"Good morning, princess." Sinbad approached Thalia and her maid, leaning casually on their table. "I hope you slept well."
Sappho frowned. "Do we know you, Sir?"
Sinbad grinned, always ready to give an introduction. He was known throughout the world, and few hadn't heard of his exploits. The look of awe upon people's faces when they realized he was a celebrity never ceased to boost his ego.
"Sinbad!" Thalia stood up abruptly, nearly knocking her drink over. "My friend… he's my friend, Sappho."
Sappho leaned forward. "I won't ask why you've waited until now to acknowledge each other. Do sit down."
He nodded, relieved not to have to provide an explanation for his previous aloofness. After seeing the extent of the agony Thalia was going through— and to think that Ja'far had tried to warn him multiple times— he felt horrible for how he'd treated her. He never seemed to make the right decisions when it came to her. Somehow, she'd always forgiven him in the past. He hoped this time would be the same.
He settled himself across from Thalia as Ja'far joined them. As she sat back down, she gave a tight, shy smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It vanished almost as quickly appeared.
"You're talking again." Ja'far raised an eyebrow. "Unless…" He glanced at Thalia, and Sappho sighed.
"The Princess feels it would tarnish her reputation to speak casually with men without the supervision of her fiance." She wrinkled her nose as she spoke.
Thalia nodded silently, hunching her shoulders as she stared into her lap.
"Is that so?" Sinbad frowned, taking in the fine clothes the man in question had showered her with. Perhaps Sinbad had taken her for granted. It wasn't like he couldn't have afforded to spoil her more often. But then again, the expensive gifts didn't seem to make her any happier, and neither did the fiance.
If he was going to dismantle her destiny, the first step was to win her back and convince her to end the engagement, a task that became decidedly more complicated if she refused to interact with him directly. She had talked to him last night, but he wasn't sure if he could count on another midnight breakdown to lower her defenses.
Sappho pulled out the box of fabric scraps and smiled. "If you can just pick out a fabric today, everything else will be settled. You won't have to think about it again this whole trip."
Taking a deep breath, Thalia laid the scraps out in front of her one by one— silks, linens, satins. Again, she stared at them anxiously, refusing to pick one.
Hoping to avoid a repeat of yesterday, Sinbad reached out and picked up the plainest one, holding it out to her. "You'll look beautiful in anything, Thalia." When she lifted her hand to grab it, he tightened his grip, refusing to let it go. As she firmed her own grasp on the fabric, their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of warmth through him. His grip loosened, but she didn't move away. Instead, her eyes met his. When his stilted breath returned to him, he finished his thought. "If you ask me though, I stand by what I said in Heliohapt. Domesticity isn't in your nature. You're better off with someone who already understands that."
Her eyes averted themselves guiltily. She knew she was making the wrong decision, so why was she so desperate to go through with it? Could she not wait a few more years until she was ready to conquer a dungeon? Was someone threatening her? His first thought would have been the fiance, but Ja'far had said she changed after visiting the temple. He hadn't been around then.
What happened to you, Thalia?
He let the cloth go, and Thalia flattened it on the table. "I want this one."
Shrewd eyes fixed on Sinbad, Sappho asked, "This one?"
"Yes."
Sinbad lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as he waited for the sound of footsteps rushing past his door. Tonight, there was nothing. Thalia's state had seemed stable throughout the day, but he the image of her dangling over the rails of the ship wouldn't leave his head. She was safe. He knew that, but…
Lifting himself out of his bed, he put on his jacket and opened the door, making his way to the deck. The night air was refreshingly cool compared to his stuffy cabin, and he inhaled its briny scent, taking comfort in its familiarity. When he opened his eyes, he paused. There, underneath the moonless night sky, danced a lone woman. It was Thalia, clad in another one of those dresses her fiance had clearly given to her. Sheer, red fabric peeked out from under a rich purple and gold himation, which was wrapped around her upper body for modesty. She looked regal and untouchable, like a ripe pomegranate in some immortal's forbidden orchard.
Upon seeing him, she stopped and smiled, beckoning for him to come closer. Sinbad obeyed, his heart racing as ignored the alluring silhouette her shapely legs cast against the translucent garment.
"It's said that on a new moon, the earth is too dark for the goddess to see."
He raised an eyebrow. "And that means you can talk?"
Her cherry lips parted into a radiant smile that spoke to his basest of instincts. "It means I can misbehave."
He reached out for her to kiss her, but she bounded away, twirling around him in graceful circles. Her red skirt flared out like a splash of cool wine against his parched lips, drenching his tongue with its sweet tang. Her saw in her expression the ecstasy she felt abandoning herself to her dance, losing herself in the movement of her body. Then, mid turn, her eyes met his, and he realized that this dance wasn't for her. It was for him. She wanted him to watch. She was showing off for him, fanning out her feathers like a peacock. She knew she was delectable, and she was daring him to take a bite.
