting up, she blew her veil off her mouth and rubbed her aching back, grateful for the thick carpet that had cushioned her fall. “I’m not cut out for this,” she grumbled, pushing her golden circlet back into place.
“I see you have arrived,” a resonant voice announced matter-of-factly.
Chloe jumped. Heart in her throat, she swiveled her head toward the balcony, from which the voice had seemed to come.
There, standing on top of the marble balustrade, silhouetted against the light of the full moon, was the great and mighty Sultan Kal-El himself. His tall form was dressed all in black, from his soft leather boots to his elegant caftan. Under the caftan, he wore loose black trousers and an equally dark tunic, on which his crest was embroidered in seed pearls.
He hopped off the railing onto the balcony and stepped closer, peering at her with mild curiosity. She was surprised that he looked so young; in spite of his air of authority, she thought he was no more than a year or so older than she was, in his mid-twenties at most.
From the floor, she stared frozenly up at his towering height, feeling like a small bird cornered by a hawk. It didn’t help that he was alarmingly handsome; dark tendrils of hair framed a square-jawed face set with eyes that seemed to glow with green fire, even in the moonlight. Mesmerized by that intent gaze, she sat, unable to move or to think.
His eyes softened as he watched her, and his forehead creased slightly as if he were puzzled. “What are you doing on the floor?”
She drew a ragged breath, tried to answer, and discovered that her throat was too dry to make a sound.
He leaned down, and this time his voice sounded friendlier. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
At the unexpected warmth in his tone, she felt her fear recede a little, breaking the spell that had held her motionless. Quickly, remembering her instructions, she scrambled onto her knees and kept her eyes on the tips of his boots.
“Your Majesty,” she began shakily, but the flowery speech the vizier had taught her died on her lips. God-king or not, this was the man who’d had her kidnapped and her father imprisoned, and there was no way she was going to flatter him. “My name is Chloe,” she finally said, simply.
She started slightly as a large hand detached her veil, took hold of her chin, and lifted it gently. The next instant, she was looking directly into those impossibly bright emerald eyes.
His touch was as warm as a desert breeze, and, for some reason, it both calmed and excited her. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, and drew her to her feet. “I won’t bite.”
For the space of a few more breaths, they regarded each other silently, and Chloe was uncomfortably aware that their bodies were only inches apart. Kal-El’s warmth seeped into her as she tilted her head upward to search his face, anxiously waiting for him to give her permission to speak.
A hint of a smile creased his lips. “At least you’re not afraid to look at me. That’s an improvement.”
Hearing the amusement in his voice, Chloe thought of the long list of vanished girls, and felt her blood begin to boil. “So you think frightening women is funny?” she asked sharply.
Listening to her own words, she paled in horror. She’d been unforgivably impertinent, she knew. At best, she’d be thrown into prison with her father; at worst….
Not wanting to think about that, she concentrated on keeping her head up. It took all her self-control to hold his gaze as she waited for him to call for his guards to drag her away.
His eyes widened slightly, but otherwise he made no move. “You are different,” he said, sounding impressed. He cocked his head inquisitively. “I hear you’re a commoner. Are they all as outspoken as you?”
For a moment, Chloe was too dizzy with relief to respond. While she blinked, trying to bring the room back into focus, the Sultan waited patiently.
“Don’t you know?” she ventured, cautiously, after she’d recovered. “You must have met a few by now.”
“Not like this,” he said, examining her with obvious interest. “I have to admit, you’re a welcome change. I was getting tired of making small talk with elegant ladies. I think I must have met the daughter of every nobleman in the country.” He grimaced. “And then some. One sheikh actually sent me all five of his daughters, and the youngest was only fifteen.” Shaking his head, he added, drily, “Some of those nobles really ought to re-examine their priorities.”
Chloe was horrified. “How can you be so unfeeling? What did those poor girls ever do to you?”
His head tilted to one side again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She searched his face suspiciously. Either the Sultan was totally sincere, she decided, or else he was the best actor in the world. “What happened to all those women?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
His expression cleared. “Oh, that.” He paused and smiled down at her. “I can’t tell you.”
