Three days passed in slow, bitter fashion as Cassia fulfilled every responsibility and played every part she was expected to. 

The first day, she went to the small gathering her mother had planned—one of many she oversaw every year—meant to present the young nobility to the court, and to each other.

To her displeasure, Julianus was not in attendance, though she didn't dare inquire as to why. While the subtle tide of rumor was what she wanted, she knew there was very little standing between a gentle swell and a vicious riptide. 

She smiled politely and danced and ate and laughed merrily, because it was either that or be asked repeatedly why she was so sullen. To her mother, court was nothing more than a string of parties to be planned, enjoyed and recovered from.

If it wasn't a party it was some other small function, full of decadent self-importance and hopeful young men.

The party lasted a day and well into the night.

The second day, Cassia struggled valiantly through a pounding headache despite the fact that she had drunk very little. She slipped into a court session, listening to the judiciary debate law and decide punishments until the strange, nearly startled glances from the men of the bench became more than her temper could handle.

Still, it was a weekly ritual she subjected herself to as she tried to stay abreast of the ever-changing laws and policies of the empire. She made her way briskly to her rooms, recording what she had heard, pondering over it as she decided which laws were worth keeping and which shouldn't even be discussed. 

Her father had levied more taxes on the Mortanian province.

That same day she sat quietly through a history lesson with her tutor—one revolving around the female Heirs before her, all of whom had abdicated to a male sibling, supposedly as dictated by the gods. She spent the lesson vacillating between wondering if her father had been somehow responsible for this and daydreaming about the golden skin of Julianus' muscular chest. 

It was a subtle agony, she had learned, to want to be touched—held—in the way Julianus had touched her, to know there was someone willing to do just that, and be unable to indulge in that person.

The third day, Malitech left for Mortania amid a crowd of red-and-gold liveried guards holding flags and standards. There was much pomp and circumstance as Cassia stood beside her father upon the threshold of the castle, as he and her mother bid Malitech luck and glory.

Cassia finally caught a glimpse of Julianus that day. He was standing in a shadow cast by the castle wall, leaning heavily on a crutch. His eyes were dark and hooded as he watched the prancing horses and jovial crowds, and she wondered if he could taste war on the wind as he slowly turned and hobbled back into the castle.

The send-off turned into a rally of sorts, the city celebrating their king, his Heir and the empire that had stood for centuries. Cassia had stayed by her father's side, and he'd had too much to drink by the time the politicians and lords had started speaking of strategy to worry about shooing her from the conversations at hand.

Such a rare opportunity had left her with an eclectic knowledge of the Mortanian landscape and several burning questions on the guerilla tactics of the Brunian warriors. It had also resulted in her staying up until the sun had peeked through the windows of her father's meeting hall and the nobility had ambled to bed.

A lazy day at the castle would be in order.

Cassia snatched a few hours of sleep, only waking when a western sun peered into her rooms. Shafts of soft sunlight danced through the thick red curtains as she lounged in bed, pleasantly drowsy still.

Finally, she got out of bed, putting on a simple shift dress. The soft linen was dyed a rich, expensive purple, but was still rather poor in comparison to what she generally wore. 

It did not require the aid of anyone else to put on, and that was all that mattered as she looped a belt of braided gold around her waist, the woven metal resting heavily on her hips.

The bell sleeves were heavy, dropping to her knees, but it was still more comfortable than the majority of her closet.

Cassia downed another vial of the contraceptive brew, already aching in anticipation. When she had decided she would wait three days to see him again, she had not anticipated that her body would dislike that plan.

Quietly, she slipped from her chambers, opting as always to use the servants' passageways. Cassia had asked the Brunian woman to find which rooms Julianus was staying in when she had delivered her dry sheets. When she had returned with an answer mapped out on a piece of paper and a sly grin, Cassia had not been exactly comforted by the fact that she couldn't speak Metian.

Still, Cassia had thanked her and paid her with a fruit-filled pastry that she took her time savoring.

His rooms were only two floors above hers, in the same wing of the castle.

She didn't bother knocking.

