I hear nothing from him for a few days until, on a warm quiet evening, a eunuch approaches me to say that Emilio is asking to meet with me again.

The watchers of the women's quarters have clearly adopted my attitude to their new subject, ignoring most of his complaints and taking their time in acting on his requests. Apparently, his annoyance has by now reached high enough a level for them to finally address it.

"Bring him in," I say, "and tell the servants to bring some wine, too."

He bows and backs out of the room, leaving me alone. I lean on the back of the window seat and return my gaze to the sunset dying over the sea, wondering if more complaints await me, or perhaps an offer of a capitulation.

I've been thinking about Emilio now and then during my busy days, wondering how he was doing, but I have judged that leaving him to stew would be the best course of action. Now I'm going to see the results, and whatever they are, they're sure to at least provide some entertainment.

Minutes later, Emilio is ushered into the room. He steps over the threshold and pauses as the door closes behind him.

He's dressed in one of the tunics the eunuchs have provided him with, this one dark blue with golden ornaments. He wears it rather gracefully, unlike those actors who play women on stage, who usually just look ridiculous. Perhaps having to dress like this all the time, as well as being surrounded by women, is having its effect on him.

"Good evening," he says, and adds after a pause, "my King."

Good start. I swing both feet to the floor and see upright to have a better view of him.

"Come here," I say. "Don't be shy."

He takes a few steps, looking around. His eyes slide over the golden wall hangings and the tapestries before pausing on the one depicting a hunting scene. This one has come from Lotinen after our previous raid there, when my father was still alive. I wonder if it's love of hunting or the memories of home that bring his attention to it.

"Like what you see?"

He shrugs. "You have a beautiful room. A very rich palace." He's surprisingly polite today. "With everything that you've stolen from your neighbors, you could have afforded to build it from pure gold." Or maybe he's not.

"Anything else you wanted to say, apart from your ideas for redecorating the place?"

He walks around the room, running his hand on the tapestries. He's lost some weight since I have first met him. Having been deprived of whatever physical activities he used to engage in at home, he now looks more fragile than before. His slender neck and what little the tunic reveals of his shoulders display no prominent bulges of muscles. His skin, now that he's spending all his days inside, looks smooth and clear, making me want to press my lips and suck on it to leave a bruise.

"I wanted to apologize." He stops a few steps away and looks at me. "I have been rude to you from the start. I'm sure you can understand how I felt. This all—" He gestures around to indicate, it seems, the room, the palace, the island and the blue tunic he's wearing, "—has been very unexpected."

I tilt my head to indicate that I'm listening.

"Yet you have promised to not force me into anything, and so far, you've been true to it," he continues. "I appreciate that."

So far, this doesn't sound like a capitulation. Slightly disappointed, I lean back against the window, wondering where's the servant with my wine.

"I never wanted to be here," says Emilio. "Yet since I am, perhaps I should make the best of it."

"Words of wisdom," I mutter.

"I'm thinking," he says slowly, pretending to be suddenly struck by an idea, although it's clear he's rehearsed the whole speech in advance, "perhaps I could be of use to you not as a lover but as…something else. I could be an adviser, a general--"

"No," I said flatly. "Little experience that you have, there's nothing you can advise me on. And you're too pretty to be a general. Your soldiers will want to fuck you rather than follow you." He winces at that. "Also," I add getting up, "that's not what I brought you here for."

I come closer, raise my hand and run my fingers up his neck and along his jaw. His skin feels smooth under my rough fingertips. I can tell he's holding himself to not flinch away from my touch.

"You promised," he says.

"I remember." I remove my hand and return to the window. The sky is almost black now, save for the area that's slowly getting illuminated by the rising moon. The room is lit unevenly by the candles burning in the candelabras.

"This harem, you see," he says behind my back. "I can’t live with them. They hate me. They keep looking and giggling and whispering between them, and when I try to make conversation, they avoid me."

"They're not supposed to talk to men."

"Men aren’t supposed to live among them! Can’t you find a single room in your palace that I could occupy alone?"

"Narin has received a room of her own." I nod at the door leading to the Favorite's room, where Narin currently resides with all her revealing dresses and interesting pillows.

"Yeah," he says. "I saw what she had to do for that."

"You saw that she enjoyed it, too."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"Can’t I at least leave the women's quarters every now and then? To walk around the palace, or go to the harbor, or for a ride? I used to ride every day back home. I saw you have a big stable."

"My wives don't ride horses. I don't want them to fall off and damage themselves."

He draws a deep, exasperated breath.

"Please," he says. "Stop talking about me like that. You know as well as I do that I'm nothing like them."

"You are, it's just that you haven't accepted it yet," I say, and then comes a knock on the door.

A servant walks in, carrying a trey with a flagon and a goblet on it. His head bowed, he pours me some wine.

"Pour him some, too," I say, pointing to another goblet that lays overturned on the table, forgotten after my supper. The servant obeys, never looking up. He hands it to Emilio, who glances into it with distaste.

"I don’t even deserve a clean silverware, I understand," he says.

"The wine is good, though," I say. "Have you tasted our wines before? We never ship them abroad, just keep them for ourselves."

"The damn eunuchs only bring us water to drink."

"Oh right, I forgot." I grin. "Clear water from the Maravian Waterfalls. My wives aren’t allowed wine in their quarters."

"Let me guess, to prevent them from getting drunk and falling and hurting themselves?"

"From getting drunk and acting unwisely, more like. But they can drink in my company."

"I see. No wonder they seek it so eagerly."

Ignoring him, I bring the goblet to my lips.

"Wait," he says, and the change in his voice makes me pause. He's still peering into his goblet, the little crease between his eyebrows deepening.

"Don't drink that," he says. "It looks…weird."

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