I never thought something as simple as proximity could drive me mad, and yet like everything else I had held as a fact, he eroded it as easily as breathing. It was infuriating as much as it was exhilarating, and in those earliest days I genuinely could not decide whether I wanted him close or needed an escape. He threw my perspective of normalcy out the window, and looking back, I spent as much time trying to hold on to my sense of propriety as I did lamenting his refusal to adhere to cultural norms.

  Following the tour of the hangar and another hour or so of polite discussion with Menelaus and the others, Arthur had been released to his own devices by the Leos Patriarch, who had been called away to a meeting he could not put off.

  As a result, Arthur found himself some thirty minutes later standing in his seemingly freshly cleaned apartments while Circe Leos eyed a set of new attire he had been ostensibly bullied into modeling with the look of a woman on a mission.

  For the sake of propriety, she was not alone.

  Instead, she had a small army of staff with her.

  Most of them were maids, to Arthur’s understanding, though there was a blonde woman in an ankle-length one-shoulder dress who served as the official stylist and wardrobe manager—which was not nearly as insane as he might have initially thought, his Zacaris memories told him—for Circe herself.

  “Turn around, Arthur,” Circe commanded.

  Arthur swallowed an objection and did as she bade.

  She had dressed him in a black loose-fitting shirt made of some kind of breathable and soft material, which felt pleasantly weighty on his frame without being stifling. The hem went down to his hips, where it met the waistband of a pair of dark gray jeans with a silver-buckled black belt holding them up.

  A pair of black combat boots laced halfway up his shins completed the look.

  “Definitely the loose long-sleeve, my lady,” the stylist said approvingly. “It defines his muscles well when it catches, and the wind will tease it across his frame most excellently when you’re out and about.”

  “I’m not certain if it’s not almost too casual, though...” Circe muttered.

  “We could try a tighter fit, my lady, or perhaps an overcoat and breeches over a body-sleeve.”

  “In black?” Circe asked with a glance over when Arthur turned back around.

  “Of course,” the blonde-haired stylist responded primly. “It’s important that he be associated with House Leos at a glance.”

  “He isn’t sworn to us yet, though.” Circe murmured while turning to peer at Arthur without fully seeing him.

  “Not to overstep, my lady, but from what we’ve all heard it’s largely just a matter of time, is it not?”

  “Mmm…” Circe hummed without answering, and while still regarding Arthur critically.

  “Does the mannequin have an opinion here?” Arthur asked with a twinge of impatience.

  “Not really,” Circe commented cheerfully. “Your only duty is to stand there looking handsome while we make sure you won’t embarrass me this week.”

  Arthur raised his eyebrows at her words.

  “So, you think I’m handsome?” he teased her.

  Circe didn’t even blink.

  “If you weren’t, your gene-tailoring would have been an immense waste of money.”

  Arthur sighed at her complete dismissal of his teasing and folded his arms across his chest, while pointedly ignoring the appreciative looks he could see coming from the maids in his periphery.

  “You’ve already had me try on multiple togas—”

  “Chitons,” she corrected with a thoughtful look while he spoke.

  “—along with tee shirts, blazers, formal tunics, overcoats, dinner shirts, some nightmare of ruffles I will burn before I wear, and several other things besides,” he continued without missing a beat. “Pick something, if you insist on me adhering to your preferences, and let us be done with it.”

  Circe sighed at his words and turned to look down at the almost comically shorter stylist. “I’ll send you a list of what to fill his wardrobe with. These apartments don’t have a walk-in, so make sure it’s arrayed properly. We’ll be out visiting the village for a few hours, so you and the maids will have time.”

  The blonde and the maids curtsied to Circe elegantly at her words.

  “It will be as you desire, my lady,” the blonde assured her.

  Arthur sighed heavily, and waited while the women trooped from the room before turning back to Circe.

  “That was painful, I’ll have you know.”

  “You’re being dramatic,” she chided while moving closer to idly pluck at the fabric of his shirt with narrowed eyes.

  “This isn’t what I imagined when you talked about teaching me your culture,” Arthur said wryly, while he tried not to think about her fingers brushing down along his shoulders, or the fact he could feel the heat of her body at their current proximity. “I somehow envisioned more books and time spent lounging under trees overlooking the water, or burying my head in books in the library.”

  “How naive you are, oh mighty Knight, if you fail to appreciate the importance of fashion!” Circe said with a mock-pitying smile.