She ground to a halt in front of him, her chest heaving.
"So," she panted. "What do you think of my new dress?"
She looked for more attractive than a taken woman had any business being, but he always showered her with praise for her looks. He doubted she took his compliments seriously at this point, so he tried finding something else to admire.
"The color is nice. Did you pick it?"
She beamed, her breath finally steadying.
"I did. You know, I was thinking... you don't know how to dance, do you?"
"I don't."
Thalia anxiously chewed her lower lip, furrowing her eyebrows. "In that case, I was wondering if you wanted me to teach you…"
"You want to teach me how to dance." He leaned toward her with a hand to his chin, narrowing his eyes at her scrutinizingly. She responded by arching backward and averting her gaze, a healthy flush spreading across the apples of her cheeks. "And why would that be?"
He knew. He knew that if he reached out, he could pluck her from her tree and partake of her, consequences be damned. He didn't care if the Alexius family spent the rest of his life trying to destroy his business for robbing them of their shot at becoming royalty. Besides, she was only engaged. Engagements fell through all the time. It wasn't like she and her fiance loved each other anyway, so if he ended up stealing her away, there was no harm done.
"I- I just… I'm concerned for you as a friend," she stammered. "If the Parthevian nobility think you're low-born, then it'll hurt your networking opportunities."
She had almost managed to sound convincing, but he saw right through her. She needed excuses to be close to him. She wanted to be close to him.
"Since you're offering yourself to me, I can't possibly turn you down, can I?" He took a step toward her, sending her nervously stumbling backwards as the blood drained from her face.
"O— offering myself?"
He nodded slowly, fighting back an amused smile. "Offering yourself as a teacher. It's very noble of you."
"Ah! Yes!" She grinned at him naively, the fact that he was teasing her seemingly having gone over her head. "I'm happy to help."
"So," he said, taking her right hand and wrapping his arm around her waist. Pressing her body firmly against his, he asked her innocently, "This is how I hold you, right?"
"No, your arm should be up higher." She giggled nervously, moving to put some distance between them. He had no intention of letting her have her way. Pulling her back against him, He trailed his fingers lightly up her spine. She tried to conceal a quiet moan with a cough, and his lips twitched into a self-satisfied grin. He doubted she'd ever made that noise for her fiance.
"Higher," she instructed him, guiding his arm to where she wanted it. "And put some space between us, will you? You're going to step on my feet."
He leaned forward and whispered seductively in her ear, "I've dreamed of holding you like this for so long, Thalia. I can't pull away now."
The sweet sound of her quiet panting rose once again from her lips as her hands wandered up his back, pulling him closer. Even she couldn't pretend this was innocent dancing any longer.
"Don't do this to me, Sin."
He nuzzled the nape of her neck with his nose, blowing air out gently. "What is it, exactly, that I'm doing to you?"
He wanted to hear her say it. He wanted her to admit he drove her crazy, that her engagement was a mistake.
Her head dipped backwards, stretching her neck out to provide him with room for his kisses, which he sprinkled on her liberally. His darting tongue savored the salt of her drying sweat, which mingled with some kind of spiced perfume oil to create a heady, intoxicating scent.
"You know exactly what you're doing." She sighed happily. "You can't be with me the way you wanted, and now you're trying to sabotage my engagement."
"And if I am?" He shook his head. "I told you I'm done compromising, Thalia. I want you, and I know you want me too."
"I do," she confessed in a tremulous voice, "but, Sin, my people need a king—"
"They don't. Not more than we need each other."
Need was such a strong word, but right now, he burned with it. He needed her— needed to see her smile, hear her laughter. Without her, the days dragged on endlessly and his achievements felt empty.
"We weren't meant to be together…"
He raised his head to look her in the eye. "If you really believe that, tell me you don't want to be with me."
"This isn't about what I want." She turned her head, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
He sighed, reigning himself in. This should be enjoyable for both of them. Right now, they were each just frustrated. He planted one last, lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth.
"I won't push you any further then, but…" He tenderly stroked a carob hair out of her face. "I can't give up on you."
"You have to," she pleaded quietly. "You have to let me go. You're not my destiny."
He took a step back, studying her bleak expression. Something was bothering her. Thalia wasn't someone to follow destiny just because someone told her to.
"What happened in that temple, Thalia?"
She froze, her dark eyes wide. When she recovered, her face took on a placid quality.
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me." Wrapping her himation more tightly around her, she turned and cast him one last glance. "Good night, Sinbad."