Chapter 20
"Dark Days"
By midday the air was flush with the open sun and cool winds of the sea. The day called, and children found any excuse to shuck their chores and answer. Three boys chased a rogue chicken through the streets, its squawking and shivering wings fighting to be heard over the rustling of the square. All was movement and restless energy—all but the Alban Princess. Iliana held to her veil, grasping a handful of the thin material beneath her chin, hiding the bandage around her throat. Still, she could feel the eyes surrounding her full of pity and sadness, and any shroud dissolved. She felt naked, exposed, visible. Worse, their silent stares drained her of her courage. The blood pooled in her feet. Her heart fell deep in her chest. She glanced about, dizzy and vacant, seemingly oblivious to the forge in front of her and the door ripped from one hinge and hanging ajar. With every gust of wind, it swung absently. The mutilated helmet that had once kept it company was gone, and it seemed lifeless as it hung and creaked. There was no light inside, and bathed in the sun, Iliana didn't feel she have the strength to face the darkness again.
Yet, it called. Some unseen force tugged at her, and while she could not step forward, she couldn't turn away. Adjusting her fingers, the thin tendons and muscles were sore from gripping so tightly.
"You must," she whispered to herself.
She took a tentative step and then another until she reached the threshold, and her empty hand brushed the door. She drew a deep breath and pushed. The door yawned open, slow and irregular, and Iliana hadn't anticipated the disarray that would meet her. Straw, dirt, and ashes covered all; the stones of the fire pit had been torn away; broken spears and arrows scattered the ground; the table lay on its side in the center of the space. The forge had been sacked, and they had laid waste to the interior. It was a wonder it had not been burnt to the ground, though nothing more could be made of it—not a home or a haven. They'd left him nothing to return to, and Iliana was heartbroken, disgusted, and confused staring at the mess they'd left. The chaos was so distracting that she didn't notice the figure sitting aside.
Somehow he looked like an extension of the destruction, the way he bent over his knees, head in his hands. He seemed as unaware of her as she was of him, but as her focus centered on him, the air changed. His hands relaxed, he tilted his head back, and only his black eyes appeared and swirled blindly to find her. Their gazes caught, but there was no spark of excitement or anger or fear. It was mutual exhaustion. His hands fell away completely though he remained hunched across his knees.
"Why are you here?" he asked, that rough rasp of his voice making her shiver with recognition. It felt like years since she had heard his voice.
Her eyes lay open and wide, but her lips were sealed. What could she possibly say to him? Hundreds of words crowded up her throat into a heavy lump, and nothing could breach that wall of silence.
Exhaling, Damian winced as he eased back, and she glanced at the dirty bandage wrapped around his chest, her errant mind recalling the afternoon she had found him and tried to heal him. She gripped tighter to her veil until the tangled fingers were white and stiff as bone. They were both wounded now. The Spartan moved slowly, lax of the strength and vigor that Iliana had always admired in him, and he forced himself to his feet. He staggered briefly before finding his bearings, but though his body was weak, his intent was clear. He advanced toward her, stepping across the disarray, and she stood shaking and frozen in front of him. Grimacing, he pushed aside the table between them, and Iliana startled at the rough sound of it against the silence and the emptiness swallowing the forge. His black eyes speared her, and his shoulders fell in a way that was both weary and determined. He drew his full height, regaining that stature that had been imposing and daunting to her though he was thinner and paler than before. His dark eyes looked almost sunken and hollow in his face, but she couldn't look away from the intensity of his stare. He took another step toward her, and she flinched unthinkingly like a cornered doe as she recognized his proximity and how it unraveled her. Without hesitation, he reached out and took the edges of her veil, easing it back from her hair and toward her shoulders. She blinked and gazed terrified at him. Her hand clutched even tighter as if it were petrified and turned to stone, sensing his purpose.
"Let go," he commanded.
