Adri

“Geldry?”

Adri felt his way along the bed. His hand found his wife’s foot, and he hesitated. She appeared to be still, and from the faint sound of her breathing, seemed to be asleep. He started to rise again, suddenly overcome by the urge to remove himself from her presence, to be anywhere but here. He was not prepared to do this, to meet with her so soon after . . . after committing infidelity. He was too confused by his own feelings. He needed time to sort through them, to make sense of what had happened tonight, what he had done.

He stood up and started to make his way back toward the doorway. Yes, he would leave her be now, spend the rest of the night in his sky chamber, resting, recovering in the serene environment designed to promote mindfulness and healing. Perhaps tomorrow he would come see her. The maids had said she was well, merely resting, so there was no reason to be concerned. He needed some time alone, apart from her.

The worst thing was, he didn’t feel guilty. He knew he should feel guilty, terribly remorseful and ashamed of himself for what he had done. Slept with another woman. A maid, at that. Someone he barely knew, had never spoken a word to until today, apart from asking for a drink of water or for refreshments, or some such routine request. Someone he had never given a thought to until the moment he woke in her room and found himself naked in bed with her. He had cheated on his wife, defiled the sanctity of their marriage vows, and he ought to feel horrible for having done that.

Instead, he felt refreshed, liberated, more relaxed than he had been in years, perhaps in his entire life. He felt so content, so satisfied, so much at ease. The lovemaking had been wonderful, like nothing he had ever experienced before, but that was only part of it. The real reason had been the way she had accepted him, joined with him, treated him as a lover, a man, an intimate friend, without judgment, rancor, emotional entanglement, or complication. There were no ulterior considerations, no thinking about wealth and power, the alliances between tribes and nations, the state of the empire, no concern about the difference between their peoples, between her status and his, no care that he was the prince of the great Burnt Empire and she a lowly maid. Just two bodies meeting in the night, two souls mating. The heat of passion, the fire of arousal, the mutual quenching of desire. They had been man and woman, nothing more, nothing less.

And it had left him feeling wonderful. Like a man, a prince, a king, an emperor. And in that moment of ecstasy, Sauvali had been his woman, his princess, his queen, his empress. It did not matter that she had no title and would never have one. All that mattered was what they were to one another in those most intimate, most private moments in the darkness and privacy of her room.

For the first time in his life, Adri felt whole, complete, desired, needed. Sauvali had needed him at that moment. She had wanted his body on hers, his mouth on her breasts, his lingam in her yoni, his seed inside herself. And he had given her what she wanted, he had aroused her, and he had satisfied her. That simple act, uncomplicated by politics, concerns of wealth, status, family ties, imperial alliances, had been so fulfilling, so satisfying; he had never realized life could have such pleasures.

It was to preserve that feeling that he wanted to withdraw from Geldry for a while, from his marriage.

To savor the pleasure. To enjoy this delicious state of abandonment he was in right now.

Suddenly, none of the cares and worries that had weighed him down yesterday mattered anymore. The politics of the empire, the line of succession, Shvate’s military accomplishments, his own lack of military victories, the power imbalance between himself and his elders—the question of who really ran the empire, the never-ending pressure from Geldry on him to wield more power, make more decisions, exert more influence. Urging him to take the throne as was his birthright. The constant harping about how brilliant her brother Kune was as a political advisor, how Adri should take his advice, let the man guide his political career.

But Adri didn’t even want a political career! He was content to let each person do what they did best: Shvate fight the battles, Vrath run the empire, Mother Jilana hold court. Hastinaga was powerful, wealthy, stable, at peace—or as much at peace as any great empire ever could be. There was no need to change things. Why not simply live? Enjoy the power and wealth they had been given. They were so privileged to be born in such a House, while millions starved, suffering terrible, unspeakable abuse, prejudice, disenfranchisement, and misery. Adri and Geldry had everything anyone could ever want from life already. What had they to fight for? Why not simply live and enjoy the bounty they had been given? Give thanks and blessings for the abundance?

Sauvali, on the other hand, had almost nothing and was perfectly content with her lot. Even though they had not spoken of her circumstances, he had sensed that contentment within her. Heard it in her lack of complaint. Felt it in her ability to give herself over so completely to pleasure and the moment.

