Her dress was red. It was lined with gold trimming and provided a teasingly low neckline. If he squinted, he could make out the faint swell of her breasts.
Eugenides couldn't breathe.
It wasn't often that the queen smiled. But when she did, oh gods, it was beautiful. He stepped toward her. Her mouth twitched upwards. She held her arms out to him.
"Come, Eugenides. Come."
Hearing his queen beckon him, the half-boy half-man willed his feet to move faster. It felt so surreal (unreal) to have her enveloped into his arms. A strong wave of incense titillated his senses. It reminded him of the kinds of incense he burned for his gods.
She knew this.
A month after their marriage, she took delight in the scent more than she ever had with even her most expensive perfumes. It irritated her to know that whenever Eugenides caught a whiff he had the sheer audacity to look embarrassed in her presence.
But sometimes, she would see a flit of an appreciative smile and her anger would quickly subside.
It would flare back ten-fold when she discovered Eugenides-the foolish little twit-would practice his infamous thieving skills on Nahuseresh's spies again. (Did the Mede ambassador take Attolia for fools?)
The fact she tolerated his gods sent a slight shiver down his spine.
He loved this woman.
He adored this she-demon.
This bewitching(but deadly, oh so deadly) siren.
This decapitator of hands.
This (his) Shadow-Queen.
Forever more.
He buried his face into her free-flowing hair. It was dark and Eugenides found himself wondering if he would ever mind if the sun went out and they were trapped in a thick blanket of the blackest of nights.
Not if it was like this.
He pulled back and clasped his hands with hers. (Why did he have two hands? That wasn't right. He would have to investigate later. But it didn't matter right now because he was with his queen and that's all that mattered.)
"Oh, Irene… I lo-"
He jolted with a start.
A familiar face hovered into view.
Though it wasn't the one he wanted.
He recognized the man as one of the many physicians who took residence in the castle.
"You all right, boy? You've been sleeping for an awful long time."
Eugenides made an annoyed sound.
"I'm your king, don't address me like that."
The physician grinned roguishly. It reminded Eugenides of a certain meddlesome goddess in a story…
"I'll take that as a yes."
The king of Attolia refused to even dignify that with a remark. He lazily picked at his bed sheets.
They were wrinkled.
"Stop sulking."
The younger man's head snapped up.
"I am not sulking." The thief snarled defiantly.
"Kid, just because you married the most beautiful woman in the land, doesn't mean you get any special treatment."
He paused.
"…though I'd have to commend you for such a difficult conquest."
Eugenides took an angry swing at the physician. The man ducked effortlessly.
"Sir, your specialty is thievery. Not fighting."
To no avail, Eugenides tried to dissipate that annoying heat creeping up his neck.
The king tried to regain what was left of his composure.
How dare he!
If the peasants only knew how much their precious royal court was corrupted with such perversion…
Eugenides never expected his dear cousin, Eddis to greet him the morning after his wedding night with a sly, "So did you have fun last night, Gen?"
How his fellow Eddisian brothers slapped him on the back and congratulated him on a "job well done!"
He swore, if one more person brought up that night-well. They were in for a world of hurt.
"Out. Now!"
This time, the man grudgingly obliged but not without throwing a dark chuckle at Eugenides from the door. A moment later, he made a startled sound. Eugenides was curious, but not enough so that he would move his sluggish limbs out of his bed so shortly after waking from sleep.
Having his sole companion gone, Eugenides took the time to ponder his dream. It was not an unusual occurrence to have a dream about the queen of Attolia. He recalled the nightmares of years past.
He absently looked at his hook.
This particular dream, though, was the exact opposite of a nightmare. It made him…happy.
He had never experienced such euphoria. Or maybe he had. Eugenides back-tracked to all those memories he had shared with Attolia.
Not when he had proposed.
Not when they were married.
Not even when the two of them foiled Nahuseresh's scheme. Close to, but not quite.
A dignified scoff startled him from assessing any further musings.
"Wipe that disgusting grin off your face."
If Attolia felt compelled to ask him why, she did not show it. Her enticing features were set into a stone-like, expressionless face.
Just the way he liked it.
With a jovial shake of his head, he pushed himself off the bed. The thought of a day filled with harassing and/or teasing his stolid wife renewed his body with newfound vigor.
He laughed. "Irene!"
With a sense of foreboding, the queen took a few steps back.
"Eugenides." She acknowledged quietly.
He had no time to dawdle in the past. Not with more important things to attend to such as pestering Irene.
And he rose to do just that.
"Who am I, that you should love me?"
"You are My Queen," said Eugenides. She sat perfectly still, looking at him without moving as his words dropped like water into dry earth.
"Do you believe me?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"I love you."
And she believed him.