A Proposal

July, 447 H.E.

 

Gary did not hate many things in life.  He had always been a happy-go-lucky sort.  But one thing he did hate was when Cythera frowned.

 

Not that it marred her beauty, of course.  No, the turned-down lips and furrowed eyebrows and the expression of deep thought was rather pleasing to the eyes, along with the way she absent-mindedly flipped her fan in her hand or tugged a curl loose from her complicated coif.

 

It was the mere fact that Cythera was unhappy that bothered Gary.  Perhaps he was a sentimental fool, but he disliked seeing anyone he loved remotely unhappy, and Cythera had been frowning more and more lately.

 

He stood carefully and crossed to her side of the boat.  She glanced up at him when she felt the gentle rocking.

 

“This is lovely, isn’t it?” she asked, gesturing to toward the dozens of similar vessels on the River Oleron.  “When the sun sets and the paper lanterns are lit, it will be even more impressive.”

 

Gary took her hand in both of his, and kissed it affectionately.  “What’s upsetting you, dear?”

 

He expected a smile and a denial, or perhaps a string of half-truths—a list of trivial things that were bothering her, but not quite the cause of her distance.  He was surprised when she shrugged.

 

“I feel… lonely,” she said, leaning into him.

 

Gary was thankful for the canopy of layers of gauze that hung over their seat, blocking them from the sun, because it also partially masked them from the view of the other boaters; he was not fond of displaying his affection for the world to see.  But in this case, he could not resist embracing his wife and kissing her soundly, or gently caressing her pale cheek.

 

“Lexa is fine,” he assured her.  “Mother and Father were looking forward to taking care of her—you know they had no intention to come out in this heat.”

 

She smiled almost gratefully, but then shook her head.  “I was not thinking of the dear girl, though now you’ve filled my head with worries of your father playing too roughly with her.”  She stared through the sheer curtains again, at an ornate barge upriver; it was the king and queen’s boat.

 

“Is he happy?” she whispered.

 

“Jon?” Gary asked incredulously.  “I’ve never seen him better.  The kingdom is finally heading toward the kind of prosperity he’s been waiting eight years for, with potential alliances with Galla and the Yamani Islands, and the almanacs predict a good crop this year, and we’ve got the information compiled from the most recent cens—”

 

“No,” Cythera cut him off.  “Raoul.”

 

“Oh.”

 

From where he sat he could see Raoul standing near Jonathan, surveying security and looking like the perfect model of the knight commander of the King’s Own.  He seemed so distant and somehow larger than he had ever been before.  Every so often Gary would see a quick smile or exchange shared between him and one of his men, or a member of the Rider unit the queen had put on display.

 

Raoul had changed over the last few years.  He was more distant, but at the same time, much more approachable for the rest of the nobility.  It wasn’t that Raoul wasn’t intentionally more agreeable than he had been in the past, it was that he had stopped drinking.  In fact, the last time anyone had seen him drunk was at Gary’s wedding.

 

“Do you think he’s happy?” Cythera asked, pulling Gary from his memories.

 

“I don’t know,” Gary said honestly.  They had spoken little since his wedding.  Certainly, during meetings with Jonathan’s council, they had conversed.  An aura of congeniality still emanated from them, to the point that even the king, Gary’s closest friend and favorite cousin, believed little to have changed between them.

 

But Gary missed Raoul—as a friend, a confidante, even as a lover.  He was more than happy, sharing his life with Cythera.  But there were still times when he missed Raoul’s practical advice, or even his brutal kisses.

 

He felt Cythera’s eyes on him.  “Are you happy?” she asked.  “Or do you miss him as much as I do?”

 

Conflicting emotions assaulted Gary.  On one hand, he was relieved to know that his wife understood him.  But on the other, he was reminded of his irrational jealousies from their courting days: he was disturbed by her liason with Raoul, though he had his own.

 

He sighed.  “Of course I miss him.  But I would never give up what we have so that I might be with him again.”  His tone was low and gruff, and it surprised Gary to finally be able to voice sentiments he’d spent so many hours deliberating years ago.

 

“Nor would I,’ Cythera agreed instantly. 

 

An awkward silence hung between the two of them.

 

“I would, however…” Cythera began, but trailed off.  She wrung her hands, still staring at the royal barge with an expression of longing.

 

“You want him, too?”  Gary asked in an even voice, despite his racing heartbeat.

 

His wife nodded.

 

“Should I talk to him?”

 

Her eyes darted to his, wide with what he could only describe as panic.  It was one thing to suggest sharing their marital bed with a former lover; it was another thing entirely to make it happen.

 

“No,” she whispered.

 

Gary felt his edginess dissipate.  He hadn’t realized how unnerved the conversation had made him.  But at the same time, disappointment arose.  Did he want to spend a night with both Cythera and Raoul?

 

Life with Cythera had been pleasant since Lexa’s birth, but nights were less passionate.  Their days were filled with the new duties of parenthood in addition to their already-rigorous schedules.  There was little time to dedicate to their romantic lives, nor even wonder where the spark had gone. 

 

Looking at his wife’s longing expression, focused again on Raoul, Gary had to wonder if this was what she needed.  What he needed.  And—perhaps—even what Raoul needed?  His own gazed settled on Raoul, and he was surprised to see those dark eyes resting on him.  They flicked to Cythera and back, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

 

Gary felt himself flush, but kept his eyes on Raoul.  He wondered if his face showed half the passion Cythera’s did—and if that were the case, could Raoul even miss their unasked question?

 

An expression of distaste distorted Raoul’s features.  He shook his head with an aura of disgust before stomping out of sight.

 

Go on to Chapter 6