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The prince lay his head in his hands, before finally coming up for air. “You are cousins with the herald. You must surely know that he has... that I am...”
“Gay?” whispered Teigra, with what she hoped was a comforting smile. “And that you suffer from ashen passion as well, if we are laying all the truths out. I assume that is why you started withdrawing from society? Some lingering pain from battle?”
The prince stared hard at her, as if expecting her to add something else.
When nothing was forthcoming, he nodded. “Yes. That. Although I don’t think the term your cousin uses to describe his inclinations would fit me so well. I have been with my share of women, and found it perfectly enjoyable. But it is only towards men that I feel any... there is attraction certainly that I still feel for women... but that spark of something deeper than just the physical just... it just never seems to...”
She found no joy in his suffering, despite whatever trickery was happening. Instead, she had the same urge which always overtook her in these moments—to push down her own pain and soothe the wounds of others.
To heal.
To help.
To be useful. Even if no one noticed or thanked her for it.
She took his unresisting arm, ceasing his stuttering explanation, and led him out to the cooler air of the balcony.
As they left, dozens of other couples watched them intently, just as they had been all evening. It was just like the crowd of women who’d gathered at the embassy the morning after Calix had saved her. And every day since, growing in size and voice.
Then, something clicked.
“Your Highness,” she said, slowly, “have I told you I’m a lover of stories?”
“No?”
“Well, I’d like to tell you one now. It’s a new one. But I would love to hear your thoughts.”
He gave a confused look, then nodded.
She put on a bright voice—summoned from her bedside on windy childhood nights. “Once upon a time, there was a prince called Calix. Not you, of course, this is someone else entirely. He was big and strong and had the hopes of the whole polity resting on his shoulders.”
“Handsome as well?” said the prince, sneaking a tiny smile.
“Oh yes! So handsome that when he attended a funeral in a foreign land, every single eligible maiden, and quite a few who weren’t, entirely forgot about the ceremony and spent the entire service talking about him.”
“Oh, Ardor! I... he didn’t cause that?”
“Shhh, Your Highness! You’re interrupting my story! Now, as this prince grew older, he started spending time in the company of men—big, strong soldiers, just like himself. And he enjoyed it. Oh, he enjoyed the company of young women as well, and even broke a few hearts as he roamed the lands. But all the while, something was missing. Something indescribable. The flesh felt right. But the heart? Something just didn’t feel as good as it should’ve.”
Tension built in Calix’s thick arm.
“Until, finally, circumstance came for him: perhaps one night when the drink was flowing and the “joking” with a close comrade went too far. When neither of them stopped the other. And suddenly, nothing had ever felt more right. All the words in the poems, all the feelings that had been missing for so long? Stomach twisting, heart fluttering, fire across the skin? All of it came at once! Not over a woman, but a man.”
Calix’s blush burned as red as his cloak.
It was unfair that she should know such things.
It was Aurelius’s experiences she was borrowing, after all.
Her cousin had figured out his attractions at just twelve years old, and she could still recall the day he’d admitted his feelings about Nihal. It had been summer then, too, standing in the hot stables on a busy race day. He’d been so nervous, that gangly little kid, not yet grown into his slight features.
And how, just as he’d whispered those fateful words of admission, Teigra’s father had walked in, obviously overhearing everything.
And as Aurelius’s face had washed with a terror she’d never seen on him before—her father had dropped the saddle, thrown his big arms around Aurelius’s tiny chest, and said: my darling nephew, you are loved, you will always be loved, this changes nothing!
“Have I upset you?” said Calix.
“No,” she said with a warm smile, blinking back the tears. “Well, this realization sent a shiver through the prince. It couldn’t be! He was to be king one day. Of the land of fertility and passion no less. Where the love between men and women was more celebrated than anything else. He couldn’t be in love with a man! It would ruin his family. Disgrace his kingdom! And so, what did he do? He buried it. He buried himself. And not just his passion for love, but all of it, his passion for life, his passion for living. He blamed it on war. He fell to the ashen passion. And all the while he hoped that no one would realize the true reason.”
