To Sum Up…
In the Rocarian Year 4391, a few months after Rowen’s failed attempt to recover Scalia from the Carians, 30-year-old Rowen is still recovering from horrific injuries he received during the Scalian naval battle. He is coming to terms with the deaths of thousands of men under his command and the Council’s decision to remove him from command of what’s left of the Rocan Navy.
In this short story, Rowen tries to convince 18-year old Ilona to ally with his brother Arthur, a Commander who defeated the Carians at Isloch and has occupied this northern territory for nearly 20 years. For Ilona, allying with Arthur means opposing — and deposing — her father, the current Rocan Administrator, who overstayed his original 2 year term and has become more despot than Administrator.
Ilona has a difficult choice, not the least of which includes protecting Rowen through his recovery while he casually promotes treason.
Casual Treason
Being under Ilona was like being on the sea again. Her rhythmic undulations were equal parts searing pain and intense pleasure; my stitches strained me apart until I thought I was dying under torture again, but she bound me back together and anchored me to shore.
After, while I recovered, she lay against my chest and I held her tight against me. She was naked and I wanted to keep her that way. Since Scalia, now that my body was raw and my soul nearly empty, Ilona’s warmth was the only thing that filled me with life. She, however, didn’t like being so exposed; she sat up and pulled my shirt over her head. I touched her foot and held her ankle. She had a habit of slipping away.
Her foot tapped my right stump and sent a zing of electricity up my leg and across my balls. Painful, but also… a little exciting. Like being struck by lightning, which I have been.
“Are you alright?” she said.
I shrugged. “I still feel it, like it’s still there.”
She ran her hand up my thigh. “Its absence doesn’t seem to slow you down.”
She was eighteen now, a water nymph, an iridescent fairy, and the way she wore my shirt and felt her way up my thigh made me want to rip off her wings and tarnish her halo. I used to be in charge but now I was drawn to her over and over; we were the beginning and end of each other. Or maybe she was just the beginning and end of me.
“I can still run the navy,” I said, “I can still fight.”
“It’s not up to me.”
“It could be.”
She fell back. “You really do have a deathwish.”
“You brought me back from the brink for a reason,” I said, “And it wasn’t just so you could take advantage of my cock with me in… my state.”
She blushed a little. “If Hugo had actually castrated you, there’d be literally nothing to take advantage of.”
“If Hugo had actually castrated me, I would have let the sharks eat me. There’d be nothing left of me.”
“I would be sad,” she whispered, “if there were nothing left of you.”
Now the last thing I wanted to do was rip off her wings and tarnish her halo. If she wanted me alive, then I would live. For her, I’d live for her.
And revenge. I could live for both. I just needed to convince her that revenge was a good reason to live. We had more than enough shared reasons to want to unseat Ambrose.
“There’s not much left of me as it is,” I said, “but you can use it all.”
She perked up. “Good. Because I didn’t try to save an Admiral. I saved an operative.”
“An operative? I’m not exactly a subtle man, Ilona.”
“You’re not an Admiral anymore yet you’re rebuilding the navy.”
I could see some of her father in her, but mostly her BeePeR mother, the best of all the quiet, little spies — until she made one giant mistake.
“What else do you want me to do?” I said.
“Ambrose needs a new Governor for the SouthEast. And someone to oversee the harbor.”
I laughed. “You seriously think he’s considering me?”
“He doesn’t see you as a threat… anymore. So when he offers it to you, take it and do everything he says.”
“And what do I get in return for the continuing fiction that I am not a threat?”
“The oversight of a harbor. Unofficially.”
I grabbed her ankle again and pulled her to me.
“What else?” I said.
“An operative rebuilding the navy could use that harbor to reestablish contact with Arthur.”
I was surprised. “He’ll only talk if you’re in the chair.”
“I’m not ready for the chair.”
“You could be.”
She seemed to consider, or be almost tempted by this.
“Tell me everything about him,” she said, “Everything I can’t find in the Archives.”
“Everything?”
She hesitated for the briefest of moments but then was resolute: “Everything.”
So I told her everything about my brother Arthur, including how he loved her mother, Malena.
***