Chloe tipped back her head to glare at him. “Well, I can,” she shot back, too angry to care anymore what he might think. “You had them all killed. Just like you’re going to do to me.”
Kal-El calmly deflected her glare. “I haven’t harmed anyone,” he said mildly.
Chloe knew her disbelief showed plainly on her face. “I heard-”
“I know what you heard,” he interrupted. “It isn’t true.”
His sudden grin was dazzling enough to light up the room all by itself. In spite of her misgivings, Chloe felt a little of her anger melt away under its spell. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he said in a mildly reproving tone.
Chloe’s head jerked up in shock. The last thing she’d expected from the Sultan was a lecture on the truth.
And the worst thing about it, she reflected, was that he was right. She had believed the stories without demanding any proof. That was, she conceded, totally unfair.
“I guess you’re right,” she admitted, grudgingly. “But, Your Majesty,” she added, looking at him pointedly, “where’s your proof?”
The Sultan burst out laughing. “I wish I had you on my Council. You make more sense than all of them put together.”
Sobering, he added, “I promise you, those other girls are alive and well,” he said firmly.
Chloe was still skeptical. “If that’s true, why am I here? Why not choose one of them instead?”
He shrugged dismissively. “None of them interested me.”
“I see,” she said bitterly. “You were bored, so you ordered your soldiers to drag in a few commoners to spice things up a bit. Is that about it?”
Kal-El had turned to leave the balcony, but at her question he looked back, a puzzled crease marring his otherwise-perfect forehead. “I never ordered that.”
“Well, somebody did,” she told him, putting her hands on her hips defiantly. “If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here, and my father wouldn’t be in jail right now.”
“I see,” he murmured, and sighed. “In that case, I’m sorry. Would you like to go?”
Chloe’s mouth fell open. For the second time in less than a minute, the Sultan had caught her by surprise. “You mean, just like that? I can go?”
“There’s the door,” he said, nodding toward it. “I won’t stop you.”
Dazedly, she walked toward the entrance, listening anxiously for the sound of following footsteps. There were none. When she reached the doors, she looked back to discover that Kal-El still hadn’t moved from the balcony.
He really means it, she thought. I’m free to go.
The Sultan’s green eyes watched her with something that almost looked like regret. His tall form was motionless.
Chloe hesitated. If she left, she’d be walking out on the chance of a lifetime. How often had she wondered about those strange stories people told? After talking to him, she was beginning to realize that there was much more to him than she’d ever suspected. If she wanted to find out the truth about him, it was now or never.
This is totally insane, a small voice inside her head whispered. For all you know, you're volunteering to spend the night with a murderer.
Resolutely ignoring the voice, Chloe looked at Kal-El and cleared her throat. “Um,” she began uncertainly, “I was wondering….”
“Yes?” he said, a shade too quickly.
“Would you mind if I stayed a little while longer? Just to talk,” she added, making sure to emphasize that last word.
His expression brightened at once. “I’d like that very much, Chloe.”
He stretched out an arm, pointing to one of the larger refreshment tables further back in the chamber. “Shall we?” he asked, nodding at the two overstuffed cushions placed next to it.
In two giant strides, he crossed from the balcony to the table. Her silken robes fluttering around her, she rushed to catch up with him.
“May I ask you something?” she said as soon as she reached him.
His eyebrows shot up, and he said drily, “It’s a little late to request permission.”
Chloe tried to ignore the flush that she knew was spreading over her cheeks. “It’s about my father. I told you he was thrown into prison. Won’t you set him free?”
Kal-El frowned and motioned for her to take a seat on a sky-blue cushion. He slid fluidly onto its mate, which was covered in gold-and-red brocade. “It’s my duty to uphold justice in this kingdom. Where I come from, that was considered very important. If he broke the law, then there’s nothing I can do.”
Chloe looked at him curiously. Not for the first time, she wondered where, exactly, Kal-El had come from. “But my father’s the only family I have,” she implored.
She dragged her cushion closer to his, and, leaning forward, added in what she hoped was a sultry voice, “If you free him, I’ll do anything you like.”
She was close enough to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, and noticed that it seemed to come faster. She smiled into his eyes invitingly, and watched them widen.