She shook her head, but her eyes were mesmerized by his. He tugged, and her hand numbly released its hold on her veil even as she wished to hold on, feeling the thin material slip out of her grasp. Her veil fell limply from her shoulders and down to the dirty floor. Damian found the edges of the bandage at her neck next, and Iliana's mouth opened with protest though no sound escaped. The lump felt thicker and heavier, and her eyes warmed and pulsed with all that she couldn't say. He patiently unraveled the knotting and began to unwind the bandage, removing at last the bunch of herbs that covered the wound. Iliana's lips shivered, and tears fell without sound. She wanted to beg him to stop, to ask him why he would do this to her, to scream. No one had seen the burn but the healer: Iliana had never felt more vulnerable. He cradled her jaw, angling her head back where he could see the ugly wound on her throat—the product of his hands—a sign of their bloodied relationship.
He exhaled all the air from his lungs, boring a hole through her as he stared it, and she could feel the tension crackling and building. She hadn't envisioned this. This was not how they were meant to rediscover one another, yet she felt powerless. She couldn't understand any of this.
"I thought of this moment every day," Damian said. "The moment when I lost everything."
Her eyes fell shamefully to the chaos surrounding them, knowing her role and her guilt in the matter.
"I knew there would be a price to pay for my lies, but I never thought…"
His words became too heavy to continue, and Iliana was grateful for the breath of silence. She didn't want this. She didn't need an apology. She only wanted the truth: the lies had cut her much deeper than a knife ever could. The words broke apart in her throat, and she heard herself ask the one question that haunted her still, "Did you ever love me?"
The Spartan behaved as if he were at the feet of Aphrodite in a temple, praying for redemption from a mute, cold statue, and he almost seemed unnerved that she answered. His breath quickened, and his gaze considered her face instead of the wound he had caused. "What?" he muttered, sounding confused.
Gathering her strength, she looked to him. "Was it all a lie? Did you mean any of it? Was it just some cruel joke?"
"No," he snapped, and his features twisted as though insulted. "I never lied to you—"
"Everything you said was a lie!" she accused and pushed away his hand from her face. "You held the truth from me! You made me believe that you were someone else."
"You saw what you wanted to see. I warned you."
Iliana stared him with chestnut eyes hard as stone, leaving her fury to radiate from her, as two weeks' worth of frustrations and fears and pains boiled over. "If I hadn't come to you that night, would you have married me? Would you have let me live beside you, thinking you were someone that you weren't? Would you have lied to our children and to their children after them?"
"No," he growled and turned away from her.
"Would you have died and left me mourning a man who never existed?"
"No!" he said sharply, spearing her with his dark eyes, but as he stared at her, his resolve faded. He looked away again, grumbling, "I don't know…"
It was what she had suspected, and yet her chest ached to hear him say it aloud. Her quick tongue fell flat with nothing else to enliven it.
His hands cupped his head briefly, seeming cradle a deeper ache, before he twisted to face her again. "I never asked for this! I never asked for you to come through that door!"
Iliana stared at him, no tears, completely drained. She faced the end with clear sight.
"And when you did," Damian continued while growing more determined and forceful with every word, "I tried—I tried to push you away, but I couldn't. Every time I looked at you I wanted to be better. I wanted to leave everything behind and be the man you thought I was."
She gritted her teeth and held perfectly still.
"What was I to do? What could I have said to you?" he continued. "I was trapped, and there was nothing that I could say to change what I had done." He exhaled, almost exhausted, and shook his head barrenly as if he had said all that he could. Standing before her, he opened his palms at his sides and said, "I can't change what I've done, but I've sworn to your father that I will be a different man. I'll earn your trust again if I have to die on the battlefield for it. I'll prove to you that I can be the man you need."
Iliana's brow folded in confusion, her mind wrapped up, even as Damian continued, but she couldn't process anything. "The battlefield?" she repeated.
He paused mid-sentence, as equally perplexed by her confusion. "Yes… We will go to war with Apulia, and I will march with the army."
"Why? You're not a sol—" Iliana stopped herself as she realized her mistake, and he said nothing. He had been a soldier of Sparta. Her mind raced endlessly in a thousand directions, and all she could muster was "This isn't your war."
"Alba Longa is my home," he answered evenly, "and Haemon was my prince. I want there to be justice for your family and our city."
