She stands brown and naked in the sun. My heart catches, and the blood rushes to my skin. I resist the urge to sprint to her and grab her. No, then she will have won, and we both will have lost. She knows the power the sight of her has on me. Her erect nipples, the smooth curve of her hips, all lead my eyes to the thatch of dark hair between her two silky thighs. She is seduction pulling me slowly toward her. I meet her stare of mild derision. She beckons me. I move to her but do not acquiesce, not yet. That would be too easy. Nadia never likes it easy. My fingertips reach forward and gently graze the smooth skin of her neck. I lean in and kiss her softly. Gentle pressure, now here, now there, her neck, her finely crafted collarbone. Her nipple enters my mouth. She breaks away, then grabs me fiercely. We devour each other with mouths, eyes, and hands. We hug the contours of each other’s bodies. She sighs as my mouth tastes her inner thighs, then moves closer to her center . . .
We lie entangled in each other’s limbs just as we did on that day three years ago after the first time. The afternoon sun warms us, and sweat glistens on our bodies. I feel myself drifting into blissful slumber.
“We won’t be able to do that again for a while, love,” she whispers.
I pull myself from the brink of oblivion and prop myself on an elbow. “Are you hurt?”
She looks away, laughing, with a secret joke in her head.
“What?” I insist.
“Nothing, Little Lord,” she teases.
I grab her. “Well, I know it isn’t nothing!”
I kiss her in all the spots that I know torture her with pleasure. “Tell me,” I growl. She yelps and pushes me away. “Tell me!” I admonish again.
“It’s your birthday gift, my lord,” she says.
“I thought you just gave me my gift,” I say slyly.
“Oh, no. Not that.” Her sentence hangs in the air. The sound of the waves crashing and the summer breeze keeps it suspended. “I am with child,” she says quietly.
Everything drops to the ground. I’m numb. I’m terrified. I’m speechless. My heart pounds. I’m overjoyed. It can’t be true. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen? What of my father? He can’t know.
“Hey!” She pulls my face back toward her. She looks me in the eye, and I realize it’s going to be all right. Nothing matters but her and me. Not the island, not Phaestion, nor my father, nor my mother’s condition. None of it. Your life, all life, will end, the leviathan once told me. It does not matter. Me and her and a child, whether we live another five hundred years or another five minutes, now is all we have.
“Nadia, I will never leave you,” I whisper. She buries her head in my chest, and I know she feels safe. We lie that way forever.
Forever doesn’t last.
I’m awoken by the sound of ships. A fleet of black sondis sails on the clouds.
Nadia and I enter the manse. Many are already gathered for the Eventide festivities, but there are only a few moments to prepare. “Ready the room to receive guests,” I command. We set up a chair as a makeshift throne at the top of the foyer staircase. “My mother will be on the right, Nadia beside me on the left,” I direct.
These are not servants; they are simply friends, but there is no time for familiarity. I refuse to meet the interlopers with any sign of weakness.
“Gorham?” I call out. The old musician pads alongside me as the party scrambles to construct a welcome.
“At least twenty sondis bearing the crest of the leviathan have landed. They have docked, and soldiers have disembarked. We have word they’re coming through the town, making their way here. Spread the message that all townspeople are to stay inside with the doors shut. They are not to engage the invaders until they have been received by me. Send envoy to the soldiers. Make sure they arrive here for parlay.” I gently grip the old man’s shoulder. He nods and is off.
This is all happening too fast.
The chair is set, and my mother is brought beside me. I take my seat and reach my hand to hers. Her vacant stare doesn’t register the touch, but the contact isn’t for her. It’s for me. My remembrance of the woman she was gives me strength.
“Are you ready?” Nadia asks me as she stands proudly at my side.
“I’ll have to be,” I mutter.
The double doors of the manse open. Gorham steps forward. “Lord Edric Leontes of House Wusong-Leontes, two-time champion of the Combat.” He bows and steps out of the way barely in time to avoid being hit by my father coming through. He’s still tall and powerful, his pale hair now mostly silver. He strides forward, looking like a god in his flowing robes and armor. Off his left shoulder is Alberich, stout and grizzled as always. On his right is Edgaard, now at fourteen almost as tall as my father, though still lean and angular from boyhood. There’s no doubt, seeing them side by side, that this is his true son and heir.
My eyes connect with my brother’s for a moment. His sky-blue irises were once warm and full of wonder. Now I sense nothing, neither love nor hate. Alberich, too, holds no sign of acknowledgment. It appears I have no friends in this company. Behind them, soldiers wearing the blue and silver of House Leontes file in.
“You think to greet me as lord of the isle, do you?” Edric snarls.
I stand. “I greet you merely as I am, nothing more.”
“Edmon”—his tone is soft, deadly—“it’s time for this to end. You will return to House Wusong-Leontes to fulfill your duties. My governorship will be reestablished here on the isle.”
“I will not leave my people,” I say flatly. Edric never cared for nuance or pleasantry anyway.
I see the wave of anger pass across his face, but then, curiously, he bottles it.
He must have expected that I wouldn’t acquiesce.
Edgaard and Alberich shift uncomfortably at the confrontation. They know how to fight in an arena, but they have no stomach for the war of words that is politics.
“The responsibilities are not yours,” Edric says tightly. “They’re mine.”
“These are not your people,” I answer without hesitation. “They were my mother’s.” I gesture to the lifeless form in her chair, anger in my voice. “Now they’re mine. They need no governance from you.”
Does he want a weakling son, or a son that will stand and face him? Aren’t you proud, Father?
“Then they shall have none. That doesn’t change the fact that you will be leaving this day.”
“Shipped off to another noble house to be their training dummy while my mother is mutilated?” I ask, fists clenched.
Edgaard can no longer stand it. He steps forward, red-faced. “You’re lucky you weren’t imprisoned for shaming the honor our father bestowed on you!”
Edric raises his hand, signaling for his younger son to remain quiet.
Edgaard, he has twisted you far worse than he has me.
“No, Edmon,” Edric says calmly. “You won’t be returning to the comforts of House Julii.”
I snort at the mention of the comforts of my former imprisonment.