The day of the founding ceremony

Knock knock knock.

Thalia groaned, burying her face deeper into a fluffy down pillow. It accepted her like an embrace, warm and comforting. The rest of the bed enveloped her too, a soft, silken cocoon of bliss. She didn't care who was at the door. She wasn't getting out of her new bed. She absolutely refused.

"Thalia, open up!" Dinarzade pounded on the door again. "Don't think just because you have your own room in the palace that you can start lazing around all day!"

Thalia opened one eye, observing the lack of sunlight outside her window. Why did she have to be up at this ungodly hour? "Go back to sleep! It's too early."

Muffled voices bled through the door, then the doorknob started to jiggle. Thalia propped herself up as the door swung open.

"What the hell? I'm supposed to have a guard."

"You do." Dinarzade strutted in, tossing the keys back to the man stationed at the door. "He let me in."

Of course. Dinarzade had always been particularly skilled at getting her way. Why should a highly disciplined warrior tasked with protecting Thalia from intruders be an exception to her charms?

"She could have been a murderer," Thalia reprimanded him as he bowed his way out.

"Don't blame him." Dinarzade adjusted her top, drawing attention to her daring neckline. "I can be very persuasive."

Thalia snorted. It wasn't like she'd never been tempted to stare at a pretty woman, but compromising her job over one? "That's it. I'm talking to Drakon about making sure only women guard me from now on."

"We'll see if that stops me." Shooting a playful wink over her shoulder, Dinarzade began rooting around in Thalia's wardrobe.

Today was the big day: the founding ceremony. Once Sinbad was crowned king, this island would leave its identity as Attica behind and become Sindria. The knowledge that Attica, the country she both loved and despised, was forever relegated to the history books brought a heaviness to her heart. These new citizens didn't know her culture or customs. They were strangers to the land, barbarian settlers. A way of life had been lost, and that deserved to be mourned.

But, today was a day of celebration. Thalia shoved her nostalgic thoughts aside, preferring to focus on the present, like the teal blue dress Dinarzade was holding up excitedly. Its asymmetrical neckline showed off her body in a way Attican standards would never have permitted.

Slowly, Thalia approached, stretching out her hand to touch the delicate fabric. It was certainly worthy of the king's mistress. Dinarzade had made sure of that, taking Thalia to one of the most famous tailors in Balbadd to have it custom made. For Sinbad's special day, she would tolerate no imperfection. After all, the ceremony was important to him, and he was important to her.

"He's going to be speechless," Dinarzade gushed as Thalia undressed. "He's going to look at you and be so overwhelmed with love—"

'Love.'

Sinbad obviously at least liked her as more than a friend. After all, he'd kept her around this long. As to whether or not he loved her though, she was less confident. He didn't do love, did he? He was the Lady Killer of the Seven Seas, and she wasn't more special than any other woman.

"Come on, Dinarzade. It's too soon to think he might feel that way. We're taking things slow."

"You've been 'secretly' dating for almost a year."

Thalia grimaced. The fact that her secret affair was basically common knowledge at this point was a major buzzkill. She raised her arms as Dinarzade slid the dress over her head.

"If he hasn't brought it up, you've got to find a way to tell him yourself." Helping Thalia tug the dress below her waist, she continued. "Life is short. One minute, you're fretting about whether your boyfriend loves you, the next you're looking back on your life thinking about all the people you should have told you love them..." Dinarzad's bright smile dimmed. "...and it's too late."

"Dina?" Thalia tilted her head. Though Dinarzad's smile had recovered, it no longer reached her eyes. Something was troubling her. Though Thalia had mishandled the situation last time Dinarzade had been upset, this time she intended to be a good friend and listen. "Did something happen?"

Slowly, Dinarzade blinked. Then, she broke into another wide smile. "Nope! I've just decided to start seizing the day. It'd be sad if you missed the chance to say what you need to, right?"

Thalia's eyebrows knitted together. "Yes, it would be tragic, but we're so young. We don't need to think about things like that, do we?"

Thalia had been barreling toward an early death, but she was no longer bound by that destiny, and surely Dinarzade would live a long, healthy life. She was a ray of sunlight in the darkness. How would Thalia go on without her?

Taking Dinarzade's hands, Thalia said, "You and I are going to grow old together. When we're eighty years old, you're going to come barreling into my room at the crack of dawn just like this. Only, in the future, you'll be asking me to help find your dentures."