The first thing that snagged her attention was the general's cloak splayed carelessly on the floor in front of the fireplace directly across from the door. The second was the sword propped in an armchair by one of the large windows. The third was the open door leading to his bedchamber.

Julianus lay in bed, his foot propped up on a pillow, a book resting on his bare chest. His eyes were closed, and as she entered the room and drew nearer, she could see the dark fan of his lashes. The blankets were draped over his hips, affording just enough modesty that Cassia didn't immediately blush as she looked at him.

His ankle wasn't swollen, but it was several interesting shades of purple, blue and black.

"I was wondering if you would come," Julianus murmured, eyes still closed. "I must confess to some loneliness, Your Highness. Haven't you any sympathy for an injured man?"

With a sigh, Cassia sat on the edge of his bed, and he cracked an eye open, watching her through his lashes. A small smile played at the side of his mouth, drawing her attention to the bruise still present. He closed the book and tossed it across the room with precision to land on a padded windowseat, framed by curtains of deep emerald.

"Poor soldier," Cassia crooned, brushing her fingers over the bruise on his face. He opened his other eye as she touched his mouth, then traced her fingers down the scar on the side of his neck to his chest. "How might I express my sympathy?"

The smooth slide of his skin under her fingers made every daydream she'd had explode through her mind. Memories of his warrior's body had been plaguing her for these past three days. She slowly met his eyes to find a smile halfway between arrogance and hunger. 

His fingers toyed with the heavy sleeve of her dress and she edged closer to him as he propped himself up on an elbow. 

"I am very sure you have a few ideas of your own, Your Highness," Julianus said, his throat bobbing as she traced the line down his muscular abdomen, stopping just at the white sheet that covered him.

Cassia smiled and turned her back to him. "What happened?"

He tugged slowly at the ties holding the dress together in the back. "I've a weak ankle," he said, kissing the skin beneath as each tie was undone.

Cassia snorted, even as her eyes fluttered closed at the heat of his mouth. "What about your face?"

Julianus got to the last tie and stopped. She shuddered as he drew a finger up the column of her spine, but he didn't attempt to remove the dress. A wicked chuckle brushed against the back of her neck and he murmured, "Does it matter? I doubt my face is your favorite part of me anyway."

A laugh clawed its way out of her, delighted and surprised and genuine. She turned back to face him, the shoulder of her dress slipping to reveal her light-honey skin. Julianus' eyes flicked down to where her collarbone had been revealed, then back to her face. Her loose hair slid over her back as she shook her head.

"Arrogant lord," she said with another laugh. "Who's to say anything of yours is a favorite of mine?"

All he did was offer a feline smile as he peeled the dress away, snarling when it stopped at her waist. Cassia snickered and stood, liking the hungry look that never left his eyes. Slowly, she undid the golden clasp, letting the dress slither to the floor.

Julianus lunged forward and snatched her wrist, pulling her over the top of him. Her free hand splayed over his chest, fingers digging into his skin as he licked the side of her throat. She kicked the blankets away and he hissed, swearing under his breath when they caught at his foot, jarring his ankle.

Cassia froze with guilt, trying to ignore the heat rampaging through her body. "I...I shouldn't have come," she breathed. "You're injured."

His fingers dug into her hips as she moved to get off of him. That indolent, smoldering smile graced his face again. His eyes were nearly black, burning like coals. "Not that injured, Your Highness," he said, his voice a deep growl.

As before, she let him guide her, lips parting in shock and pleasure when he groaned. Nearly bewildered, she stared down at him, hands still planted on his solid chest.

Julianus was patient, and thorough, until he didn't have to be. Then, his hands wandered over her as she let her head fall back. Everywhere he touched burned hot, driving Cassia into a blissfully unthinking frenzy.

He gripped her hips and she looked down at him. "Slow," he purred. "We're in no rush, Cassia."

She shattered at the sound of her name on his lips. The only thing anchoring her was his hands. Julianus continued to touch her, encouraging and guiding nearly every motion of her body.

Pleasure radiated to her very fingertips and eventually she managed to drag him over the same cliff as she fell a second time. It took a moment to gather herself before she collapsed to the side of him, panting into the sheets that smelled of his body.