Iliana shook her head unconsciously, unable to corral her thoughts or feelings at this news. She glanced him, thinner and paler than the robust blacksmith who had caught her eyes, and wondered bitterly, "You're hurt. Can you lift a sword to fight? How do you expect to get justice? You'll die if you step onto the field like this! How can you—"
Without warning, he grasped her face, and her words died in her throat the moment his lips molded to hers. Her body recognized him in ways her mind couldn't comprehend, and it almost sighed with relief for the forgiveness and comfort of his kiss. It was too fleeting when his forehead pressed against hers, his nose drawing along the side of her own, and she didn't realize he was smiling until she heard it in his voice, "I won't die."
She swallowed and pushed her face deeper toward his. "How can you know?"
"Because I will march to battle, and when I return, I will have you."
The hairs pricked to life down her spine, sending a subtle tremor through her, and her eyes burst open to meet his gaze and the sinuous smile beneath it. She rushed forward until her lips crashed into his. The truth had never tasted sweeter.
‡‡‡
The rolling plains gave way to flatter terrain as they neared the coast, and at the peak of the last hill, an endless sea of blue stretched out ahead of her. Aurora's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes darted back and forth to search the endless expanse so much vaster and brighter than she could have imagined. For the first time in her life, the Apulian princess faced the sea, and nestled just below them was an even more beautiful picture where large walls enclosed a small city—a picture of salvation.
"Alba Longa," Haemon breathed from her side, and she glanced at the prince whose normally stoic face was suddenly warm beneath the afternoon light. The cool sea breezes mussed his chestnut curls, and though he frowned to keep the sun out of his eyes, his air was lighter like a weight had been lifted. He looked like a wanderer who finally found his way home. Feeling her gaze, he turned to meet it, and Aurora was almost too mesmerized by the look of happiness in his eyes to remember her anger toward him. Haemon considered her briefly before he turned from her and flexed his heels into the horse's sides so that he descended the hill at the head of the pack; he'd found something more alluring than her to captivate him, and Aurora was left to look after him, a sole rider against the stretch of blue skimming the sky on the horizon. She inhaled deep into her belly and followed after him.
Alba Longa was not a large city, and as they drew closer, the small caravan passed pieces of old stone wedged into the ground in oddly symmetrical patterns. So the capital of Latium had been built upon ruins of an older civilization—perhaps one of the tribes that Haemon complained of so often—and it seemed appropriate for the survivors of a ruined city. Still, the evidence of war was written on Alba Longa's walls, a mixture of wood and stone built up higher than a horse could jump. One side was in the process of being rebuilt, clearly having been torn down by their enemies, and when they were near enough, Aurora could hear the hammering of tools and clink of metal as men went about mending the gash. They circled around the edge and toward the gates, open and waiting to accept the riders, and townspeople crowded around the entry for a glimpse of the impossible—the resurrected Crown Prince. Cheers broke out like a roar of happiness the moment Haemon was within sight, and Aurora hadn't expected them to be genuine. A city that loved its prince seemed too impossible to dream up. In return, a grin so broad and pleased graced Haemon's features unlike she had ever seen. For a first impression, Alba Longa was a meager sight, but it felt magical for the beautiful terrain, warmth of strangers, and kindness it brought out of the warrior prince.
Haemon dismounted his horse, and barely moments later a young woman burst forward and leapt into his arms. The prince hesitated briefly before he cradled her near him and laughed into her hair. Aurora frowned in both shock and frustration by such a public show of affection for a man who had always been so guarded and fierce to her eyes. Staring at them, though, she noticed their hair almost blended together with the same shade of chestnut, and she understood. This woman was not a lover but a sibling, and when at last Haemon released her, Aurora could see her features and was certain. The hand gripping her stomach eased, but she couldn't turn away.
"Brother," the young woman said and looked near tears, "you're safe."
"Yes," Haemon answered and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, but soon he had to turn to embrace someone else—a man with pale blonde curls and handsome features undeterred even by age—Aeneas, Aurora mused.