Pressing her lips together, Dinarzade nodded. "You're probably right. And, even if something were to happen, I'd want to spend these last peaceful days smiling. So…" Dinarzade gestured to the mirror. "Let me do your make up one last time?"


Thalia shifted her weight anxiously outside Sinbad's door. It wasn't too late. She could still back out.

No. Dinarzade was right. She should tell him.

Holding her breath, she knocked timidly on the door with a shaking hand. She was terrified. She'd never confessed to anyone before. What if, when she told him how she felt, he just smiled at her sadly and told her he couldn't feel the same?

As the moments seemed to drag on, she began to reason her way out of this. There was no reason she needed to go through with this. Besides, he hadn't answered right away. Maybe he was still asleep. It would be rude to wake him up. Maybe—

"Come in."

Crap.

She popped her head in, a tight smile plastered across her face.

"How do you feel?"

He responded with a yawn while Thalia looked around the room. It was dim, lit only by the light of a single hastily lit lamp. The atmosphere struck her as similar to that of another room, at another time, with another man, one that was seared into her memory like a brand. She believed for a moment that inside, Lady Maader would be waiting to inform her of her dreaded fate. Anticipating danger, Her muscles tensed as she made her first tentative step onto the cold, marble floor.

Crossing the threshold was all it took to remind her of where she was. His pleasant, familiar scent filled the room, bringing her back to the present enough to push her unease to the back of her mind.

This is Sinbad's room, she scolded herself. She felt ashamed for conflating him with Marcus. They weren't the same. Sinbad wouldn't hurt her.

"Sin…"

"Yeah?"

"C-can we open the curtains?" she stammered weakly. "I don't like it."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"It reminds me of… you know."

That room had also been dark. The way his expression darkened told her he understood.

"Of course."

Thalia treaded over to the curtains, pulling them open and allowing the sunshine to chase away the shadows of the past. Now the room was bright, the glittering new marble slabs of the wall shining a bright white, the curtain around his bed dyed brilliant reds and blues.

She leaned against the window for a moment, overlooking the country that at one time would have been hers. Buildings gleamed white, freshly coated with plaster. The streets bustled with people from all walks of life, men and women alike free to pursue their passions and desires. Somewhere in those streets, Sappho and Amaltheia were living openly, unbound from the rigid restraints of Attican culture. Nothing she could have done for this country would have rivaled the way Sinbad had managed to revitalize it within a single year.

She turned her gaze to her future king, who was sitting in bed, shirtless, his violet hair spilling around him. Despite the fact that they'd been dating for several months now, she rarely saw him in this state. Seeing him without a shirt still made her long to explore the landscape of his exposed flesh, to navigate the hills and valleys of his abdomen or the plateaus of his pectorals.

Thus far, she had always refrained. Despite having abandoned the vestiges of her religion, she now realized that hadn't been the only thing holding her back. Once she realized she could indulge in the fantasies she harbored about him, she found that she still couldn't bring herself to.

She knew why. It was Marcus. She hadn't seen him since he'd raped her, but he still haunted her. She still remembered the ripping sound of his sticky skin tearing away from her, the nauseating smell of his sweat, his repulsive moaning, the hideous faces he'd made.

Even as she cared for Sinbad, even as she wanted him, she was afraid once she became intimate with him, his skin would stick to hers, his musk would make her ill, his cries of pleasure would frighten her, his expressions would disgust her. Her fear was perhaps irrational, but the result was that so far, their physical relationship had been extremely one sided, and she'd been relatively content to leave it that way.

Patiently, though, he was assuaging her of her fear. Her eyes locked on his lips, so full and soft. They'd become familiar over the last couple of months, slowly awakening a hunger that was becoming harder to ignore. Her desire was becoming more consuming, and she still didn't know how to navigate it. Technically, she wasn't a virgin, but he made her feel like one, shy and often tongue-tied.

Sinbad noticed her hesitation and reached out to her. He was, perhaps, perplexed by her persisting bashfulness this long into their relationship, but he didn't question it. He took whatever she was willing to offer him, occasionally reminding her that he wanted more, but never demanding it.

That was why she knew she was safe with him. That was why, even as the thought that she was in that room lingered somewhere in the back of her mind, she approached him, settling next to him on the bed.

That part was easy. Saying what she had come to say, however, would be a challenge.

"Thalia," he greeted her affectionately, "I was having such a nice dream, and you interrupted it." He wrapped his fingers around her arm, bringing her wrist to his lips and brushing them against it. "I trust you intend to make up for it somehow."

