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The effect was disarming, giving a strange softness to his menace.
The prince bowed stiffly, standing further back than the others and making no effort toward physical contact. “Their Majesties send their condolences,” he said, in a voice like smoke and mead.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” said the archon. “And how fares your father? Please tell him that all Mestibes prays for his swift recovery.”
“He bears his burden with strength. As he has done for all of these last five years.”
“Well, I am glad to hear that. Now, you will stay for the feast, won’t you? I would love to hear any recollections you have of my dear—”
Prince Calix raised his hand abruptly. “I cannot.”
The air chilled. For the first time since Aurelius joined the conversation, his mother appeared surprised. All the other dignitaries had accepted the invitation. Even Aurelius, no adherent to protocol, knew it was the deepest offense to refuse.
“Yes,” said Calix, without any hint of remorse. “The tides withdraw, and I have already stayed longer than I intended.”
“Yes, yes of course,” said the archon, regathering. “May Ondo grant you safe passage on the voyage, and may Ardor welcome you back into her embrace.”
The prince gave a final, slight bow and turned to leave.
And then Calix’s honeyed eyes caught his own. It was just for a moment, no more than a glance, but it seemed to last for an eternity.
At once, Aurelius’s body roared. Heat crawled across his flesh. A sense of urgent lust, more immediate than any he’d ever felt, flooded through him. It was otherworldly. Like his skin wasn’t his own. Like the prince had possessed it. Like the prince could do whatever he fucking wanted with it! Right here! Right now! In front of everyone!
Now!
As quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished.
Aurelius reeled, adjusting his tunic over his suddenly hard groin. He turned with a snap to the departing figure, who walked with renewed purpose through the crowd.
When he was halfway gone, Prince Calix shot a quick glance over his shoulder.
His expression chilled Aurelius to the bone. It was the sort of look he’d never expected to see on such a big, strong soldier.
Terror. Absolute, petrified terror.
What in Dimethan was that!? he thought once the prince had finally vanished from view.
“Well, that doesn’t bode well,” said Beni. “He’s probably still mad about Sama, Mummy. And insulted that you saw him last.”
“There are rules for these things, boy,” said Grandmother Varena. “Those who arrive first are greeted first. And those who sail in an hour before the ceremony are seen when they are seen.”
“He was traveling from the far north of the country, Granny. And besides, two-to-one odds are that his old man snuffs it before the year’s out. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long since the Rinathi’s assassination attempt. Then, that prince will be the next king of Ardora. Responsible for over half of our food and wine, two-thirds of our horses, and almost all of our timbe—”
“Precedent cares not for expediency!” snapped his grandmother.
Beni was about to respond when the archon interjected. “A conversation for a more discreet location, perhaps? Now get off to the feast. Tell your father I will be along soon.”
They both bowed, shooting daggers at each other. After a discreet pause, Aurelius made to follow them.
“Aurelius,” said the archon.
He froze, a strange feeling running through him. It was the first time he had heard the woman say his name in six years.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, forcing down the sickening sensation of childhood subservience.
“Come to the palace tomorrow morning. I have something I wish to discuss.”
Aurelius grinned internally and gave the deepest bow he could manage. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