Slowly, he extended his arm, and long fingers began to stroke her cheek with a tender rhythm that sent electricity thrumming through her whole body. “There is no need to bargain. My father….is also the only family I have left. I understand how you feel.”
Chloe’s own breath was beginning to quicken. “All he did was try to protect me,” she said. Her voice, she noticed, had begun to shake.
Kal-El abruptly dropped his hand and straightened, pushing himself away from her. “I will consider your request,” he said, as formally as if he were issuing a decree. “But if I decide to free him, it will be because I think it is the right thing to do, not because I expect a price.”
She blushed again, embarrassed by her amateurish attempt to seduce him. Obviously, Kal-El wasn’t exactly bowled over by her charms, and why should he be? It wasn’t, she reminded herself sternly, as if he hadn’t had about nine hundred better offers. And she still wasn’t sure what had happened to the women who’d made them.
She was only sure of one thing: The man in front of her was nothing at all like the cold, arrogant ruler she’d imagined.
She searched for a way to change the subject. “I, um, hope you don’t expect me to dance for you,” she told him apologetically as he poured two goblets full of the golden wine. “I’m not very good at it.”
Kal-El smiled over his goblet and took a sip of the wine. “What are you good at?”
She shrugged. “I like to write. My father says it’s the second-best thing I do.”
His eyes brightened with interest. “You can read and write? In this kingdom, that’s unusual for a woman.” He lifted his hand towards her face again, this time fingering a wayward blonde curl near her ear. “Almost as unusual as your hair.”
She didn’t pull away, and told herself it was because she didn’t want to offend him. “I’m not from around here. My father and I came from a village far in the north. It was destroyed in a firestorm when I was a little girl.”
Kal-El's expression went blank, and he withdrew his hand abruptly. Nervously, she wondered if she’d said something wrong.
“A firestorm?” he echoed, his voice lowering almost to a whisper.
She nodded. “I don’t remember much about it, I was too young. But Dad told me it was the strangest sight he’d ever seen. The sky spit fireballs all over the fields and ruined the crops. No one was killed, but there was nothing left there for us anymore, so my father apprenticed himself to a scribe in a nearby city. A few years later, he found work here.”
Kal-El was silent for what seemed like a long time, and his eyes dropped to examine his goblet. Chloe peered at him anxiously, noticing that his cheeks seemed a little less golden than they'd been before. She was about to ask him if he felt ill when he finally spoke. “I’m glad you and your father survived the storm.”
His gaze was still averted, and there was a strange note in his voice that surprised and puzzled Chloe. It almost sounded--ashamed? Guilty?
She had no idea what was bothering him, but whatever it was, she discovered that she didn't like seeing him this way. Impulsively, she stretched out her hand and placed it over his.
His hand was so huge that her own barely covered half of it, but it seemed to lighten his gloom. He raised his head and blinked, as if waking from a particularly bad dream. “My father and I came from the north, too," he remarked in a brighter voice. "I grew up in his, er, palace there.”
“Really?” she replied, perking her ears at this piece of information. “Is he in the kingdom now with you?”
Kal-El shot a quick glance at the strange granite table in the corner. “In a way.”
Following his glance, Chloe frowned, wondering what the table had to do with the Sultan’s father. A gentle squeeze on her hand brought her gaze back to meet Kal-El’s.
“My father told me I had a destiny,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I came here to fulfill it.”
Her brows rose. “And what destiny is that?”
Kal-El smiled. “To guide the people of this world.”
Still holding her hand, he gently turned it palm upward and began to stroke the delicate skin with his thumb. Chloe, trembling slightly, made a move as if to snatch it away, and then, with a start, realized that she didn’t want to.
She sharpened her voice to hide her confusion, about her own emotions and about the odd answer he’d just given her. “Guide us how? By conquering this kingdom?”
He shrugged and took another sip of the wine. “I thought it was a good place to start. My father says I’m supposed to lead all the human-I mean, all the kingdoms in the world.”
“Wait a minute,” she cut in, realizing too late that she was interrupting royalty, “are you saying you’re planning on conquering the world?”
“Sooner or later,” Kal-El replied, sounding bored.
Chloe’s eyes grew round. Definitely, no one could accuse Kal-El of thinking small.