"If you want me to leave—" She began to stand up, desperate for any excuse not to do what she'd come here to.

"To the contrary, I was hoping you'd stay for a while." He pulled her back down, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against his side. "Do you want to know what my dream was about? I should warn you, it was quite graphic."

"Graphic?" Thalia repeated, trying not to squirm at the proximity of his half-clothed body. "Graphic like…?"

He smirked. "Well, you were in it, and you referred to me as 'my king' and from there…" He trailed a finger up her side. "We were in the middle having a lot of fun when you knocked. Would you like to try calling me that and see what happens?"

Thalia shivered, her cheeks growing hot. She was tempted, but she had come here for a reason, and it wasn't to fool around with him.

"Sin?"

"Hm?"

His hand raised to her cheek and she sank into it, savoring his touch. Like his lips, his fingers had become familiar over the last couple of months, exploring every crevice of her body, patiently awakening a world of pleasures that had previously been unknown to her. She imagined them slipping lower, beneath her skirt, and rubbing the building tension out of her body as she straddled his lap, kissing his delicious lips, wrestling with his snaking tongue.

Snapping out of her reverie, she scolded herself. Once again, she'd let down her guard. Her purpose in coming here wasn't to let him seduce her. She had come to talk about her feelings.

She took his other hand in her own and stroked his palm tenderly with her thumbs.

"There's something I wanted to…" she trailed off, breaking eye contact. Each time she tried to look at him, his gaze grew hungrier and her face grew hotter as a result.

She bit her lip nervously, trying to steel herself to do what she had come for, but then an idea surfaced in her mind. She didn't want to explain with words, but she had made leaps and bounds expressing herself in other ways lately. She didn't have to tell him, not out loud.

For her, his touch was sacred, healing. From the time she was small, touch had been something she was deprived of. She received no warm hugs, no affectionate kisses. Sinbad had changed that. From the time they became close, his hands had worked to soothe her, to chase out the loneliness of a lifetime. Every time he affectionately tousled her hair or wrapped her arm around her, she became less hollow.

Then, she'd been raped, and she couldn't stand to be touched for months, not even by him. He had waited for her. He had waited for her to heal enough on her own that he could once again begin to satisfy her aching hunger for the kind of affection he was so good at giving, until she had forgotten what being empty even felt like. He had filled her with warmth, happiness, and love and now she was overflowing.

Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him to her lips in a long, passionate kiss. She didn't need words. She could show him by no longer holding back. She could face her fears. She would face her fears. She was ready.

In that moment, she decided: she wanted to rewrite her history with this man she loved. She would replace her terror with something warm and safe, something healing. Her first time— her real first time— would be with Sinbad. Nothing else counted, not to her.

"Sin?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we…?" she struggled to finish her request, constrained by her own shyness and inexperience.

Sinbad pulled back and studied her closely. "Can we what?"

She looked away, loosening her grip on his hair. He was going to make her say it, wasn't he?

"I want to… with you…" She sighed loudly, the words refusing to leave her mouth.

"You want to be with me?" he confirmed, his eyes glittering with fond amusement.

She gave a stiff nod. "I want to go farther today. All the way."

His smile slipped, and he asked cautiously. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

This question she had no trouble answering. She met his golden eyes unwaveringly. "Yes."

That was all he needed. He buried his face in her neck, beginning with simple, seductive kisses, then throwing in a little tongue, dappling her skin with small, cool patches.

Leaning into his affectionate embrace, Thalia arched her neck with a heady sigh. She loved the warmth of his tongue, the roughness of his eager lips, and the way his broad hand gripped her shoulder before sliding down her arm, caressing her. All of it. She loved all of it, everything he did to her.

This time, she was determined to give back.

She untangled her hands from his hair, running them down his smooth neck to his broad shoulders. The motion, however chaste, elicited a shiver from her lover; his grip on her tightened, his trail of kisses pausing its migration toward her earlobe.

Perhaps she had startled him. After all, she'd never done something like this before. Her fingers had always stayed locked safely in his long hair, never daring to leave except to direct him in her own pleasure.

Today would be different, though. Slowly, she was beginning to understand that once awakening desire had been indulged, it never went back to sleep; it became a gnawing hunger that demanded regular fulfillment, and she had been starving him.

"Thalia?" He pulled back, and that gave her the space she needed to do the thing she'd been longing to do since that morning in Heliohapt when she'd awakened in his bed.