The room was quiet aside from their ragged breathing as Cassia lay on her stomach beside him.

She pillowed her head on her arms, watching as he dragged a hand through his black hair. Then his head lolled to the side and he offered her a half smile. Cassia reached out, again stroking the bruise at the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me something true," she murmured.

Julianus snorted, then let his fingers graze the side of her breast. "I love these," he rasped. "It took more willpower than I care to admit not to stare when I first saw you."

"Charming," she replied dryly, but it wasn't unpleasant, his blatant admittance. "Now tell me something real."

With a raised eyebrow, he put his arms behind his head. "That is not how we play this game, Your Highness."

Cassia smirked, letting her eyes fall half closed. "I like your mouth best."

"Pardon?" A laugh was hidden behind the word.

She looked at him. "Your mouth. That is the part of you I like best."

Now he laughed for real, the sound deep and amused and genuine. She decided she liked the sound. Julianus reached for her, but she grabbed his wrist and turned his arm, studying two scars just above his elbow, each about an inch long.

Nearly identical scars were on the ball of his shoulder.

"Mortanian arrows, they're barbed," he said when she touched the scars just above his elbow. "When they pierce you, you can't pull them back out. You have to push them through. These were the first wounds I ever received in battle. First the elbow, then the shoulder. I was barely fifteen."

Cassia's lips parted in horror. Men had to be eighteen before they could join the military in Metus.

He touched the scars on his shoulder thoughtfully, memory flashing in the depths of his dark eyes. But then he was shaking the past away, giving her a rueful smile.

Cassia's mind danced around the inquiry she most wanted to ask, but then something in her quailed and she blurted, "What happened to your face?"

Another smile twitched at his mouth and he lightly touched the bruise, pressing on it thoughtfully. "Tell me who that man was and I'll tell you what happened."

"Man?" Cassia asked blankly. "What man?"

"Poor bastard," Julianus observed. "The one you were sitting with in that hall. The one with that ridiculously large painting of your great-great grandfather fighting a minotaur."

She laughed. "That's Veritus Auralius in that painting, he was alive two hundred years ago, and it was a chimera, not a minotaur."

"I...don't care," he said, though amusement was evident in his voice. "Who was the man you were talking to?"

Cassia chewed on her lip. She had seen Elias every so often around the castle—both at her mother's party and last night in the meeting hall—but had kept their interactions successfully short and relatively painless for now. 

"Just a friend from long ago," she said softly, not quite able to hide the sadness welling in her. "Elias Lucans."

Julianus stiffened at the surname. "Lucans?" he questioned. "As in—"

"As in the son of Gaius Lucans, yes." Cassia sat up, wrapping the sheets around her as the sweat cooling on her skin made her shiver. "Before... Well, he was someone I was quite fond of, once."

Julianus did not ask, and she was grateful. Instead, he made a small sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. "And your father let a coward's son come into the castle?"

"Elias isn't his father," she said, more harshly than she'd intended. But she couldn't really blame someone like Julianus for his contempt. Not when bravery was a virtue exalted above all others in Metus. Softening her tone, she said, "He's a lieutenant in the navy. It would seem we are not always destined to be our fathers."

Julianus had the grace to bow his head in silent acknowledgement. Then his mouth quirked in a different kind of contempt. "The navy?" he said lightly. "So he's a lieutenant of over-paid fishermen?"

Cassia didn't grace that with a statement. She'd expected as much from someone who had served so many years in the army. Silence, not of an uncomfortable sort, settled around them and Cassia raised a brow.

He copied the motion, then grinned, once more touching the bruise. With a sigh, he said, "After I left your rooms, I still couldn't sleep. I went down to the guards' training pits and one of the guards picked a fight." He shrugged. "It's not getting hit that I mind. It's that he put me lame for a month according to the court physician."

This drew her attention back to his ankle, and she reached over until she could touch the tender skin. Julianus didn't so much as flinch, even when she pressed a little harder on the blackened flesh than she'd meant to. Then she turned her head, grinning.

"Should I leave you to heal, then?" she asked innocently.