“Right now, though, I need a little experience,” he finished, and made a face. “Being a ruler isn’t as easy as you’d think.”
Huffing in disbelief, Chloe tugged to free her hand from his. He released her at once, and she drew back, crossing her arms in front of her chest and facing him skeptically. “Uh-huh. It must be tough to sleep with a different harem girl every night.”
Kal-El’s chest rumbled with bottled laughter. “How would you know? And by the way,” he added, teasingly, “I don’t remember saying I slept with any of them.”
Her brows arched. “Oh, come on.”
“Believe what you want,” he said, shrugging. “My father says it’s important to respect a culture’s traditions. That’s why I agreed to the harem in the first place. But I can’t tell you how many days I’ve wished I’d conquered a realm that believed in monogamy.”
Looking at the pained expression on his face, Chloe actually giggled. “Poor you.”
“It’s true!” he protested. He looked at her and the corners of his lips tugged upwards. “The only one of them I’ve really enjoyed talking to is you.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm at the unexpected compliment. “Really?” she asked, and her blush deepened when she realized that she sounded like a delighted ten-year-old.
“Not that they didn’t have interesting things to say, sometimes,” he mused as if to himself. “I never would have realized how things worked in this culture if….”
He trailed off, darting her a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, that’s enough about that.”
All of Chloe’s curiosity instantly came flooding back. “Enough about what?”
It was Kal-El’s turn to cross his arms. “That’s my secret.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “You have a lot of secrets, Your Majesty.”
“And you,” he shot back, “ask a lot of questions.” He paused, looking at her sternly, but the sides of his mouth were twitching suspiciously. “Let me guess. That must be the thing that you’re best at.”
“Dad always said it was the only thing that topped my writing,” she agreed cheerfully. To her surprise, she realized that Kal-El wasn’t the only person enjoying this conversation.
He cupped both hands around her goblet and lifted it towards her. “Here. Your throat must be dry from all that talking,” he remarked, grinning. Seeing her hesitate, he snorted impatiently. “I promise you, it’s not drugged.”
Her eyes met his. They seemed to glow softly in the candlelight, like the green depths of the faraway sea Chloe had crossed years before, and they radiated sincerity. Wordlessly, she nodded, and Kal-El tilted the cup to allow a few drops of the honeyed golden liquid to fall into her open mouth. She licked her lips, savoring the taste.
As she did, she noticed that Kal-El’s eyes were following the movements of her tongue with a look of fascination. He lifted one hand from the cup to wipe a wayward drop from her chin and brought it to her mouth with his finger. “Here,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “you missed one.”
Staring up at him hesitantly, she opened her lips and sucked softly at the tip of his finger as a tingling sensation went through the pit of her stomach. Above her, she heard him catch his breath sharply and she jerked away at once.
“Um, where were we?” she asked, shakily.
Looking down at her with a dazed expression, Kal-El didn’t reply at once. Finally, he set down the goblet and appeared to recover his composure. “You were asking questions,” he said lightly, leaning back. “What else would you like to know?”
Chloe brightened, delighted that the Sultan was in such a talkative mood. “People love to tell stories about you, Your Majesty. They say you’re stronger than a thousand men, faster than lightning, and of course there’s the legend about you flying down from the gods. Some people,” she added, blushing, “claim-of course, I don’t believe this, but they say it-they claim that you can even, um, set things on fire with your eyes.”
It was hard to tell in the candlelight, but as she spoke, she could have sworn that his eyes had begun to twinkle. “And your question is….?”
Suspecting that he was, somehow, making fun of her, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Is any of that true? And if so, can you prove it?”
Chloe watched closely as, sighing deeply, Kal-El pushed himself to his feet and slipped out of his tufted black caftan, letting it drop softly onto the carpet. He stood over her in his loose crested tunic and matching trousers, and gave her a small smile.
The next instant, Kal-El was holding Chloe, gently but firmly, against his chest, and the floor seemed to have vanished somehow. She looked down and sucked in a shocked breath.
They were hovering in mid-air outside Kal-El’s apartments. Somehow, in a fraction of a heartbeat, he’d magically transported them to a spot at least twenty feet above his private garden. She craned her neck to look around and saw that they were floating a few feet away from the royal balcony and descending rapidly.