Wordlessly, she ran her hands down his chest and stomach. Strumming her fingertips along the ridges and plains, she reveled in their firm heat, basking in the small groan her touch brought from his lips. Her touch. Hers. She'd never believed they'd be together like this, that she would be the one underneath him.

Suddenly, the things which had frightened her before now flooded her with desire, filling her veins with yearning passion. She wanted to do for him everything he'd done for her and more, to hear him moan, to see his face twist with pleasure.

When she reached the spot where his bare skin dipped behind the cloth of his pants, she didn't hesitate. Her hand slid over the fabric until she felt it, hard and ready.

As he pressed into her hand, Sinbad inhaled sharply through his teeth.

"You're feeling frisky today." His voice came out low, husky. "I've been wondering if I'd ever get to see this side of you."

"Your patience looks like it's paying off." She wrapped her fingers around the bulge inside his trousers, refusing to break eye contact. Her heart raced as it twitched in her hand, sparking her curiosity. It's weight was heavy, nothing like she would have expected from the nude statues she'd seen, and its heat radiated through the fabric, warm and enticing. She wanted to see it.

Sinbad bit down on his bottom lip slowly, his eyes taking on a ravenous gleam. "It does." His fingertips lightly brushed her skin as he thumbed the strap of her dress and slid it off her shoulder. "Can I?"

She nodded, sitting up with him, her shoulder pressing against his broad chest.

His hands trailed down her sides, gripping her dress at the hips before tugging it downward, exposing her breasts and stomach. With a pensive expression, he slipped his arms around her waist and began to trace one of the scars up her back.

Her shoulders hunched with apprehension. She was damaged goods. Nobody wanted a slave with scars. Surely he would realize that and—

His quiet voice broke through her insecurities.

"Perfect," he muttered. "You're perfect. Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?"

Thalia blinked away the tears that had been threatening to fall and met his eyes, giving him a small smile. She wasn't perfect. She knew how well aware of that he was, but in that moment, she felt perfect because he accepted her. Her scars and blemishes were no longer flaws. They were pieces of her story, written on the canvas of her skin, and Sinbad loved stories.

His eyes wandered from her face to her chest where his hand was now cupping her breasts, lightly brushing her erect nipple with his thumb. Letting her head dip backward, Thalia shivered and let out a moan. Such a small thing. He'd barely touched her, and she was already putty in his hands.

"You like that?" he mused, teasing the bud again and washing her with another wave of pleasure.

She nodded obligingly even though his smug expression told her that he was well-aware she was enjoying every moment of this. He was, after all, the Lady Killer of the Seven Seas. He knew exactly how to please a woman. She would have thought she'd be jealous, but now she was grateful for his experience. At least one of them knew what they were doing, and gods was he amazing.

He cocked an eyebrow. "How about this, then?"

Leaning forward, he took her nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. Hot. His mouth was so hot compared to the chill of the morning air, and the heat spilled into her, all the way to her limbs, to that wonderful, sensitive spot between her legs. All the while, his hand continued to massage her other breast, slowly, gently, occasionally running his thumb over her peak.

She clung to him as though she were hanging on for her life. His arms were an anchor, dragging her into his depths; and, washed away by his maddening touch, the fragile remains of her self-control abandoned her.

"Sin…" she panted.

He nipped at her in response. His teeth dug into her sensitive flesh, and pain and pleasure swirled together in a heady rush, forcing her to cry out. How could something that hurt feel so wonderful?

"Again," she begged, her hands wandering to his hardened back, exploring every inch of it. He was so strong, so warm. Every tiny goosebump, every fine hair, she adored all of him. "Please."

As he shifted his grip around her waist, a guttural sound tore from the back of his throat. It was so raw, so virile; it rumbled through her like thunder, sending shockwaves of ecstasy all the way to her curling toes.

Then he bit down, harder this time, and she lost herself in euphoric delirium. Pleasure shot through her, coursing through her veins, tightening every muscle in her trembling body. It wrang a moan from her lips. Loud— much, much too loud. The whole palace would hear her, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered but the man in her arms.

All too soon, she came down from her high, far from satisfied. More. She needed more of him. She would never get enough.

Her lover drew his mouth away from her breast, gasping for air as though he'd been the one drowning in her, not the other way around. His broad chest heaved, coated with a light sheen of sweat that accented every lean muscle.

Thalia inhaled deeply through her nose. Sinbad's odor was an aphrodisiac like no other. It was salty and primal, and it clouded her head, bringing forth hundreds of fantasies. Him on top of her, him underneath her, him on the floor, in the garden— him, him, him.