  The memories of Zacaris within his mind told him she was absolutely correct.

  Arthur pointedly and studiously ignored them.

  “Yes yes,” he declared airily, “I am a profound degenerate, my lady.”

  When Circe ignored him and continued fussing with his shirt, his patience ran out.

  She was hyperfocusing, he knew.

  He lifted his hands to lightly grasp hers by the wrists, and she froze while looking up at him, like a deer caught in headlights. She was remarkably beautiful, he realized a moment too late, and she was extremely close.

  Her lips were slightly parted in a surprised inhale.

  Arthur felt his pulse quicken and focused on her eyes.

  Her wrists were warm and smooth and deceptively delicate despite her physique.

  At such proximity, he could smell her. She was like mint, lilacs, and vanilla all in one.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Now,” he asked far more calmly than he felt, “can we go?”

  Circe drew in a sharp breath and then stepped back, simultaneously freeing her wrists from his hands at the same moment as she turned away from him quickly.

  “Very well!” She said after an audible breath, and while spinning back around to pin him in place with a smile. “But!” She noted with a raised forefinger. “You will allow me to show you as much of Pallikári as I wish.”

  Pallikári was the name of the town built around the palatial Leos Estate. In English, the name translated best to ‘Stalwart’, which seemed like an apt name for a place inhabited by diehard Laconians with Spartan ideology baked into their DNA.

  “Of course, my lady,” Arthur said while trying to put the image of her parted lips firmly out of his mind, and focus only on what was to come.

  “Good. Come along, then,” Circe said without preamble. “We’ll collect your Kidemónes and be off.”

  “You don’t think Perseus and Endymion will be a little… obvious?” He asked while watching her.

  She seemed supremely unaffected by what had happened, and though Arthur knew that was probably a very good thing—especially since he really shouldn’t have taken ahold of her—in general, he couldn’t help but feel quietly disappointed. It was an idiotic and stupid thought, but it persisted.

  She was the Heir of House Leos.

  He was to be their Hetairoi.

  Even the hint of something more was absolutely untenable, he knew.

  It would have helped, though, if she hadn’t been so easy to spend time with.

  It’s the psions and resonance. He reasoned while he followed her from his quarters. And you know how to deal with that, so stop being an idiot and focus.

  The reminder helped him to some extent, though the way she walked threatened to upend his mental chastisement.

  Circe naturally combined a noblewoman’s sashaying glide with a straight-backed martial stride, and the way it came together was… distractingly nice to watch.

  So instead, he stepped toward to stride alongside her to remove the temptation, and returned her smile politely while they made their way through the corridors of the estate.

  Perseus and Endymion, who had been until then in counsel with Atreus, joined them as they reached the end of the expansive hallway that marked the entrance to the Hetairoi wing Arthur’s apartments were in.

  “Apologies for not being with you, Arthur,” Perseus said while they walked.

  “No problem,” Arthur said with an easy smile. “Did everything go well with Atreus?”

  “Our brother simply wished to explain the long-term arrangements going forward,” Perseus said in a tone that Arthur recognized as ‘professionally vague’, and so he did not press for more details. An itch of suspicion made itself known between his shoulder blades, but he didn’t pay it active mind.

  His memories as Arthur Zacaris screamed something was wrong.

  Arthur Zacaris, however, had grown up in a nest of vipers, and his new self was stronger than his past self’s lingering traumas.

  “Will the two of you be staying with us, Kidemónas Andino?” Circe asked politely.

  “We will be, my lady,” Perseus confirmed with a smile Arthur heard through the tall Graecian’s helmet speakers. “Though Lord Atreus will be accompanying your father on his trip to Attica this evening, so it will just be us for a short while.”

  “My father is going to Attica?” Circe asked a little sharply.

  Perseus and Endymion glanced at one another, and then Perseus spoke again.

  “My apologies for speaking out of turn, my lady. I assumed you knew.”

  “No, I… it’s quite alright, Kidemónas Andino,” Circe said with what Arthur recognized as a more forced smile. “The fault is mine. He was just likely too busy to inform me. It is not uncommon.”

  The Kidemónes glanced at one another again with a faint whir of their armor servos, but neither spoke in reply. Arthur took a careful look over at Circe, and decided to mimic their choice.

  Sometimes silence was for the better.

  It was in that same silence that the four of them made their way through the Leos palace, passing Lion Guard and various staff members that bowed or curtsied to the quartet. Circe, Arthur noticed, greeted every single person where she could. Even if it was just a simple nod, a wave, or the rare smile; she made the effort to acknowledge as many of them as possible.

