"I think you're right."

Sagaristio walks over and stands next to me, looking at the dark city and the black waters of the bay. There's only some reflected moonlight to dilute the darkness. Apart from the occasional lights shimmering here and there in the windows, the city is deep asleep.

"We've searched his chambers and found a poison that resembles the one that has been used against you." He turns to peer at me. "It was my mistake. I have been investigating this and I haven't for a moment regarded him a suspect. In fact, I consulted him as an expert on poisons!" He hits his fist on the wooden windowsill. "An expert on poisons! I was so blinded by our friendship that I failed to make the connection."

"You trusted him," I say. "So did I. A man must trust someone."

He turns around, leaning with his lower back on the sill, and rubs his face tiredly.

"Could you ever imagine Messenio pulling out something like this?" he says at last.

"There were warning signs," I say. "He was ambitious, cocky and disrespectful. But he was also a brother and a friend."

Sagaristio shakes his head. "Unbelievable."

We stand there in silence for a while, the cool night air providing some welcomed chill.

"What will you do with him?" He nods in the direction of the door leading to the chamber that has been recently occupied by Narin. After coming back this afternoon, I have ordered for Emilio to be placed there instead. I haven't been there to see her reaction, nor did I care. He had to be alone for a while to recover, and I preferred for it to be somewhere close.

"What should I do with him?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Cheating is punished by death—just saying."

"He didn't cheat." I frown.

"Call it whatever you want, but he's no longer a virgin."

"I never expected him to be a virgin."

That isn't strictly the truth. Unlike with women, there was no way to check, but it was reasonable to assume that a prince, being able to get any girl he wanted, would by the age of eighteen have had a few. Yet I did assume that as far as love between men went, he was innocent. Which, as Sagaristio has pointed out, is not the case now.

"You've always been touchy about that virgin thing business," he says. "That's why I was surprised when you picked him over his sister."

I remember the flirty gaze and the innocent beauty of the girl standing by Bawdrick's throne. Many things would have gone differently have I picked her. For one, the poisoning attempt would likely have been successful. Then, I remember Emilo's pained look, his torn clothes, the scratches, bruises and the bite marks on his skin.

It would have been different for him, too.

"I won't execute him for having been raped. He'll recover, and then...I'll see."

"Send him somewhere out of sight, then." Sagaristio touches my arm lightly. "Send him to a remote province, make sure he remains there. It'll be bad for your reputation to keep him here at court after he's been with someone else. You know people will talk."

"He hasn't --" I cut myself short, and sigh with exasperation. As usual, he's talking sense. "I'll think about it."

"Good." He squeezes my arm and steps away. "You should get some sleep now. It has been an awful day."

I nod and watch him bow and head towards the door. I want to call out for him, to tell him that I appreciate his help, to thank him for being such a good friend, but I remain silent. Just this morning, I have thought of Messenio like this. I have believed he was my friend, too.

The door opens, the draft sending flames in the torches on the wall into a dance, and then I'm alone, wondering if I could—or should—ever trust anyone again.

Slowly, I remove my clothes, choosing to do it by myself instead of calling for a servant. I contemplate getting one to bring me a clean shirt to sleep in, for the logs in the fireplace have long since burned down, and the room is chilly. Yet as I stand naked in front of my bed, the thought of climbing under the cool furs, with or without a shirt, looks unappealing. I could call for Narin, to provide her particular kind of warming up, but, frankly, I'm too exhausted for that.

I look at the closed door leading to the adjacent chamber. After entrusting Emilio to the eunuchs to be cleaned up and fed and dressed, I haven't seen him. I could have easily checked how he was doing, and yet I haven't.

It suddenly strikes me that I've been avoiding him. Was it the feeling of guilt, or have I already, even before Sagaristio has suggested it, begun to banish him from my mind, unwilling to deal with what has partly been my fault?

My bare feet step silently on the cold stones as I approach the door and turn the key.

It's mostly dark inside. What little light gets in through the window illuminates the bed and the human shape in it, covered by furs. The room looks barren since Narin has taken away all her things, clothes and pillows. I walk over to the bed and sit down, waiting for my eyes to get used to the semidarkness.

Emilio lies on his side, his face turned away from me. I can see the gentle curve of his cheek and shadow from his long eyelashes and the strands of his hair that must have been washed and brushed by the eunuchs. There's a darker area under one eye, where the bruise is getting more visible. I reach out and touch it, my fingers encountering chaffed skin and some wetness.

"Are you crying?" I say.

"No."

There's a tell-tale strain in his voice. I contemplate asking him how he feels but decide against it.

"Do you need anything?" I say instead.

There's a long silence and I decide that he chose to ignore my question or perhaps fell asleep. Then he speaks again.

"Can you hold me?" he says it in a quick whisper, as if not trusting himself to finish the sentence if he spoke at his usual pace. "Please?"

Silently, I raise the furs and slip underneath. He's naked, just like I am, and yet when I wrap my arms around him, there's nothing else that I want to do but to lie next to him, the heat of his skin warming up my own tired, aching, confused body. I pull him closer, the curve of his body completing mine perfectly, and breath in the clean smell of his hair. He says nothing, but I can feel him relax gradually in my embrace, and so we lie, allowing the tiredness and the warmth to lull us to sleep.

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