Princess Adella

Adella steps into her room and takes it in with approval. It is spacious and comfortable, and one window looks out onto the sea. Shasta steps into the room and asks, “Is everything to your liking?”

“Oh, it looks most comfortable. I’m sure this will be just fine.”

“And is everything to your liking?” she asks again, this time referring to the two men who are standing attentively to the side.”

Adella looks at them, with hesitation, unsure of what to say.

“If they are not to your liking, we have many others from which you can choose. We did not know your preference, so I took the liberty of selecting a couple of my favorites. I can personally vouch for their capabilities.”

“Their capabilities?” asks Adella. “Capabilities in what?” She feels her cheeks growing warm.

“Capabilities in the limited things men are capable of,” laughs Shasta. “I’m sure things are not so different between our lands that we do not see the truth in that!”

She walks toward the men, who continue to stand patiently, with their hands clasped behind their backs. She puts her hand on the shoulders of the nearest man and looks upon him admiringly. He looks to be about 25 years of age. He has a fine, short stubble of about 2 days’ growth on his face, and his cream-colored tunic shows off his tanned, muscular frame. “You are fortunate I was able to get Franco for you. Not only is he a favorite of mine, but of my sister and mother, as well. And yet despite all the demands we put upon him, he and his wife are expecting their first child in a couple of months! You’re quite the stud, aren’t you?” The last sentence she directs at the young man and reaches down and grabs his ass as she does.

Adella’s face grows ever warmer. “He is your — lover?”

“Oh, nothing so permanent or meaningful as that,” says Shasta. “But he does keep many a night from being cold or lonely. And Cedric here is no novice, either,” she says, running her palm appreciatively over his exposed thigh.

“And they are married?”

“Only Franco. Cedric may yet catch some noble woman’s eye. In the meantime, he certainly does make a room sparkle, doesn’t he?”

Adella’s head is spinning. “And Franco’s wife knows about this? And he has a child on the way and does ... this?”

Shasta looks at Adella, perplexed. “Why of course his wife knows! She is the one who gives permission for him to work outside of the home. Who else would we consult? It’s not as if Franco has any say in the matter!” She laughs at the thought. “Honestly, you act as if this is all alien to you. You do not have royal concubines in Mirantia?”

“Indeed we do not,” thinks Adella, but she stops to think. It has not been that long since such a practice existed, although it was women who were viewed as having no value aside from what pleasure their bodies could provide. Her grandfather abolished the practice, but although concubines did not formally exist in her land, in truth, the men of power still treated women in much the same way. She thought of the many conversations at the dinner table where she had to sit quietly, biting her tongue, as her brothers discussed their latest sexual conquests, compared notes on women they have each bedded, and openly talked about the servant girls in their presence, evaluating their bodies and wondering how they would satisfy the latest sexual urge. A part of Adella rejoiced at this tipping of the scales.

“It is ... somewhat different,” she finally said. “But I understand the concept.”

“Well, I shall leave you now to relax,” says Shasta. “If you tire of these lads, just dismiss them. I shall return to escort you to dinner.”

With that, the princess departs, leaving Adella looking uncertainly at the two men.

“How can we serve you, Ma’am?” asks Cedric. “Would you care for us to draw you a bath? Perhaps a massage? Something to help you unwind from your journey?”