She was so preoccupied watching Haemon interact with his family that she didn't notice one of the guards at her side until he cleared his throat and said, "My Lady." Startling subtly, she noticed the guard's hand extended to her, and she hastily allowed him to help her from her horse. Both feet were planted, yet she didn't feel any more grounded. There was a sense of surreal-ness, and Aurora couldn't find her bearings in this place. No matter how welcoming Alba Longa was, she was still a stranger inside its walls, and yet, it was now her home.
Another man, younger than Haemon stepped forward to greet the Crown Prince, while Aurora glanced about her and tried to ignore the peasants whispering now that their cries had died down. They listened and waited for some news to be announced. Ascanius was the last to approach Haemon, and both stared at each other in mutual surprise and elation before embracing.
"I'd thought Savas would have your head," Haemon confessed and patted his brother's tawny brown curls appreciatively.
"He tried," Ascanius answered and grinned, "but his riders weren't fast enough. And what of you? A few more days, and we might have burned an empty pyre in your honor."
"Disappointed to find I'm alive, brother?"
"No. Only curious as to what took you so long. You'd think you hiked across the mountains on foot," Ascanius said and shook his head with derision.
"Actually…" Haemon flexed his brow meaningfully, and Ascanius' jaw opened in surprise.
"And you did not make the journey alone," Aeneas intervened, making Haemon recall the woman he'd left standing alone and nervous behind him.
"No, I did not." He promptly turned to face her, his gaze tangling in her own and finding hers more molten and uneasy. Without hesitation, he offered out his hand. Aurora stared at it a moment, sensing the inherent meaning of this small gesture, and glanced at his eyes once more. His features were warm and relaxed, and she chewed her lip briefly as she gathered her courage in light of that look. Her hands grasped her hood first for she had worn it to protect her face from the sun, but now she drew it back and let it fall to her shoulders so that her golden hair flamed beneath the open sunlight. The peasants around them broke into whispers like busy insects buzzing about, and their clamor unnerved her. She never enjoyed public attention given her history and the dark rumors that followed her. But here, they knew nothing of her past. What did they think, then, when they saw her?
Haemon's hand still waited patiently between them, and Aurora took a quick breath before she grasped it and let him draw her closer to his family.
"I've returned to Alba Longa with a wife," Haemon said loud enough that they peasants around them wouldn't need to strain to hear him, and the Apulian princess held tighter to his hand. They weren't yet married, but now, after all that they had experienced together, it seemed like such an insignificant detail. "This is Aurora, daughter of Lycaon, heir to Apulia."
The crowd burst into cheers again so abruptly that Aurora flinched, and Haemon laughed, grinning at her like she were suddenly so amusing to his eyes. She was lost and confused looking back. Why this sudden change? Could Alba Longa really have such an effect on him?
"Princess," Aeneas said, voice bellowing to be heard over the crowd, and the peasants quieted down to hear what their king would say, "we welcome you to Alba Longa, your home if you will take it."
"My Lord," she answered immediately and released Haemon's hand to bow to the Alban King, answering to the ground. "It is an honor to meet you at last, and I am only gracious that you will accept me into your lands—given what has passed." She glanced up hopefully and realized Aeneas was grinning, his sons and daughters as well, seeming entertained by Aurora whose features paled to think she had misspoken.
Aeneas stepped forward and took Aurora's hand, coaxing her to stand and face him, and the handsome king leaned in to whisper confidentially, "We are not so formal in Alba Longa."
She smiled nervously, but as she gazed into the king's pale blue eyes, so warm and calming like the sea that she had glimpsed for the first time this day, her agitation eased.
"The gods have smiled on my family to watch over your journey and return my two sons to me, and they have blessed Haemon to give him such a fair wife." She blushed unconsciously, and Aeneas chuckled to himself. "Come. You must meet your new family."
With that, he turned and opened her to the three siblings lingering nearby. Ascanius smiled and nodded his head in greeting. "Princess… I'm happy to meet you again and on better terms, I hope."
"Of course," Aurora said. "I'm glad you returned safely, and I apologize—"
"There's no need," he interrupted. "Even wise men cannot predict when evil will strike. None of us could have been prepared for what happened… Fortunately, the gods are in our favor. They protected us, and now they will support us when we march against Savas."
