ZAIRO

I find my father by a fire, meditating. This is one of the few habits I inherited from him. We are completely different men. He's a healer, much like his forefathers. He has tried to spark my interest in medicine all my life, but I've never felt a pull toward it. I protect with my sword, not with a needle.

To this day, he hasn't forgiven me for picking up steel and learning how to claim men's lives. He puts flesh back together, and I tear it apart. But fighting is in my blood. I feel grounded as I spin and slash my weapons through the air. As my muscles ache from extortion and my senses sync with my surroundings.

I will never regret becoming a captain.

I sit beside him, crossing my legs. I can see a faint swirl of smoke in the distance—from Elystia's tent. I frown. I can't shake off the feeling that the fire wasn't caused by a candle.

"The king is dead," my father speaks.

I shrug a shoulder. My father has treated the king for many illnesses before. He has always been a feeble man, bedridden and sickly. The queen has been left husband-less and childless, just how she prefers it. She has always resisted the idea of children, secretly feeling possessive about her role as queen. Thank the gods that she's not immortal, and her delusions will never change that.

"We saw his death coming like a lingering shadow. He has always been sick."

"There is turmoil in the palace. The few of us that know about his death are worried about what will happen when it's revealed. Now is your chance, Zairo."

"My chance?" I reply, reaching for my boots to remove them, letting the fire warm the soles of my feet. "The chance to what? Establish myself in the palace so the queen could kill me, too?"

"Zairo!" He whispers. "Don't make such accusations."

I don't need to be an experienced healer to suspect that the queen has been poisoning her king. His mysterious, ongoing illnesses have always been convenient.

"I'm dying of age. Can't you see? You are my only son, and our ancestral roots will be ripped from the palace if you do not stake your claim of power and have children of your own."

I pull my tunic off, welcoming the heat of the fire onto my chest. My eyes shift toward the dark mountains. Where I want to be. Where I want to breathe, eat, fuck, laugh, and get buried in. The nurturing, fertile soil has always called for me. Not the polished, glittering tiles of the suffocating palace.

"I have no interest in the palace. I belong here, at the forefront of war."

"But political power is your birthright!"

I've always found it amusing how my cousins, uncles and aunts convinced themselves that they were selected by gods to be royals. They have forgotten that their claim over Zolan was forged in betrayal, when the Terra family was overthrown unfairly. Their existence was wiped off the planet, but not from the few history books that prevailed over the past seven centuries.

"When will you have sons?" My father presses. The fire highlights the side of his face and lights a strange expression. Between his furrowed brows and wide eyes, I see desperation. He fears death. Fears the drain of our bloodline from the world. Meanwhile, I embraced death the day I killed my closest friend and overtook his position as Captain. Every day I wake up, I live without the expectation of being gifted another day.

"Until there is peace on Zolan, I will not set my seed in any woman's womb."

Elystia flashes in my mind, and I frown. My body went rogue long ago, reacting to her in every way, even chemically. I realized that trying to control my physical attraction to her is a fool's errand. But it seems like my mind is on its descent to disobedience.

"I'm too tired for this, Zairo! I must rest from my travels. And I pray you'll find reason come first light." He waves a hand. "This is a land of savages, not for you. You were born in a pristine palace with civilized royals. Just look at this jungle. The women wander godless and get rutted all day by different men. There's no modesty or shame."

I glance around my camp. Where my father sees rowdiness, I see passion. The entertainers are the strongest women I've ever met. Although the masters yield swords and charge into battle, they do it on the backs of the women who welcome them into their bodies and push them into the Entaged state. Entertainers have single-handedly won the war for us while wielding coy smiles and short dresses instead of weapons.

"They are my family."

He looks at my chest. Sees the tattoos and scars there, and he frowns. Royals are supposed to be smooth, clean, and soft. Muscle and scars are not needed for political power. My father has never been athletic.

"The girl in your tent, she—"

My chest rumbles with a groan. "I think it's best to part ways now. We can speak tomorrow."

He huffs and rises. As he walks away, the fire roars louder, fueled by his rage.

I stay seated for a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth of the beautiful, destructive force that allures me. It has been a while since I meditated by a fire. I've been distracted by another beautiful, destructive and alluring force. Elystia.

I pull my clothes back on and walk away from the fire, shaking my head at an entertainer that bends at the waist to offer me a ride. I realize that not many entertainers have been doing this lately. It's as if something is deterring them. They gave up on fishing me.

I enter my tent and find Elystia asleep. I kneel beside the bed and take a deep breath. Smoke clings to her hair, a reminder that I almost lost her today.

I touch my injured arm. The burned skin will heal, although the pain will linger for a while. But it was worth it. I would have lost my entire arm for her.

I scan her figure, and my eyes find her thighs, where her skin is marked with a pale shade. Now that my father is here, I can ask him about the condition. Elystia told me to forget about it, but my curiosity beats me. If there's anyone that knows about her skin condition, it's my father.

I consider laying beside her, but I'm too alert. When her tent caught fire, my heart was engulfed in a senseless, freezing fear that I've never felt before. I'm still rattled. Still shocked by the discovery that I can feel fear so intensely.

I stare at Elystia's lips for a few seconds. And as dishonorable as it is, I can't help but lean in and steal a kiss. It's a light peck, but enough to set me on fire. Even the burn in my arm aches, irritated as my skin heats.

She stirs, and I freeze. I would hate to be discovered, but I would never run like a coward. I'll meet her confused, hooded eyes with my unwavering gaze.

She goes back to sleep, and I sigh with relief before walking away. Since I won't be getting sleep any time soon, I suppose I can find my father. I doubt he'll be sleeping. He will be too busy seething in his tent.

I'm sure he would appreciate me asking about Elystia's condition and showing an interest in medicine. We will bond over the conversation. I'm sure he will have plenty of interesting conclusions.

A/N: SMUT NEXT CHAPTER. PLUS HE DISCOVERS THAT ELYSTIA HAS HUMAN BLOOD!