Marcellus Marks, known to everyone in the castle as Marcus, felt Ersonia’s golden blonde hair on his nose and opened his eyes to the morning sunlight pouring in through the open eastern balcony.

His entire body hurt because Ersonia had challenged him to a contest to see who could last the longest during intercourse. It had been a surprisingly difficult challenge that went on for three hours and fifteen minutes. He was thirty-four years old, so long sprints weren’t an activity he was accustomed to.

Ersonia was his latest fling, and a mistake according to his father: the Chancellor and acting ruler of Narcuss—and the kingdom of Parceta as a whole until the rebellion in Chartan could be quelled.

Their rogue king, Harrol Roah, was to be ousted from his usurped position as ruler of Chartan in their renamed tower city of Roah.

The Crysies bloodline ended indefinitely, Roah challenged the throne in Narcuss by having the former king, Cerveys Narcuss, assassinated. He hoped to bring Parceta to Chartan rule, as it had once been in the ancient days.

But this left Marcus in a precarious position. His father had never wanted to rule Narcuss and Parceta.

Damius Marks chose to disappear into his chambers for long hours, emerging only to eat, go to the bathroom, and go for the occasional walk.

However, Marcus knew that Marks wielded extraordinary power. Marcus had little doubt he could take over the kingdom with minimal effort.

If he chose to place Marcus in power once this complication with Harrol Roah was resolved, that was certainly in the cards.

It would mean that the woman Marcus chose to marry would be queen of Parceta. And Ersonia, while coming from the family of a wealthy duchess and duke from Narcuss, she lacked vision and leadership.

She mostly dominated in the bedroom, and it increasingly seemed she was interested in little more than that.

There was a knock on Marcus’s chamber door. He pulled the bedsheet about his waist as he got up to answer. Thunred, his personal butler entered with a tray of breakfast and tea for the two of them. Ersonia snuck into the restroom as Thunred placed the tray on the table for them.

“I apologize for the light breakfast, Prince,” nodded Thundred. “You’re to take part in the feast for lunch during the Tornetum.”

“It’s all right, Thunred. Thanks.” Marcus said. Thunred gave a small bow, then left the chamber. Marcus grabbed a muffin, bit into it, and placed it back on the tray as he went for his wardrobe.

“Could I enlist your help in another round before the tournament, Prince?” Ersonia posed in the doorway with her naked body as she bit her lip, her curly blond hair still strewn across her face from the night before.

“I’d really like to,” Marcus dropped the bed sheet and approached. He kissed her lips as she remained in position. “But if I go one more round, my back might not let me leave the room today.”

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“Oh, then we can stay in here and do it all—day—long.”

Marcus pursed his lips. “T’would be a shame to miss the Tornetum.” He ducked under her arm and through the doorway to go to the restroom.

“If you insist on going, what should I wear?” Ersonia asked.

“Whatever turns you on the most to wear while watching men kill one another.”

“Be serious, Marcus.” Ersonia whined.

“You’re the one with a one-track mind.” Marcus exited the restroom into the bedroom.

“See, Marcus, this is the problem with you: unless you’re inside of me, I don’t know if you love or hate me. I’m starting to think there’s no difference in that head of yours.”

“No, if I hated you, you wouldn’t be here right now.” Marcus drawled. He put on his toga with the green sash, then put on his sandals. He stood before the mirror, trying to smooth down the uneven patches in his thick brown hair.

Thunred knocked on the door once more. “Just come in, Thunred.” Marcus called.

“Have you talked to your father yet?” Ersonia continued as she always continued and continued.

“I talk to my father all the time. What precisely do you mean?” Marcus put on his belt and looped his royal gladius to his hip.

“Sir, your carriage has arrived to take you to the Vorago arena.” Thunred spoke, then stepped out.

“About us,” said Ersonia. “The date is set, payments have been made, obligations have been created: and he’s still said no word of approval for the marriage to go forward. I don’t think the man has said five words to me since we met over a year ago.”

“My father is a contemplative and brooding man. Don’t hold that against him.” Marcus stood before the mirror and straightened his outfit around the sash, and then added his Narcuss insignia over his left shoulder.

“I just feel like he doesn’t like me.” Ersonia said.

“You think everyone doesn’t like you, and part of it is because you spend too much time talking, and not enough time doing.” Marcus held up the purple dress she had draped over the wardrobe door the evening prior.

Despite them being practically late and barely eating breakfast, Ersonia coerced Marcus into another round of love making—his toga hiked over his shoulder as he thrust into her from behind. Something about screwing her brains out made his stress over the situation go down.

He was relaxed and cordial to her as they left the room and climbed into the royal horse-drawn carriage.

The sky had become overcast over the island city. Its only connection to the mainland continent of Ire was a narrow one-hundred mile bridge.

Sunny days were not a common sight in Narcuss. The city was known for its signature drab sky that made the large island look gray against the deep blue Adane Sea surrounding it.

As the carriage drew them away from the towering Narcuss castle to the north, a light drizzle swirled through the air. A touch of cold broke the late summer humidity, causing Marcus to close his eyes and enjoy the moment.

“How should we redecorate the castle once we become king and queen?” Ersonia interrupted.

He wanted to say something snide in retaliation for her imposing her useless thoughts on the world at any given time, but chose to ignore her.

Marcus couldn’t think of a more useless question, and now he wasn’t thinking about enjoying the upcoming Tornetum, he was thinking about how much he was going to hate having to pick new drapes and linens for the entire castle.

They arrived at the vorago arena in the center of town.

The two got out at the royal entrance and made their way with the other dukes and duchesses to their seats in the stands.

As they approached, the noise from within the arena intensified. The citizens of Narcuss and from all over Ire were wild for their annual display of outsized violence.

Half of them were already wasted in the stands as was the usual arrangement.