Returning her gaze to Kal-El, she could feel herself shaking in his arms.
“Shh,” he said softly, with a reassuring smile. “It’s alright.”
She clung to him as they drifted towards a small octagonal fountain of stucco inlaid with intricate mosaics. Its dancing waters rained down on a pool that shimmered in the light of the full moon, filling the air with clear, silvery music. The spray from the fountain cooled Chloe’s cheek as they approached.
“Convinced yet?” Kal-El asked, grinning.
She nodded, wordlessly, as Kal-El set her down with obvious care on the manicured lawn next to the fountain. A breeze ruffled her hair, and it dawned on her that somewhere along the way, she must have lost her cumbersome circlet and veil.
Kal-El floated down gracefully and took a seat on a marble bench at the edge of the lawn, gesturing for her to join him. Chloe only stared at him, overcome by awe, unable to move a muscle.
Every amazing story ever told about this man, or being, or whatever he was, was absolutely true. The realization rocked her to her core.
Concerned green eyes met hers. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said apologetically.
It took Chloe several attempts before she was able to reply. “Are you really a god?” she breathed.
The answer came quickly and firmly. “No.” Tilting his head, he searched her face curiously. “Do you know, you’re actually the first person who’s asked me that? Everyone else just assumes I’m divine. Even the vizier, and he’s a reasonable man otherwise.”
Looking at her expectantly, he patted the seat next to him. Chloe, encouraged by his words, tentatively tried to step forward, and was relieved to find that her body was once again responding to her commands. A little of her confidence returned as she slid onto the bench. “Then what are you?”
“A friend,” he answered, simply.
She was still searching for a good reply to that when he turned to face her directly, eyes sparkling. “I like you, Chloe. Very much.”
She gave the inhumanly handsome, godlike being who sat next to her a look of total disbelief. No matter what he claimed, she was reasonably sure he’d probably tasted the delights of hundreds of the highest-born ladies in the kingdom. What in the world could he possibly see in her? “I’m-I’m really not that special, Your Majesty.”
His eyes roamed over her whole body, each glance as intimate as a touch, and there was an appreciative light in them that made Chloe shiver-only this time, not in fear. He was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. And, she knew, he wanted her.
The most powerful being in the world wanted-her. The idea terrified and intoxicated her at the same time.
He slid closer to her. Chloe stared back at him without moving. Now was the time to say something, she thought desperately. She should speak up, beg for mercy, ask him again to let her go.
But when she opened her mouth, only a single question came out. “Why?”
His head had dipped so close to hers that his breath warmed her cheeks. He paused at her question and, although Chloe herself wasn’t sure what she’d meant, he seemed to understand it completely.
His lips brushed against hers, and their soft touch set every nerve ending in her body on fire. “I’ve been looking for something,” he whispered softly into her mouth. “And I think I’ve found it.”
He kissed her, and for an instant all conscious thought flew from Chloe’s mind. She became aware that his mouth was pressing hungrily against hers, and instinctively, her lips parted to admit his tongue. She felt it explore the soft folds inside her mouth, at first tentatively, then more boldly, tasting every part of her.
Closing her eyes, she gave up all pretense at restraint. She leaned into him, and he responded eagerly, gathering her to him with a hold that was light but firm as steel. As he did, a low moan rose from his throat, and she became aware that his hands, splayed across her back, had begun to tremble slightly.
Dreamily, she opened her eyes, and looked straight into a nightmare.
For Kal-El’s own eyes were also open, and they were as red as hot embers.
Too frightened to scream, she pushed away from him, and Kal-El's arms opened at once to release her. A single thought reverberated in her shocked brain: Kal-El had burning eyes, just as the stories had claimed. Eyes that could make any number of harem girls vanish--herself included.
Jumping to her feet, she began to run blindly, neither knowing or caring where she went, as long as she escaped the terror behind her. Faintly, she heard Kal-El call her name.
She’d reached a small flight of steps when her foot jammed against something hard. Crying out in panic, she fell head-first toward the steps, and the last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was the feel of strong arms around her waist.
Read the next chapter here.