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She was alive.
She was alive!
Teigra threw her arms around him and laid a big kiss on his lips. “Thank you! Praise Ardor, thank you!” she sobbed.
The crowd cheered and all the blurry, well-dressed people clapped in relief.
All of them, but one.
From the back row, panting and gripping a torn tunic, his face twisted in anger, stood Aurelius.
52
AURELIUS
The docks bustled—burly men heaving huge clay amphorae, birch-wielding old women whipping braying goats into pens. All the clangs and clacks of a morning bay front, hard at work.
To Aurelius, every sound was like rapturous applause, all for him. Because he’d done it. It had taken him far longer than he had thought, but he’d finally won Calix over.
Oh, Teigra throwing herself into the water for attention hadn’t been part of his plan, and it had dragged the prince away just when they had been about to seal the deal. But he wasn’t concerned. There would be plenty of time for that.
Because now, he was Calix’s confidant—perhaps the only person in Dynosia that knew his wicked secret.
Aurelius could already hear the outpouring of pent-up emotion which would soon follow, feel the giddying closeness of finally having someone to speak to. He’d seen it all before, with countless “happily” married men. Once that seal was broken, all indecision melted away, as their life reoriented around the one person who truly understood them.
Soon the prince would be a puppy at his heels. Securing the military agreement would be a matter of moments. And then, he’d have done it. After six long years, he was just weeks away from being reinstated as the anointed success of the archon, in a context where even the senate couldn’t deny him his birthright. How could they? He was about to be beloved and powerful—the man who’d single-handedly saved Mestibes from invasion.
And as he strode through the streets, Aurelius couldn’t help but dwell on the taste of the prince.
He wasn’t the sort of man he normally pursued—so big, so quiet, so mysterious. Of course, it was all just a means to an end. And yet, the heat of his mouth lingered. The fire across his skin. The unbelievable power of the beast.
And that was just from a kiss. Aurelius shuddered at what would surely come, wondering how anyone could think it a negative to be a satyr.
When he arrived back at the embassy, a dozen young women were waiting outside, craning their necks—their voices all overlapping.
“Are you sure this is it?”
“Definitely! This is the Mestibian embassy. She has to be in there.”
“Oh, I hope she’s alright!”
“Did you hear how she challenged Zosime?”
“I didn’t think Mestibian women had that sort of spunk.”
“Well, I heard that Calix dived from the top of a cliff just to save her!”
“Really? I didn’t know he had it in him!”
“Oh, it’s all so romantic!”
“Look! Look! The curtain moved! Lady? Laaady? Are you alright?”
Aurelius suppressed a laugh. Why did women always try to project some great romantic fantasy onto banal things? Thinking that Calix might be interested in Teigra?
Teigra?
The poor confused things.
