Chapter
One
RHAZIR
The sea breathed beneath us like a slumbering titan, each wave lifting the vessel's hull in a rhythm that had become my heartbeat these past three days. I gripped the carved rail until my knuckles whitened, watching Eletheria rise from the wine-dark waters like some fever dream of the gods. The island bloomed before us in terraces of white stone and olive groves, its temples catching the afternoon sun like scattered pearls.
My throat constricted with want and dread in equal measure.
Behind me, the ship's timbers groaned with each swell, and somewhere in that symphony of wood and wind, I heard his footsteps. Light as always, deliberate as a cat stalking through shadow. My spine straightened without conscious thought, everynerve awakening to his presence before he'd even spoken.
Eight years. Eight years of knowing the precise cadence of his walk, the particular way he disturbed the air around him. Eight years of existing in the orbit of his radiance like some lesser star, burning itself hollow in service to a greater light.
"Still standing there like a temple statue, I see."
Prince Serin's voice carried that familiar note of lazy amusement, though something cooler threaded beneath it. I didn't turn, though every fiber of my being strained toward him like a compass seeking true north. Three days since he'd discovered me aboard, and still that frost lingered in his tone when he spoke to me.
"Your Highness." The words emerged rougher than intended, scraped raw by three days of salt air and sleepless vigil. "I thought you were exploring the ship."
"Oh, I was." His shoulder brushed mine as he moved to the rail beside me, close enough that I could smell the myrrh oil he favored, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his sun-kissed skin. "Did you know the cook keeps a collection of shells from every port he's visited? Fascinating fellow. Much better company than brooding bodyguards."
The casual barb stung, though I'd grown accustomed to such treatment these past days. Ever sinceI'd appeared at his cabin door that first morning, travel-stained and breathless from my frantic search through the docks, he'd greeted my presence with this particular sort of cool politeness. As if I were some unwelcome reminder of duties he'd rather forget.
"I'm certain he was honored by your attention," I replied carefully.
Serin made a sound that might have been laughter, though it held little warmth. "Unlike some, he seemed genuinely pleased to share stories." His fingers drummed against the rail, a habit I'd catalogued along with a hundred others. "He's been to Eletheria before, you know. Says the island lives up to every tale ever told about it."
Despite myself, I felt curiosity stir. "What manner of tales?"
Now he did laugh, bright and musical as temple bells, and when I glanced sideways I caught the edge of a smile that could have launched a thousand ships. "Oh, the most scandalous sort. Boys who compose poetry while lounging naked in olive groves. Priests who consider pleasure itself a form of worship. Gardens where the very flowers are said to inspire desire." His eyes sparkled with mischief and genuine delight. "Can you imagine? A place where beauty and joy are held sacred instead of..." He paused, the sentence hanging unfinished in the salt-sweet air.
Instead of what waited back home. Instead of the crown that would crush his spirit into something hard and cruel. Instead of becoming the kind of man who found pleasure in others' pain.
But Serin didn't finish the thought. Instead, he turned that radiant smile toward the approaching island, and I watched wonder bloom across his features like sunrise breaking over water.
"Look at it, Rhazir," he breathed, and for a moment all pretense fell away. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? So alive with possibility?"
I looked. White walls climbed terraced hillsides where olive trees swayed in the evening breeze. The distant sound of pipes drifted across the water, sweet and wild as birdsong. Gardens spilled over stone balustrades in riots of color, and I could just make out figures moving among the pathways; young men in flowing robes that barely covered them, their laughter carrying like music.
"It looks prosperous," I managed, though the sight filled me with nameless dread.
Serin shot me a look of amused exasperation. "Prosperous. Only you would look upon paradise and think of trade routes." He leaned forward over the rail, practically vibrating with excitement. "They say the gods themselves still walk those pathways. That mortals and immortals mingle freely, bound by nothing but desire and poetry and the pursuit of perfect beauty."
The hunger in his voice was unmistakable, though whether it was for divine communion or earthly pleasure, I couldn't say. Perhaps both. Perhaps it didn't matter.
"The gods have always been... capricious in their attentions," I said carefully.
"Capricious." He tasted the word like honey wine. "Yes, I suppose they have. How wonderfully unpredictable that must be." Another glance in my direction, this one cooler. "Unlike some companions, who appear wherever one goes whether invited or not."
There it was again, that edge of resentment that had colored every interaction since my arrival. I'd thought he would be grateful for my presence, relieved to have his sworn protector at his side. Instead, he seemed almost disappointed.
"My oath binds me to your safety," I said, the familiar words feeling inadequate. "I could not let you sail into unknown waters alone."
"Unknown waters." His laugh held a note I couldn't interpret. "Is that what you think this is? Some perilous journey into darkness?" He gestured toward the island with one graceful hand. "Look around you, my faithful shadow. Does this look like danger to you?"
It looked like temptation given form. Like every fear I'd harbored about losing him made manifest in white stone and golden sunlight. Like a place wherea prince might disappear forever into gardens of earthly delight, leaving behind the man sworn to protect him.
"Danger takes many forms," I said quietly.
