“I told you that.”
“Yes, that is what I am saying. You did tell me that, and I ignored you, so it is allyourfault that I am feeling so guilty and so ill because of it.” He had climbed in behind me, despite the narrowness of my cot, and was stroking my sweaty hair off my forehead. He could be as angry as he liked with me if it led to this. He was silent for a while, then asked, “Do you know that sensation of stabbing yourself over and over again with the tip of a knife?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, if you do, after a while you cannot feel it. I do not mean breaking the skin, but that pricking that whitens it until it goes numb.”
“Is there some point to this? I am not feeling well and do not want to think about blood—or pricks, come to that.”
“That would be a first, then. No, what I meant was could this not be like that? If you tookmoresea voyages, you might come to not notice them.”
“Thank you. Remind me not to send for you when I am in need of a doctor. You will cut off one leg to get me used to losing the other.”
“I am only trying to help.”
His words only dismayed me more. I could not help but remember a woman I had met once when newly arrived in England and still establishing myself as a doctor. She had recently lost the twelfth baby she had conceived since marriage. When I arrived, the house was filled with children and babies—her sisters’. Her husband had invited them to stay. “Cheer her up a bit,” he said. My expression betrayed my thoughts, for he’d added, disgruntled, “I am only trying to help.” I do not believe his help aided his poor wife much. Aleksey’s wasn’t doing much for me either. I didn’t want him to feel as I had made that poor man feel, though, and explained calmly, “It is not a physical thing. There is nothing to get used to. It does not lessen with exposure.”
“I do not know what you mean. Is it not the rolling of the deck and the pitching and the—”
“Be quiet!”
He was for a while, then put his arms around my chest and hugged me tight. “If it is not a physical thing, then what is it? I do not understand.”
“I do not either, except it comes upon me—a flash of memory that is more real than what is happening here. I can smell things, feel things, and I am not here but there, and then I am sick again.”
“And then the tears come?”
I gritted my teeth at this. Given the balance of our relationship so far, this was not something I wanted him to know or discuss.
But then he said something that surprised me greatly. “One of my veterans is like you, only he did not suffer what you did. He was captured by the infidels and saw his comrades very badly treated. The memory of their suffering takes him just as yours does. He says he is back there, hearing their screams and seeing their bodies, and then he cannot bring himself back to where he really is. He cries most pitifully.”
I was silent for a while, thinking about this. “What does he do?”
“Oh, he drinks. But I am not advocating that for you. You do not need to drink, for you have me.”
I actually managed a rueful laugh. Iwasfeeling better. Somehow the smell of the ship was not so bad when lying in his arms. I said tentatively, “Perhaps the mind can heal as the body does, given the right treatment.” He put his hands back to my head and began to gently rub his fingers against my temples, so I added, more to myself than to him, “I wonder if I opened up a head and looked inside, I would see horror imprinted on the brain—images.” His hands stopped for a moment and then resumed. I was feeling very relaxed and sleepy by this time, not having slept for two nights and being so emotionally exhausted. He continued to stroke my head, and I do not actually remember falling asleep.
I remember waking, though. I woke to find myself held in arms. I screamed and jerked up, flailing and fighting. I stumbled and tipped off the pallet, then scrabbled and made it into the dayroom. I think I must have been a very frightening sight. I certainly terrified the couriers who were variously sleeping or talking, waiting upon their king. Naked, wild-eyed, and screaming, I ran for the outer doors, which I physically crashed through. I almost made it to the deck—the only place I felt safe—when the guards brought me down. In my mind they were the crew of the whaling ship, and I was being brought down now as I had been then—released to attempt to flee, only to be hunted through the ship until my hiding place was discovered and their fun with my body continued. These two were no match for me, and I floored one with a blow to his face. The other I kicked, but it was a soft blow only, for I was naked. I followed up by smashing him into the wall and attempting to crush his throat. I am not an easy man to restrain, even when in my right mind.
Aleksey had taken time to throw a robe around his naked body, and then he was there, taking command of the other guards who had piled out of their cabin on hearing the commotion, claiming that I was in a delirium and should be taken back to the cabin. He then, thank God, emptied the dayroom. I had never seen people so glad to be told they would not be needed again for the rest of the night. They scurried away faster than the ship’s rats did at Faelan’s shadowy passing. I was not delirious. I had just thought I was back in a small cabin being restrained. I was furious, though, and humiliated and very, very upset.
I had not wanted to come on this journey, but I had done it for him, and now everyone had seen me like a woman fleeing ravishment. I was completely undone and wanted no comfort. I refused to allow him to hug me as I stood at the cabin window. I would take no comfort from words either. I had hurt him when I fought him, but I think I hurt him more by my rejection. I could not explain. How could I, without telling him how it had been and what it felt like for a man to be held down by other men, with men shouting encouragement and laughing and getting better positions to watch and then to take their turn? How it felt to have your body invaded. I could not tell him that for many months I had groveled like a whore so that rape would become the semblance of love, so that James Harcourt might keep me to himself and not…. I could not tell him that I had lost myself and my sense of being a man, and that in his heart no man recovers from that essential loss.
I thought I would lose Aleksey that night. I would have given me up had I been him. But Aleksey was not me; he was entirely his own man, as I had begun to discover. He left me to my grief and misery in the dayroom and went to bed. When I knew he would be asleep and I would not have to engage with him, I went in too.
He was waiting for me. He was naked, stretched out on the large bunk on his belly, the smooth planes and lines of his body sleek and pale and beautiful. The lamp was swinging slightly with the motion of the ship, and his beauty passed in and out of shadow with its movement.
I avoided his eyes, not wanting him to see that I had been crying once more, that I was tense and very afraid. This… temptation… was not what I wanted in the state I was in. He lifted his shoulders, arching his back, his head hanging down, not looking at me. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” It was exactly the sentimentIhad been thinking abouthim. I crossed over and put a hand on his waist. It almost went lower of its own accord. “I forced you to come on this crossing, and now you will not even let me help you.”
“No, Aleksey, it’s not like that. I’m—”
“Please.” He turned to face me. “I want you. I want you to wantme. Like… this.”
And God help me, I did. He could see by the outline in my breeches that my body did, that it had responded to his wanton nakedness without me confirming this in speech. He unlaced me, and my coverings fell to the floor. I could deny nothing then. Even so, I tried to forestall his eagerness. “This is not the place… I’m not… I am….”
He shifted slightly, one leg bent up, and all was exposed to my sight. He took my hand. “I am a king now, Niko. Everything I say is obeyed; everything I want is given to me. I have so much power that I think I will swell up and burst sometimes. You are the only one who reminds me of what I really am, the only one who will tell me when I am wrong. You aremyking, Niko, and I need you. Please do this for me.”
His seduction was poised on a knife-edge between complete disaster and total success, and I hesitated, my thoughts so chaotic that I could not slow them down and calm them. I would have denied him and left, my sickness and self-disgust great enough to overcome my body’s desire, but his hand held something out of sight under the pillow.