"We will not march alone," Haemon added.
"Later," Aeneas interrupted. "I've only just had my sons returned to me. I'd like the afternoon at least before I have to consider letting them go again."
It was then that the young woman stepped forward, smiling so brightly that it seemed she had borrowed Apollo's light and shone from the inside out. "I'm Iliana," she introduced, "and I'm glad you've come. I've been waiting for the day Haemon would find his match, and I never…" She laughed to herself and glanced at her older brother with a silent joke shared between them before turning to Aurora again. "I never thought you would be blonde! Welcome." She took Aurora into her arms without another word, and the Apulian princess was stiff as Iliana was warm. Her arms remained fixed at her sides, and her face was unmoving in surprise at such a familiar gesture. Iliana released her a moment later, still smiling at her private joke, and Aurora tentatively returned the look.
At last, a slender, tall man awaited his turn, and though he boasted a head full of chestnut curls to match his siblings, his blue eyes were flecked with green and deep and vast like she could peer into them endlessly.
"This is Nereus," Iliana said through her sustained laughing.
Nereus had a more serious, stern air about him than his brothers or sister, but he did not seem sinister, only calculated and calm in that respect. Aurora was grateful that he spoke first, "Princess, welcome to Alba Longa. It is fortunate that you escaped and have found your way to our city—even under these circumstances. There is a spare room in my home where you can stay until the marriage is arranged. It may be some time since we are preoccupied with war, but my wife could keep you company and help you adjust to our ways, if you would like."
Aurora stared at him, mouth ajar, knowing that she should say something and yet so taken off guard by his offer that she couldn't choose how to react.
"She'll stay in my home," Haemon decided in her place.
Nereus looked to his older brother with a slight wrinkling to his brows. "Brother, are you not still unwed?"
"I didn't bring her across the forests and the mountains to leave my side."
"Nereus is right," Aeneas interjected. "It is custom for the woman and man to be separated before marriage. We shouldn't anger the gods."
"By your words, the gods are the ones who protected us and watched over our journey here. I think they approve," Haemon countered, both fierce and annoyed in the sharp way that she recognized better than his kindness. No one spoke up against him, though he looked from Nereus to Aeneas and repeated, "She'll stay in my home."
‡‡‡
Night was upon them in hours, and day's light gave way to torches and candles and a huge bonfire built up in the center of the city square. Boughs adorned tables, dyed cloth wrapped about the trees, and lanterns swayed in the breeze where they hung from the branches. A troupe of musicians played songs that were foreign to her ears with tales from a far away land. Roasted meats and vegetables overflowed from bronze platters, fresh fruit lay in piles on the table, and vessels of wine were drunk and forgotten until they too formed a heap at the edge of the celebration. In hours, the Albans and their king had managed this feast to welcome the Crown Prince and celebrate his upcoming nuptials to the Apulian woman, who was consistently impressed by the townspeople's respect for the royal family and the unusual air that surrounded Alba Longa. She sat at the head of the largest table beside Haemon and across from his sister Iliana.
She pretended not to overhear when the Alban princess leaned over to Ascanius' wife, a pretty tawny woman, and whispered loudly, "She's beautiful, isn't she?"
The woman didn't reply and looked rather sullen, in Aurora's eyes, while she nursed a cup of wine.
Haemon squeezed Aurora's thigh unconsciously as he was in the midst of a conversation with his brothers and father concerning the upcoming battle, and Aurora found a much more interesting conversation to catch her attention.
"Deidus and his army will march along the Northern Road through the mountains and to the High Pass, while we march from the west. Savas' forces will be divided between fighting Deidus or us. We'll have the advantage," Haemon explained.
"If we're to do this," Nereus said, "we'll need Ariston. We'll need as many men as we can rally to join us."
"And weapons," Haemon agreed and turned his cup in his hand.
"That has been taken care of," Aeneas said, but both Nereus and Ascanius were silent in a way that spoke volumes.
"What?" the eldest prince prodded. "Have we the weapons or not?"
