The weather is fine, so I order to serve the dinner on the forecastle deck. When I arrive, the table is already set, and my generals are waiting for me. They get up as I come over to the heavy oak chair standing with its back to the bowsprit. I nod at them and sit down, facing them and the rest of the ship.

Steady breeze cools my neck and ruffles my hair. The rocking of the ship makes the utensils on the table clang occasionally. The wine sloshes in the bottles. I reach out and pick a loaf of bread, and, on that cue, the others sit down and begin to fill their plates.

I sink my teeth into the bread and wince at the pain in my lower lip. I've cleaned it up with wine before I went to bed, and then again in the morning, but it still hurts. The reddened skin clearly shows the imprint of two teeth. If it was a little lower, it would have been hidden by my beard, but no such luck.

"Had a wild night?" says Messenio from across the table, eyeing the bite mark. Some of the others chuckle quietly, avoiding looking at me. I shake my head with mock reproach, but I can't be mad at them. Most of them have been my friends before becoming my soldiers and then my generals, others have seen me grow up as they served my father. I rely on their friendship as much as my father did on their blind obedience.

"Wilder than you think," I say, putting the bread down and picking some grapes.

"Is he any good?"

"How is that your business?"

"Curiosity." Messenio's laughing eyes watch me over the rim of his goblet. "Officers' quarters aren't far from yours, yet I heard no cries for mercy. I figure you took it easy on him."

"That horse will need some breaking," I say, "before it becomes a good ride."

"If you need any help, let me know."

"Leave him alone," says Sagaristio, who's sitting to my right. "You know he doesn't share. He screws the royal blood and we get the scrapes."

"You get what you choose to take," I say, chewing.

"That we do." He nods. "We had a fine selection from their brothels, you know? Want to have a look?"

I frown. "You brought whores to my ship?"

Their hilarity subsides a notch as they sense overstepping their boundaries, my aversion to whores being well known.

"They're mostly on the other ships," says Tycho, a big, bald man, probably the only one aged over fifty at this table. "Will make fine servants. Some looked clean enough, though, so the boys brought them here. You should take a look." He gestures for one of the soldiers who's watching us from a respectful distance. The man nods and retreats to bring their catch.

I shrug, displeased. "You should keep the men focused, not messing about."

"Like you're not messing about?" Messenio points at my lower lip again with the chicken leg he's holding. I frown at him, but he seems unimpressed. "I hope you've punished him for biting you—or did it happen in the throes of passion?"

"It's nothing."

"Nothing? You can barely eat." He grins. "At the very least, leave him without dinner, too."

"Actually, I don't think he's eaten anything since we've fetched him from the castle. Hey, you—bring him over," I say to one of the men lingering behind my chair. "You should see his attitude," I tell Messenio as the servant hurries away. "Like he has a say in anything. Like he's the king."

"Interesting." He raises his eyebrows.

We eat in silence for a few more minutes before the man comes back. He's escorting Emilio, who has his hands bound together in front of him. I have ordered to put him in chains for the night, more as an educational measure than a necessity. That's something I've never done to any of my wives, though, so everybody at the table go quiet, eyeing the unusual restraint.

"You should have put a muzzle on him, too," comments Messenio. "Teach him some bite prohibition."

The circles under Emilio's eyes hint at a sleepless night. He's still wearing his outfit from the last night, and I make a mental note to order giving him a new set of clothes. He should bath, too. Being the newest addition to the royal harem, he should look accordingly.

He stops in front of us and looks at the table and the six men around it. His expression is that of a feigned boredom, but I notice how his eyes pause, almost imperceptibly, on the dagger sticking out of the platter with meats. By the way some of my men shift in their places, I'm not the only one who's noticed. There's an air of expectation about them, as if they're willing him to try something.

His eyes finally meet mine, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Join us," I say.

"You can take my place." Messenio jumps up and gestures at his chair.

"No need," says Emilio, not moving.

"But why, it's a pleasure to serve my fair queen." That elicits quiet chuckles from the rest of the men. "Do honor me." Messenio moves his chair invitingly. "Or perhaps you can't sit?"

The suppressed laughter bursts out all around the table. Even I can't help but smile, but Emilio doesn't move a muscle.

"I'm not hungry," he says as the hilarity dies down.

"Still, grace us with your company," I say.

He doesn't move. There's an awkward pause before Messinio walks over and stops behind him. We all watch the look of unease spreading across Emilo's face. He shifts uncomfortably, then glances back at Messenio, who smiles at him pleasantly. Emilio looks away, clearly expecting some foul play from the man behind him.

"I'm not doing anything," says Messenio sweetly. "Just standing here."

Emilio glances at him again, then rolls his eyes and walks over to the vacant chair. He plops onto it, rather ungracefully, his coordination impaired by his tied-up hands, and then looks me square in the eye.

"Eat," I say.

"Fuck you," he says.

"Is that what you want?" I smile at him pleasantly. "I thought you found me unattractive."

"Still do."

His eyes wander down to the food on the table, its smell probably irresistible now that he's so hungry and so close to it. Then, he forces his gaze back to me.

"Your starving yourself doesn't punish me, you know," I say.

He shrugs and then looks away at the sound of multiple feet mounting the steps to the forecastle deck. The head of the soldier pops up, the one who's been sent to bring the women taken from the Lotinen brothels.

Then, the women appear. One by one, they step onto the deck, their hands tied in front of them like Emilio's. I have no interest in them, so I look at Emilio as he watches them line up, and it doesn't escape my attention how his eyes widen briefly at one of them.