Chapter Seventy-Five
We made love first on a thin leather hide, then again with Cleon’s back against the bark of the tree while he lifted me and held my hips tight around his legs.
It had started with the same intimacy as in Ninniya, with the tenderness of his lips against my skin, his soft breath spreading heat through my thighs and spine. But when he entered me, the softness was replaced with urgency. We would not let this moment be taken from us again.
Our bodies moved rhythmically, each thrust pushing him deeper and deeper inside me, yet still I wanted more.
I dug my fingernails into his back, fighting the urge to scream.
I bit down on his shoulder, reveling in a sensation my body had never experienced.
That night, I learned what the joining of bodies was meant to be.
I do not know when we fell asleep, but when we rose, the birds were singing their morning song. The weight of Cleon’s arms around me caused a moment of discomfort before I moved as gently as I could to slide myself out, though I was not as gentle as I had hoped, and his eyes snapped open.
“Otrera, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Cleon said.
“Why are you apologizing? All animals sleep. We need to.”
His cheeks flushed a bright, deep red. “Yes, but your women, the men, someone may have seen us.”
“And it bothers you?”
Cleon shook his head. “No, of course not. It is you I was concerned for.”
“My reputation?” I chuckled. “Come, I am famished. Perhaps you can show me where is best to hunt?”
That morning, Cleon and I left on foot. The forests were sparse, filled with needled trees and fir bushes, and the game we found was far smaller than back home.
Hares and birds were their main source of food, but turning over the rocks also offered several snakes, which Cleon assured me would be delicious after roasting.
“The first time we came to this place, it was difficult,” Cleon said when I commented on the limited food. “But it deepens our pride in the kills. We treasure every mouthful we eat.”
“I wish you had told me as much before we devoured all the venison last night.”
“We have plenty,” Cleon assured me.
“Well, tonight I will ensure the women are more reserved. And if we come again, we will bring our own provisions.”
I had not considered when we would come again. There were pregnant women among those who had come from Oreia. It was likely at least some of those would be boys, not to mention several of the babies already born. Still, it was not a matter I wished to discuss then.
Later that day, we agreed to spend three more days there to allow the horses time to recover and offer the young boys a modicum of support as they adjusted to their new life.
So for three nights, Cleon and I spent time in the same seclusion, learning and enjoying what our bodies could do together.
Not once did the women comment on how I spent my evenings. Not until we began the journey back.
“So it appears the affection is still there?” said Althea as she rode beside me. “I suspect visits to the men will become more frequent now?”
“No more frequent than they need to be,” I replied. “Though I suspect we shall return at some point. And you? I heard you found enjoyment with one of Hirtus’s men.”
“Phyleus. And for an old man, he had quite the stamina. Though from what I heard, not so much as young Cleon.”
I could have swiped at her in jest, only I feared it would have drawn others’ attention, though many were involved in similar discussions. I let out a snort instead. Given how she had only moments ago ridiculed me, I was surprised when Althea lowered her voice and became serious.
“I do not mean to speak out of turn, Otrera, but you spent four nights with Cleon. And some mornings too from what we heard. Have you thought about what you will do if you are carrying his child?”
The words were so humorous I jolted on Erebus.
“I cannot be with child, remember? I was married more than seven years, and Morsimus certainly tried his best.”
“You did not bear a child with Morsimus,” Althea responded. “Why do we always assume it is the woman who is at fault? It could just as easily be the man.”
“My womb is at fault,” I said firmly. My unease was growing, so I twisted the question back to Althea. “What about you? Do you believe you could be with child? From this Phyleus?”
She shook her head. “I stopped my bleeding three full summers ago. I would not have been so reckless otherwise,” she added. There was nothing more she needed to say.
On the journey back, my mind was as turbulent as the air above a storm. I could not bear children. But if Althea was right and Morsimus had been to blame, what then?
That night, while gentle snores drifted into the air, my mind rolled with the possibilities.
If I had a son, he would not be allowed to live with me in Themiscyra. My only choice, if I wished to stay with him, would be to leave, but I did not know how to raise a child. I would need the guidance of a village. So I would have to return him to his father. It would be the only way.
For the most part, the journey back was a solemn and melancholy one.
It was only on the third day of traveling that the mood changed and the talk shifted away from the place and people we had left to where we were headed.
When we finally reached the thick forest that marked the final leg of the journey to Themiscyra, the women were alive again with chatter.
“Sotiria will have built a forge. Nothing else,” they joked.
“Perhaps a stadium for the horses. Like they have in the citadels.”
As their conversation continued, Althea twisted around to face me. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“If you are with child, it will be a gift from the gods,” she said. “And there will be decisions to be made. But do not dwell on them now. You must give the women here your undivided attention. You will learn your fate in time. As we all do.”
When I think back to the advice Althea offered me that day and so many others, I wonder how many there are like me out there. Great rulers who are great only because of guidance from those around them.
“I will,” I promised, though even as I spoke, I doubted that anything would be enough to take my mind from Cleon and the possibility of his child growing within me. But as we broke through the clearing and the silhouette of a city came into view, I was faced with a far more immediate concern.