Geldry lacked those qualities. She was constantly chasing, wanting, demanding . . . She was the kind of woman who would have everything and then one day see a neighbor with a flower she had just plucked, or a hair color that was different, or anything, the slightest thing, and she would want it too. Demand it to the point where if she did not get that thing at once, she would become adamant, defiant, mean, angry. Adri had known her to fly into rages over something some courtier had remarked about her appearance, or her garb, or a savory served at a feast, and Geldry would simmer and seethe until Adri and she returned to their chambers, then explode with suppressed rage and discontent. She would speak of killing the woman or man who had made the remark, of gouging their eyes out, cutting off their tongue, slaughtering their entire clan, reacting so disproportionately to the single critical remark that Adri often wondered if that was how she had been raised in Geldran: to wreak havoc on anyone who crossed her with even a single misspoken word. He knew Geldrans were proud and fierce to the point of instant violence when challenged, but the Geldrans he had known had also prided themselves on their self-control, discipline, and extreme courtesy. Geldry put paid to that cultural image: Adri realized that her family was the kind likely to start a feud over an unkind word, or punish the slightest offense, even one given inadvertently.

It made Adri uncomfortable in the extreme. At times, he wanted to simply walk away from her when she was in such a mood. He couldn’t endure such violent outbursts. As it was, by virtue of being deprived of sight, his other senses were extremely sensitive, and Geldry’s emotional explosions were like an assault on his senses, reducing him to a quivering bundle of nerves whenever they erupted. It often took him days to recover from one of her outbursts.

So it was with no guilt, no remorse, no shame that he sought now to withdraw himself from her presence, if only for a while. He would see about the future later; the present was still so placid, so beautiful, he wanted to savor the afterglow of his night with Sauvali for as long as possible.

He was almost at the doorway when he heard a soft voice call his name.

“Adri.”

The voice was so soft, so unlike Geldry, that he thought that someone else had called him, someone from outside the chamber. It could not be Geldry. But it was.

“Adri . . . are you there?”

He stood still for a moment, weighing his options. Perhaps he could simply walk out, pretend he had not heard. Perhaps she had not actually seen him, had only heard the sound of his feet shuffling. He could walk out, go to his akasa chamber, enjoy the few hours left in the night in solitude, then when the sun rose, feel its warm embrace, bask in its warmth, relive the pleasures of the night over and over. He felt that if he did this, if he withdrew into himself and spent some time alone, he would drift naturally to a place wherefrom he could make sense of his entire existence, see the way ahead more clearly, have a better command of the future and what he wanted to do with his life. He felt more certain of this than he had ever felt about anything before.

“Adri . . . ?”

He sighed, turned, walked slowly back into the room.

Later, in the days, weeks, months, and years to come . . . the decades even . . . he would always remember this moment. This turning point in his life. The one time he was walking away from what was toward what could be. The moment when he was poised on the cusp of the past and the future. When he felt as if he had some control of his own existence. When he could change things by changing himself. When he felt himself changing from within, and all he had to do was go along with it. Let it ripen and grow naturally, simply nurturing the change and letting what would be be.

The moment when he could have changed who he was and become who he really wanted to be.

And instead, he had stayed back with Geldry.

“I’m here,” he said quietly.

He stood there, closer to the doorway than to the bed, waiting.

“Come to me,” she said.

He shuffled forward, finding his way back to the bed, then stood beside it.

“Sit,” she said.

He sat.

“Give me your hand,” she said.

He gave her his hand.

“Adri, what happened tonight was wonderful. It was so beautiful and incredible, I don’t have words to describe it.”

At first he could not understand what she was talking about. He thought she was speaking of something that had happened earlier, before they had gone to bed. It made no sense at all, because he could barely remember anything before waking up in bed beside Sauvali. It was as if, for him, a curtain had divided his life: Before Sauvali and After Sauvali, a life in two acts.

“When you made love to me, it was like nothing else I’ve felt before.”

A strange sensation began to chill his spine. He felt his hands grow cold, the blood fleeing them to return to his heart.

“Your passion, your strength, your virility . . . You were the man I always knew you were, the man I wanted you to be. My man. My Adri.”

He wanted to pull his hand away, to rush from the room, to scream, to cry out, to rage. Instead, he sat there, letting her hold his hand, listening to her voice in the night-shrouded bedchamber.

“And your virility was so masculine, so intense, I am certain that tonight, your seed flowered in my womb. I am sure that you impregnated me tonight, Adri. I can feel your child inside me. I am going to be the mother of your offspring. I am so certain of it, I cannot describe it in words. It is like a living thing already, alive and aware inside me, growing and flourishing. That is what I wanted you to know, Adri. That your seed has taken root inside my womb. Soon, I will bear you an heir. Many heirs. And together we will rule the empire.”

He listened without saying a word. There were no words to describe what he was feeling just then. Even the most honey-tongued court bards could not compose a poem that would express the emotions roiling inside of him in that moment.

He sat and listened as she talked and talked. Until she tired of talking. Until she fell asleep at last, breathing calmly, contentedly, leaving him the extreme opposite of calm and content.