I stride along the corridors, still rattled by my argument with Sagaristio. It wouldn't have bothered me much if not for the part of me that always wonders if I'm indeed paying enough attention to the current affairs, if I'm handling them well enough. That doubtful voice inside my head has been there since I've ascended the throne, and it will probably never be silent again. I will always wonder if I'm doing as good a job as my father. I will always be sensitive to any insinuations that I might be less competent than him, for such doubts mirror my own deep fears.

I'm trying to do well, though. I'm learning as I go. What more could I do?

And what about that 'reading children's books' thing? My fingers curl into fists as the hurt and the shame rise in me again at the memory of Sagaristio's words. Emilio reads all kinds of books to me during our afternoon rests, many of them for adults. We'd been reading history book last time, which was boring as hell - was that better? How is that Sagaristio's business, anyway?

A thought of adult books sticks in my mind, making me slow my steps. That's a curious idea. Perhaps instead of continuing with the book from yesterday, I should bring Emilio something new. Something more... interesting.

I make a sharp turn, my guards following me dutifully.

The library is quiet and cool, its few narrow windows facing the garden where the trees swallow most of the sunlight. Still, it's bright enough to see the spines of the books. I head for the far corner, to the shelves with poetry. Those have been undisturbed for a good decade or so, until Emilio has started to check them out recently, one by one. His attempts to read them to me didn't go down well, for poetry has never been my thing—except for one particular book.

I crouch down and reach behind the dusty volumes on the lower shelf, looking for the one hidden behind them. My fingers find it, and I smile to myself. Emilio hasn't gotten to it yet. I wonder what he'll think of it.

I open the book on my knee. The handwritten pages are yellowish, their edges ragged, showing that the book has been used a lot. Sure it was—I kept it by my bed since I have discovered it at about twelve years old, and until perhaps fifteen. By then, I had enough action in real life, so I had no need for the book. Yet the poems were good. The best book of erotic and lewd poetry, by Lifteris himself, perhaps even written in his own hand, before he was executed by Bawdrick's grand grandfather for his unconventional literary talents.

I smile to myself as my eyes travel down the familiar pages. The first few are devoted to humorous poetry that I used to find really funny when I was younger.

'Once old man seeking carnal attentions

Snatched a girl from a street to his mansion

Yet he found real quick

That the girl had a dick

And two fists that could teach him abstention'

I turn a page, still smiling. This seems so silly to me now. Emilio with his refined tastes will probably just roll his eyes.

'Once the wife of the mayor of Lensa

Was kidnapped by a gang for a ransom

She slept with them all

The short and the tall

Till they paid to return her to Lensa'

The book progresses from cheap laughs to heavier erotica, ending with a long poem describing in explicit details the story of a queen that could never be satisfied—although oh boy, has she never stopped trying.

The pictures are good, too, explicit and expressive, if not anatomically accurate. I turn a few more pages before snapping the book shut and getting back to my feet. If anything could get Emilio in the mood for some between-the-sheets exercise, this should do the trick. Definitely did for me in the past. One can't read this kind of stuff and remain unaffected.

I head out of the library, the guards following me silently until we reach my room. There they take their usual positions by the sides of the door as I walk inside, shutting it behind me. I turn around, the book in my hand, anticipating Emilio's reaction.

Yet there's none. My eyes travel around the room before stopping on the bed. He lies there, his head resting on the pillow, his eyes closed. He's still fully dressed, save for his doublet that hangs off a chair and his boots that lie discarded on the floor.

I kick off my boots and come closer, stepping softly, and stop by the bed, watching him. One of his hand is under his head, the other rests on the book that lies open on his chest. It's the history one from yesterday. No wonder he fell asleep reading it, especially after our riding trip.

I remove the open volume from under his hand and put it on the bedside table, together with the one I've brought. Using Lifteris's poetry for seduction will have to be tested another time.

I sit on the edge of the bed and allow my eyes to travel along his body. A few top buttons of his shirt are open, leaving his chest exposed, and I can see it rise and fall slowly under his hand. He looks so relaxed. His face is so soft and open in his sleep, his lips so inviting, that I can't stop myself from leaning over to kiss him.

I brush a wayward strand away from his face as my lips find his, gently, keeping in check the passion that begins to course through my veins. His steady breathing breaks for a moment, and then his lips open to mine.

As we kiss slowly, I move to lay next to him. His hand runs up and down my back and his thigh moves against mine, rubbing. I slip my hand into his breeches. He gasps with surprise, but doesn't pull away as my fingers find confirmation for what I have expected—that he's as willing to continue as I am.

Then his fingers wrap around my dick and it's my turn to groan as he begins to move his hand in steady, confident strokes. I close my eyes, my lips pressed hard against his. This is good. He averts his face and I move lower to his neck, my lips sucking and my beard scratching the tender skin. He lets out a long, low moan as his hand keeps stroking my hot, eager flesh.

He throws his head back against the pillow and looks at me with shining eyes, and that's when someone starts drumming on the door.

"Go away," I yell, making a mental note to have whoever has dared to interrupt me flogged and possibly jailed. "I'm busy!"

There're a few muffled voices behind the door, and then someone calls:

"My King, it's urgent!"

"I'll look into it later!" I shout.

"Harpax," calls someone else, and I recognize Sagaristio's voice. "An enemy fleet is approaching our shores. You might want to look into it now."

* If you like the story, please vote or comment! Thank you! *