Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
It was death hidden beneath the veil of tradition.
"Their relation, and Jamison being a close friend, spared her,” he continued.
I processed his words, my mind piecing together more reality of the Isle. "He sleeps with Emilia too," I stated slowly, testing the waters of this strange conversation.
"Sometimes both at once," Alexander mused, a dark smile playing on his lips. "But that's not the norm. Most men keep their progenitors and fidelis separate from their wives. They aren’t permitted to bring them to gatherings."
“What are fid-fidelis?”
“Men kept by other men.”
I was mid-sip when he said that, nearly choking. "You have same-sex couples here?"
His brows raised slightly. "You make it seem as if we’re some stone-age society. Of course, we do. As long as they take a wife and still contribute to the Isle, we accept all of our disciples."
I stared at him, processing this. It was an oddly progressive yet deeply twisted way of doing things. It didn’t escape my notice this arrangement still catered to men, not women.
"Cassandra doesn’t like Emilia," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
He laughed lightly. "I'm aware."
"Is that how it usually is?"
He shook his head. "Progenitors are meant to be treated with the same respect our servitors are. Some wives struggle with the arrangement despite needing them. If a woman cannot give her husband children, they either are removed from the Isle, knocked down to a servitor position, or their husbands apply for a Progenitor. We—my Magistri and a few other officials‑‑decide who should be granted one. Not everyone needs to reproduce."
"And that’s where the stone-age thing comes from," I muttered without thinking.
He chuckled, his gaze lingering on me.
"You pick up on things quickly. How did you notice the tension between Cassandra and Emilia?"
I hesitated, the memory flashing in my mind. The sharp looks, the subtle undercurrents. "It’s not hard to see when you’re looking closely," I admitted, choosing my words carefully.
There was an immediate shift in his demeanor as he tilted his head. “She did something then, something that upset you.”
I froze, caught off guard by the directness of his statement. “How do you assume that?”
“I don’t assume anything, I know.” His voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll handle it.”
“She just lost a baby,” I reasoned, the weight of the day's events still heavy on my chest.
“What does that have to do with upsetting you?” he asked, his tone too casual.
I swallowed hard and took another drink, my throat suddenly dried. This side of him was suffocating at times, and I had no idea what “handling it” meant. Desperate to steer the conversation away from whatever dark turn it was about to take, I blurted out, “Wait—why don’t you have kids?”
It was an unexpected question, even for me. Alexander’s eyes flickered, and for the first time, he seemed caught off guard, which I secretly loved. He paused, considering my question with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing how much to reveal. "I've always been discreet about who I touch," he began to explain. "I can tell you the exact number of women I’ve been with and where each of them is now."
I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my chest. The thought of him with others, of him cataloging each encounter, sent a wave of unease through me.
"Given my position and because I have certain expectations, I could never get just any woman pregnant," he continued. "The Isle has measures in place to prevent accidental pregnancies. Anyone seeking pleasure beyond their home uses the Pleasure House, or they go off the Isle to those operations I mentioned that the Erebus is in charge of."
His words felt clinical and detached, and I hated this conversation more with every passing second. My stomach twisted as I forced myself to ask the next question. "But you wouldn’t have used those measures with your wives, right?"
He turned to face me fully, a faint, almost amused smile gracing his gorgeous face. "No," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "But that just further proves they were not meant for me. The first sign the Isle had already chosen you." His eyes locked onto mine.
I studied his side profile, searching for a crack in his façade, something that might hint at doubt or hesitation.
There was none.
Emboldened by the warmth of the drink, I dared to push a little further. "Are you sure you can...?"
He turned toward me again, a slow grin spreading across. "Is that a challenge?"
I swallowed hard, shaking my head quickly. "No, of course it isn’t."
His grin widened, the look in his eyes dangerous. “Good. Because when I take what’s mine, it’s not a challenge—it’s a certainty.”
"Alex..." I sighed.
“Our people have been waiting for you since the false Diaboli was stripped of her place,” he continued smoothly. "The Isle knew that a false bride was standing in your place and then dared to do what she did as everything unraveled."