"Yes," Ascanius answered stiffly, "but at a cost."
"We won't speak of this," Aeneas warned sharply.
"What? What are you keeping from me?"
"Ask our sister," Ascanius answered sharply.
"You won't disobey my will," Aeneas snapped. "You've grown too arrogant and blood thirsty to trust the wisdom of your father. It was my decision. It will be respected so long as I breathe and my memory lives after me!"
"Aurora," a voice whispered, and the princess was delayed in her response, her attention divided between the tense conversation and the voice calling to her. At last, she turned to see Iliana bent across the table and looking cross to have been ignored for so long.
"Yes?" the Apulian asked.
Iliana smiled, a brief glimpse of that sunlight she could command, and said, "I want to show you something. Will you walk with me?"
Aurora opened her mouth to respond, but there was nothing to answer. She looked uncomfortably at Haemon who was still staring at Ascanius and Nereus to understand what their father had meant, and she didn't know if she should ask permission to leave his side. She'd never been at a banquet to celebrate their upcoming nuptials like this, and being that she was a stranger in Alba Longa, she didn't know the proper protocol.
"Haemon can bear to part from you a moment, I think," Iliana said loud enough that her older brother heard.
In turn, the crown prince glanced toward them, his features tense and his eyes distant, but he said nothing. He tilted his head, removed his hand from Aurora's thigh, and looked back to his brothers and father.
Aurora was left to stare at his profile with a mixture of surprise and frustration. He'd not given his permission—he'd dismissed her! She bristled briefly and answered Iliana, "I would like that very much."
Again, the Alban princess smiled, but it lacked the luster of earlier. Both stood without a word and took up a path away from the celebration. Aurora didn't even bother to see if Haemon looked after… She knew he wouldn't.
"I'm so happy to meet you," Iliana began, tangling her fingers in front of her and looking at Aurora hopefully. "I meant what I said before—when we met. I've always wondered who Haemon would wed. You're so different from anyone I've ever met…. But I am sorry for the tension between our lands and for the way you've been exiled from your home. It's an awful burden to bear."
"It is," the princess agreed in a neutral tone, at once guarded and distracted. She gazed off ahead of them rather than addressing Iliana directly.
"It is…" Iliana searched for the proper word and wrinkled her brow in thought. "…interesting that you should find my family under these circumstances. We understand better than you might think."
"Troy," Aurora anticipated. Realizing she'd conquered the topic rather inelegantly, she glanced at Iliana with guilty eyes. "Haemon spoke of it."
This left Iliana to gaze ahead, and her brow relaxed. She shook her head subtly almost in dumb surprise. "He trusts you."
"I doubt it's trust," Aurora confessed and cringed inwardly at her sudden confidentiality. "Survival brings out unexpected sides of a person," she decided more diplomatically.
"He barely speaks of Troy with us. In fact, none of us speak of it," Iliana commented and then grinned mischievously at Aurora. "He likes you."
The princess looked away, poorly hiding the way she frowned and rolled her eyes at the comment. It was too ironic and ill-placed to even be humorous.
Iliana caught on immediately and grasped Aurora's elbow to still her and force her to face her. "I know that my brother can be difficult at times. When it comes to war or battle, he's like a dog with a bone." Aurora looked put off by the analogy, but Iliana laughed. "He is so consumed by the details and plans that everything else can fall away, but you should know that it's not his fault for being like this. When we were young, he took care of us." Her chestnut eyes searched Aurora's features, so warm and pulsing with love and admiration that the sensation was almost infectious. "He's a good man. In time, you'll come to see it too, and maybe one day he'll bury the bone and pay attention to what's around him…" The Alban princess seemed to understand the poor end to her analogy, echoed in Aurora's perplexed frown, and without warning, both laughed.
Iliana looped her arm through Aurora's and tugged enthusiastically. "Come… You must see this!"
A table away, Ascanius smiled after the two women and looked to Haemon who had receded from the revelry to a pensive, brooding mood—overwhelmed by the upcoming battle. "Your betrothed is already charming our family," he commented.
