Song of Edmon (Fracture World #1)

“Yeah,” I mutter. His physical beauty is only part of it. There’s something else, something chemical. “His beauty isn’t natural,” I say. “Not like yours.” My voice cracks again. I’m such an idiot. “He’s like a god. You’re—”

She puts her finger against my lips to shush me. “Please don’t keep spoiling this moment by saying something stupid.” She smiles and leans in close. “Just do it like you did before.”

We kiss again.

“How was that?” My voice is hoarse.

We kiss, and we kiss, and we kiss. We kneel down to the earth. I lose my balance. I fall on my butt like a lout. She laughs again. “Always so awkward. Little Lord, I’m going to have to save you from falling again.”

“I remember.” I pull her to me. We wrestle like we did when we were young. Now I roll on top, pinning her. “I remember you always used to beat me at this.”

Then I feel her hand close around my hardness. I gasp. Our eyes lock. Neither of us breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” she says, stammering now. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head no. My pulse quickens. I want to run, but I don’t.

The other Companions had concubines to experiment with. Now I wish I hadn’t refused. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like a colossal lump, not knowing what to do.

She gently slides a hand to the strap of her dress. She pulls it from her shoulder. Her naked breasts are bare in the sunlight like full, newly ripened fruit.

“You can close your mouth, idiot,” she says mildly.

I clap my jaw shut, not realizing it was open. I try to swallow, and my throat feels so tight. The blood pounds in my neck.

“Your turn.”

My mind is no longer working. I pull my shirt over my head, following her lead. The sun blazes against my bare skin for the first time in years. Nadia’s eyes run along the lines of my torso. She kneels down and gently pulls my leggings to my ankles. I almost trip again trying to step out of them. My hand goes to her smooth shoulder for support.

“So clumsy.” She chuckles. She sucks in her breath as she stares.

Her touch, when she holds me, is slow. I feel a tightening in my belly. I kneel down. I brush a lock of hair from her dark eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat,” she says, her hands still on me. I kiss her hard. She pulls me into her, and as we roll on the white earth, entangled in each other, my hand closes around the softness of a breast. Our bodies create a drumbeat, and I feel the vibration of the strings of the universe, the song of life pulsing through us both. Waves crash between us for what seems forever and an instant all at once. All that’s left is me breathing on the ground staring at the sky. In the distance, a siren calls for her mate.

I lock eyes with hers. “What did you do to me?” I whisper.

“Same thing you did to me.” Her head rests in the crook of my neck, and her dark eyes look up to me. “You saved me.”

I lean down and kiss her. My eyes close in the warm bliss of the summer isle sun. This contentment feels so rare.



I don’t know how much time has passed when my eyes open. A moment? Eternity?

It’s a rustling behind me that’s woken me, the sound of a few skittered pebbles. Nadia, still deep in slumber, does not stir. I see a flash of red-copper hair behind the rocks.

“Phaestion?” I stand. “Phaestion?” I ask again.

He bursts from behind the boulder and sprints away so fast. I take a step after him, but he’s gone. I can see the red hair trailing behind him like the lick of a flame. He rounds a bend out of my sight.

“What is it?” Nadia asks. She pushes herself up to sitting.

“Nothing.” I return to her side. “Go back to sleep, love.” The words sound new and strange on my lips, but she doesn’t notice. I lie beside her, and she drifts off once again. My eyes do not close this time. A few moments pass, and I hear the blast of the sondi. The large black airship looms over us. I feel more than see a pair of cold gray eyes staring out from a porthole. The ship makes a soft bank away from the island, sailing into the sky over the Southern Sea.





CHAPTER 14


TRIO

The morning of my eighteenth birthday begins the same as every other has in the last three years. I wake up, arm stretched out over Nadia’s belly. My bleared vision comes into focus. Her dark eyes are already open, looking at me with playful derision.

“Happy birthday, Little Lord,” she whispers. She presses her lips to mine. Very slightly, only very slightly. I want more. I grab her and pull her close for something deeper.

She pushes me off. “No!” she squeals playfully. “You need to sanitize first!” I grab her more tightly. Then I breathe the hottest, most foul-smelling breath of morning I can into her face. She struggles to turn away. “No, Little Lord! No!”

She slaps me gently across the cheek. I grab her wrist and kiss it softly. I pull her arm around my neck. Our legs intertwine. I feel myself rising to meet the softness of her body. Now she’s the one grabbing me closer. We kiss and touch and caress. Her body is as familiar to me now as the blanket I was born in. My hips rise to enter her . . .

“Wait,” she breathes.

The blast of a seashell horn sounds—the call to the boats. I groan as if in pain, rolling over onto my stomach. My head and arms hang off the edge of the bed.

“It’s your birthday. They’ll understand,” she says softly.

“I have to go.” I sit up. “With the embargo, we barely survive. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed others to work in my stead? We already live on top of the hill. I can’t let myself be any different from any of them.”

“But you are different,” insists Nadia. “You’re the one that will suffer if this independence from your father fails.”

“That’s why I need to go.” I stand and call for the drawers. They pop out of the walls, and I quickly dress in the linens and large-brimmed hat of the islanders. She sits up, sweeping the sheets around her. She should get up, too. Everyone must work. That’s the way of it, as much as I understand the desire to rest at least for a day.

“Meet me at the cliffs after you’ve held court?” she asks with a sultry gaze.

“And miss the afternoon nap?” I yawn and stretch, half teasing. Of course the sleep would be nice before the Eventide feast, but if anything is going to make me skip a few minutes of valuable sleep, it’s the chance to be alone with her.

“I have something special to give you for your birthday,” she says in a silky tone.

“Oh, do you?” I sweep her into my arms. The second sound of the seashell rings. “After court. I will see you then.”



Work on the sea isn’t easy. The sun beats down as we check our traps and our nets for hours. Today’s haul isn’t large, but with rationing, a day’s or even several weeks’ bad take should be manageable. The pod captain calls, “Pull!” We work the lines at his expert direction.

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