Julianus grabbed her arm and gently tugged her down until her head rested on his chest. "You say the strangest things, Your Highness." His fingers traced over her lower back. "Besides, I don't think you'd be able to stay away for a month."

That produced a snort, but she didn't bother denying the words. She liked the truth that seemed to come so naturally with Julianus too much to break it over something so stupid.

She could speak the truth to him, and he did the same, something that made her crave his company as much as she did his body.

"One more truth," she said tentatively.

Julianus shifted and sighed. "What kind of truth would you like?"

"Any, my lord." She closed her eyes. "Just one before I have to return to the lies this court feeds on."

Her nerve was beginning to slip from her, when she could least afford it to. But there was something very vulnerable in laying here like this with him. She realized she didn't want to ruin whatever this was before it even had a chance.

Julianus sighed again. "I think your brother is going to reignite the war in Mortania. I think being on two fronts will make us lose ground in both Brunia and Mortania, and that the blood spilled there will have been for nothing. And I think your father is an idiot for sending that preening prick instead of you."

Her breath lodged in her throat and she sat up to look at him. To really study his face, his eyes. There was no guile there, no well-meaning kindness. His eyes were grim, his mouth a hard line and she could feel he truly meant what he said.

How refreshing.

"I want you to teach me how to use a sword." The words were over her tongue and past her lips before she let herself falter again.

Julianus' lips parted and his brows pulled together. Then he sat up, scooting back to lean against the pillows that had been shoved against the dark wood of the headboard. She lifted her chin as he stared.

"You...what?" he asked, and her heart began to sink. Then Julianus laughed, sparking anger, which was just as quickly cooled when he shrugged and said, "Judging by the guards, you probably need someone who can show you the finer aspects of swordplay." 

His grin turned wicked and he lifted a hand, curling a finger as he motioned for her to come closer. Cassia resisted for a moment, then let out a soft growl and shuffled forward. She let out a mewl of indignation when he pulled her over the top of him again, but all he did was begin to play with her soft hair.

"What would be in it for me, Your Highness?" he asked, that wicked grin still in place.

Her mouth dropped open. Was he being serious? The edge of his smile turned teasing, and she realized the answer.

A wicked smile of her own answered his, and she stretched out over the top of him, kissing him. His lips parted and she tasted his mouth, fingers carding through his short hair. Then she pulled away. "Would you like to tie this request in to our previous deal?"

Julianus snickered and rolled them both onto their sides, his hand resting in the curve of her waist. He spoke between kisses when he said, "I'd much prefer we keep them separate, and simply have you come to my bed more often." 

"Arrogant lord," she muttered against his mouth before she pulled back, placing her fingers over his lips to keep him from kissing her. "Will you teach me?"

Julianus shrugged carelessly, then nodded. "I can certainly help hone what you already know, and I wouldn't mind a sparring partner."

Relief flooded through Cassia, just as quickly followed by confusion. She propped herself up on an elbow. Then her lips parted and she flopped back onto the bed, hiding her face against his shoulder with a groan. "I think you misunderstand, my lord," she gritted out. "I am not asking for a sparring partner to sharpen what I know. I am asking for a teacher because I know nothing."

A jolt traveled through Julianus, shaking the bed. Then he was gripping her arm and pulling her to a sitting position. His fingers were gentle on her arms, but his eyes were beyond furious as he growled, "Nothing?"

She shook her head, angry tears burning behind her eyes. It was impossible to keep her voice steady when she said, "My father didn't think it a necessary skill...for a woman. He banned anyone from teaching me." Her voice turned to a snarl. "I told you once, my lord, that my father does not wish me to wear the crown."

Julianus gaped at her. "You mean to tell me he would have sent you beyond the castle walls unable to defend yourself?" he asked faintly.

She looked away, her fingers knotting into the sheets. "I mean to tell you that my father has wanted me dead from the moment I was born." Now she met his grim gaze. "I mean to tell you I have five months to learn how to use a sword." A breathless pause as she gathered her nerve. "And I mean to tell you that I want you to do more than warm my bed, Lord Julianus. I want you to risk your life so I might have a chance to win my place upon the throne."

Silence once more settled around them.

Cassia's heart was in her throat as she looked into his bleak eyes.