Haemon's eyes pricked to life subtly and focused on Ascanius who turned his head to direct Haemon's attention toward Aurora and Iliana walking away from the square arm-in-arm. His attention lingered watching the blonde smile candidly at Iliana, and then he began swirling his cup of wine while he let himself consider some private thought.
"She's different than the woman we met in Apulia," Ascanius continued. "She'll make a decent wife."
Haemon grunted under his breath and took a long sip of wine.
"You disagree? I thought you didn't bring her across the forests and mountains to leave your side," he taunted.
He said nothing still, making Ascanius frown dubiously.
"What have you done?"
Haemon look at him, confused and insulted at once. "What?"
His brother quirked his brows. "The gods blessed you with strategy, not charm, brother."
"I don't know what you're saying," he grumbled.
"I'm saying," Ascanius spelled out arrogantly for he knew he was correct and for once in a position of power against his older brother, "that war with Apulia has not made you so short-tempered. So, what have you done?"
Haemon exhaled hotly like a cornered animal, assessing Ascanius from beneath his wrinkled brow, and at last he set aside his wine and confused, "She's angry with me." He glanced toward his left where Aurora and Iliana were gone from his sight. "While in Samnium, there was word from Apulia. Savas captured and planned to execute Atlan."
"The huntsman?"
"He was the man who found Aurora in the forest after her family's murder. He's been a father to her since that day…"
"You weren't the one who condemned him. Savas is trying to bury his lies. He has to cut the loose ends."
"And there was nothing I could do about it." Haemon shook his head slightly before it hung between his shoulders. When he inhaled next, he looked up again and added, "All I could think of…"
"This has nothing to do with him." Ascanius bent forward to speak where none would hear him. "You can't save everyone."
"I know," Haemon growled shortly, seeming aggravated with that mortal limitation.
"She's a woman—prone to emotion, irrational at times."
The crown prince snorted in derision and took another sip of his wine. "What can I do about it?"
"Remind her that she's not alone," Ascanius advised and checked to be sure no one else heard his candid response. "After all, it's what husbands do. Better to realize it now."
Is that not what I've done since I took her from Apulia! his mind hissed, but Haemon could say nothing more. In one attempt, he finished the last of his wine, stood, and strode toward his home. He was in no mood for revelry or company.
Author's Note: Hi my lovelies! Long time, no update? I do apologize for the extreme delay. Those of you who know me know that I'm usually as timely as I can be. Between panic attacks, graduate applications, editing jobs, and the looming termination of my lease, I was a hot mess. Fortunately those days are behind me, and I have returned my attention to writing! Thanks for your patience. Only three more chapters remain, including an action-packed finale!
Thanks to AmyLNelson, klandgraf2007, and Guest for the super sweet reviews!
Amy: You visited France, and you liked Disneyland the best?! Blasphemy! haha Oh well, I'm just happy you had a good time. I'm going to be doing an internship in Brussels this coming year, so hopefully I'll get a chance to take a train over to France or even your neck of the woods! I'm really happy you enjoyed the brief flashback with Myrina :) It was good to write about her again, and I hope you're still enjoying the relationships. There will be a fun chapter between Haemon and Aurora next :D Thank you again for the congrats. I went to the launch party recently and had to read an excerpt (my legs were shaking so badly, I thought I'd collapse haha) and then found out I won a writing contest the next day which was surreal haha I hope you're doing well, Miss Amy! xoxo
klandgraf: Thank you love! I hope this wasn't a disappointment, and that you enjoyed it! :D
Guest: Awww I wish you had left me some way to contact you. I would have been able to shoot you a PM in the last couple of months when I was making myself sick with nerves-literally-and told how sweet it was to receive this review in my inbox! I was not intentionally staying away, but I have been beyond busy these last couple of months and almost driving myself insane with stress. Ironically writing happens to be a great stress reliever for me, but I was too exhausted and scatterbrained to actually sit down and write something coherent! Regardless, I appreciate your support and kind words and hope you find this reply so that you know how much your review meant to me. Thank you, and I hope you'll continue to read and figure out how it all ends :D xoxo