  She didn’t stop to speak with them, of course, but he also understood the pragmatism of that choice. If she had stopped even for a few seconds, it would have added the better part of an hour to their walk to the estate’s outer bailey.

  The sheer scale of the Leos estate was staggering. It was big enough to house thousands of people comfortably, and judging by the staff he saw, that might not have been a far off assessment.

  When they eventually did reach the walled front gardens of the palace, and the two hundred meter driveway leading to the distant high-walled gates, Arthur raised an eyebrow at what awaited them.

  A long black air car set on six wheels—two at the front and four at the rear—with the Leos Lion emblazoned on the doors, and what looked like the shielded dome cover for an autocannon on the roof.

  It looked like a sleeker version of a presidential limousine from the 21st century.

  “I take it your father doesn’t mess around with security.”

  “I’ve had assassins after me since my birth, Arthur,” Circe said with a laugh. “This was his compromise for letting me go out with a minimal guard.”

  “I don’t see any of the Lion Guard, though,” Arthur said with a glance around.

  “The driver and footman will be, but we’re also with two of the Vasilikós Kidemónes,” Circe pointed out with a smile for Perseus and Endymion while the four of them descended the steps. “Their presence will actively dissuade attack, because attacking them is attacking the Kings, and that would end very, very badly for anyone even suspected of such.”

  “But if they can’t be incrim—Ah. Myrmidónes.”

  “Myrmidónes,” Circe confirmed with a grin.

  “I see your point,” Arthur chuckled. “The thought of someone like Atreus hunting me is not a pleasant one.”

  “If one of the Kidemónes are attacked, their entire Hexaron will show up as well,” Circe said conversationally as they reached the air car, “and that is a level of force that not even the bravest of our enemies wants to rouse. The Kidemónes have their own Eidolon pilots, and they are not known for their mercy, nor a deficiency of skill.”

  Arthur reached the air car first and reached out when he did to open the passenger door, which slid sideways into the car’s framework while he turned to offer Circe his hand. “Allow me, Lion Maiden,” he said with a sly smile. “As your potential attendant knight, this seems like the proper thing to do.”

  Circe took his hand with a decidedly amused smile and let him help her into the red leather interior of the car. “My thanks, Ser Magellan,” she replied with sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

  Arthur laughed and joined her within the car a moment later.

  Perseus and Endymion joined them a moment later, exchanged introductions with the two Lion Guard seated in the driver and front passenger seats—separated by a deployable black screen of opaque glass—and the air car set off moments later.

  On its wheels.

  “We aren’t flying?” Arthur asked in surprise.

  “We avoid doing so on the island, because we like to keep the airspace restricted. It helps us track traffic coming and going, and it makes it harder for people to target our family.” Circe explained while the car’s engine pushed them along at a muted roar. “My extended family all have quarters within the palace, and with the emphasis on trying to end the main bloodline, it seemed prudent that everyone avoid air travel where possible. With the Island’s seaport and starport both heavily controlled by the local police and Lion Guard both, it makes it a lot safer for us to go everywhere by ground.”

  “That makes sense,” Arthur said while examining the red leather interior. “What does it run on? That doesn’t sound electric.”

  “Hydrogen,” Circe said with a grin. “It’s for if we need to make a quick getaway. It can get up to supersonic speeds in the atmosphere, just in case.”

  “Not fast enough to escape a fighter or Eidolon, but fast enough to get away from just about anything else,” Arthur noted with a nod. “I doubt that was cheap.”

  “Father has one for every branch family in the palace,” Circe said with a shrug. “He believes safety doesn’t have a price.”

  “That’s because you’re starship builder rich,” Arthur responded wryly.

  “Well, you’re not wrong,” Circe grinned.

  Their journey from the palace to Pallikári took the span of a short half hour, and Arthur was content to spend it in comfortable silence with his companions while perusing the HoloNet on his omni-comp.

  He hadn’t really had time to mindlessly scroll through Graecia’s version of the ‘Net since coming to the System, and once he found the memes, he settled in to ‘absorb the culture’ with a grin while they made their way to the town.

  If one thing had remained constant through the thousand odd years of human expansion, it was that every human culture—with only a few exceptions—found a way to create and share amusing images and comedic anecdotes.

  Arthur suspected the practice would outlive all of them for centuries to come.