Tugging on his hair, she pulled his attention back to her face. Her focus flew straight to the cocky grin spreading across his lips.

Those lips, so swollen from playing with her— they looked more delicious than ever. He was already searching for her mouth, sliding one hand up her neck and cupping her cheek.

She drew him into a heated kiss— hungry and demanding. His tongue darted into her mouth in answer, hot and seductive, stoking her desire even further. His deep, wonderful growls reverberated through her, and her mewling, pathetic responses seemed to egg him on until he drew her legs around his waist, sliding her dress up to her thighs, leaving a tingling in trail on her skin in the process.

He had to be able to feel the slickness between her legs as she hooked them around him, pulling herself closer, close enough to rub against that strip of skin above his pants. That hard lump, the one consuming her curiosity, pressed against her impatiently, sending shivers up her spine.

She was impatient too. She wanted to know what it looked like, what it felt like. Nipping at his bottom lip, she whined plaintively.

How long did he intend to tease her like this?

Her partner's throat rumbled, and suddenly she was off the bed, supported only by his firm hands around her thighs. Thalia's kisses faltered as she pulled away, looking around. Did something happen? Where was he taking her? Then her back slapped against the wall, his kisses now trailing their way back down to her neck, and she suddenly understood.

Sinbad was hot, but the wall was cold, and the chill against her sensitive back sent her arching into him with a shiver. This felt wonderful too. She had so much to learn, and he was going to teach her all of it.

"Thalia," he mumbled into the crook of her neck, grinding into her hips, rubbing sparks of intoxicating pleasure into her. He was still prodding her through the restrictive fabric of his trousers, driving her imagination wild. "Are you ready?"

"Y- es…" She gave her halting answer, running her fingers over his back. She was ready— ready for him, for all of him.

He lowered her to the ground, planting one more kiss on her lips. This one was more restrained than their previous ones, gentle and reassuring. It was the kind of kiss that brought shy smiles to her lips. It was the kind of kiss she never got used to.

With no straps or bent legs holding it up, Thalia's dress fluttered to the ground, leaving her bare before her lover. How many times had he whispered in her ear how badly he'd wanted to see her like this? How many times had she fretted anxiously about how he would react when she finally let him? Why had she ever been afraid?

The way he was looking at her now, his unspoken thoughts flashing across his gentle face, washed away all her doubts. He didn't need to tell her anything. He loved her too.

"Sin…" Unbidden, his name fell breathlessly from her lips, saturated with the feelings she struggled to tell him outright. She didn't need to hide anymore, though. She didn't need to hide anything. She decided to tell him the thing she had come to say.

"I love you."

His hands slid up her arms, resting on the sides of her neck.

"I know, Thalia." His large thumb reached out to stroke her cheek. "You've always been terrible at hiding it."

Thalia cringed, averting her eyes from her boyfriend. He hadn't told her he felt the same. Maybe she'd misinterpreted the expression he'd been wearing just now. Maybe it'd just been wishful thinking.

A rush of disappointment flooded her chest. This was humiliating. Here she was literally bearing herself to him, and he still couldn't say it back. Two years. They'd known each other for two years. If he was going to fall for her, he already would have, wouldn't he? What was he doing with her if he didn't return her feelings?

At least he didn't seem to pity her. He had seemed more amused than anything, wearing that kind smile of his. This was probably the best kind of rejection she could ask for.

She dared to glance back in his direction, surprised to find that his face had taken on a solemn quality, his eyes sparking with golden intensity.

"I guess you already know how I feel, too," he said quietly. "I've never been as good at acting as you."

Thalia trembled under the weight of his words. It sounded like he was going to say…

But she was afraid to let herself jump to conclusions. She needed to hear him say it or there would always be room for doubt.

"I love you." His voice was soft and tender, just like his embrace. He had pulled her against his chest, and Thalia was glad. She didn't want him to see the happy tears his words had brought to her eyes, or the stupid grin he'd brought to her face.

Her joyous laughter filled the room until he finally pulled her back. Her giggles caught in her throat when her eyes locked once more on his lips. With three words those lips had made her the happiest woman in the world.

He loved her.

His lips came crashing down on hers like the waves of a roaring sea.

She loved him.

Her clumsy hands worked at the knot holding his pants up, the last thing preventing their union.

They loved each other.

The knot came undone, and the fabric fell to the floor.