It's not until the woman and the two soldiers escorting her begin to descend the steps to the main deck that Emilio speaks again.

"What do you want?" he says. "In exchange for her life?"

He stands before me, the breeze playing with his hair, throwing it in his face. He brushes the wayward strands away awkwardly with his tied-up hands, and glances over his shoulder. The woman and her convoy can't be seen anymore. He turns back to me.

"Come on, speak up! What do you want?"

"What any man wants from his wife?" I say.

He glares at me for a long moment.

"Compliance?" he says at last.

I nod. He frowns, then glances to where the woman has disappeared, then back at me, his eyes furious and pleading at the same time.

"You will do as I tell you." Every word must feel like a lash of a whip to him, so I speak slowly, savoring the effect. "You won't argue or speak up or try to attack me. In exchange, I'll take good care of you." I smile. "Maybe you'll like it. My other wives do."

A ruckus of excited voices reaches us from the main deck, where some of the sailors must have gathered to watch the execution. Emilio looks wildly in that direction, then back at me. The others at the table sit quietly, watching the spectacle.

"All right," he blurts at last. "I'll do it, all right? Tell them to stop."

"Do you promise?" I lean forward, fixing him with my eyes. I'm a little surprised this has worked. That woman must mean something to him—he wouldn't offer himself just to save some random whore. Nobody is that kind. "Do I have your word?"

"Yes," he snaps, all impatience now that the decision has been made.

"Fine," I say. "Let's test it. Ask nicely."

He blinks, opens his mouth, then closes it again and takes a deep breath. Then he looks down, probably to conceal his anger rather than to show respect.

"Please, my king, have mercy," he says slowly, as if the combination of words is hard for his mouth to produce. "Let that poor woman live, as you have promised."

He can't quite suppress the hissing accentuation of the last word. Messenio chuckles, clearly impressed by him sneaking a slight offence even into a seemingly harmless address. Emilio ignores him and just stands there, his head bowed.

I catch Sagaristio's eye and nod. He gets up immediately and walks over to the railing.

"Hey," he shouts, raising his hands to draw the attention of the people on the deck below. "The king has decided to grant her life. Just lock her back up. And these, too." He nods dismissively at the rest of the weeping women before returning to the table.

I look at Emilio.

"Come here," I say.

He walks over and stops in front of me. Without breaking the eye contact I reach aside and pick the dagger from the table. Then I grab him by the rope tying his arms together, pull him closer and begin to cut at his binds. Moments later, pieces of the rope fall to his feet.

I let him go and he takes one involuntary step back before stopping and rubbing his wrists. I turn the dagger around in my hand and offer it to him, handle first.

"Slice me a pear," I say.

He looks briefly back at the women being escorted away, then at me, then at the dagger. Then, he takes it. It's quiet now on the deck, except for the sounds of the wind and the waves and the flapping and the creaking of the different parts of the ship. My companions watch us silently. The tension is palpable as all eyes rest on Emilio and the dagger.

He turns it in his hands, looking it over. Then he steps to the table and reaches for the bowl with fruits. We've just sailed yesterday, so our menu is still rich with all the fresh food that's been brought to the ships. In a week's time, it will all be eaten or go rotten, and we'll be back to dried supplies, but for now, each meal is a feast.

Emilio picks a ripe pear, red and yellow, and examines it. His expression is dreamy now, as if he's not quite here. He turns the pear around in his fingers and then he cuts it in half, starting at the stem, working carefully with the dagger that's a bit too long for the job. When finished, he puts the dagger down and twists each side of the pear until it pulls apart in two halves.

"Come here," I say, and pat my thigh. "Sit down."

There's only the barest of hesitation before he obeys. Messenio chuckles quietly as Emilio comes over and sits on my lap, his eyes cast down. With his delicate bone structure, he doesn't weight too much. The rope has left his thin wrists reddened and chuffed as I notice when he raises one hand, offering me a half of the fruit.

"Good job," I say, taking it and bringing it to his own lips. "Now eat it. You must be hungry."

Ours eyes meet again. There's a momentary resentment in his, but it immediately gets glazed over by that new dreamy look of his. Slowly, he tilts his head and brings his face to the pear. His lips close softly around it, sucking on the juice. He licks at it briefly, and then sucks on it again, looking me square in the eye.

There's something surprisingly seductive about the way he's doing this. Each small wet noise he makes as his mouth works on the fruit makes my body react. His lips brush my fingers holding the fruit, and wrap around my thumb, his eyes never leaving mine. I'm half expecting a bite, but he sucks on it instead.

"Oh," says Messenio.

"All right, that's enough." I take my hand away, drop what has remained of the pear on the deck, and force a laugh. "You sure know how to eat pears. I'll give you that."

"I wouldn't mind if you took care of my pears that way," chimes in Messenio, earning a frown from me.

"Enough," I repeat, trying to steady my breath and figure how what was meant to be a point of humiliation for Emilio has somehow turned against me.

He's watching me expressionlessly now, but I can bet there's a twinkle of amused satisfaction in the depth of his green eyes.

"You'll be escorted to my quarters now," I say. "You'll have a bath and a proper meal, and I will join you in the evening."

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