Have you cooled off enough to talk sensibly?

When Hera burned this ogreish letter that Midais had the nerve to send her just a day after their date, she suspected it wouldn’t be the last one she would receive. What she didn’t expect were her own reactions to his messages.

You know that not answering logically to a logical question is nightmarish behavior?

She burned that letter too, but this time her flames weren’t fueled solely by anger. She wanted to believe otherwise, but that ghoulish ghoul had a small point.

Do you really want us to be rivals?

Five minutes passed before she destroyed this message. She remembered the reason she’d agreed to enter into this arrangement in the first place. If the majority of society still saw him mainly as a philanderer instead of a responsible statesman, then the role of Archmagus would be assigned to her. And she would have to give up her healing career on behalf of boring politics. The argument still seemed just as nightmarish to her… but it lost with the anger that flooded her at a crucial moment of internal conflict. If Midais wanted to improve his reputation, why didn’t he improve it for real?

Hera, let’s talk. Please.

This time, she thought for a full hour before turning the roll of papyrus into a burnt offering. “Please” was not “I’m sorry,” but it might have been a sign of remorse. Still, “please” was not the same as “sorry.”

For the next two days, Midais didn’t send any letters. It annoyed her. Was it so difficult to write “I’m sorry?”

Then her irritation grew, but this time she herself was the reason. Was she really going to forgive him for an attempt at manipulation that might lead people to think she was unvirtuous?

At this point, she wondered. Why should she be so scared of people finding out about her sexual experiment? After all, everyone could experience a moment of weakness. Why should it devalue all of her past work and detract from her future endeavors?

Finally, she got into a flap. Drops, she wouldn’t start thinking about the scenario when no one found out about anything because she managed to stay silent at a crucial moment… would she?

The next week was devoted exclusively to work. She did not wonder why Dago hadn’t written another letter, and she wasn’t at all concerned that the man might have completely given up on his original plan.

She. Did. Not. Care.

She didn’t care about anything.

Except work.

Work never betrays you, said someone famous once… or not. Never mind. Only work mattered.

When she eventually opened the mailbox to find a papyrus roll wrapped with a familiar ribbon, she ignored it.

After an hour, she decided to burn the message without reading it.

After another hour, she decided to take a look at the contents, which had no meaning to her, to make sure it wasn’t some imp’s prank and the author was definitely Midais.

She didn’t burn the letter only because as soon as she finished reading, “I’ll come in the evening,” there was a knock on the door, which she eventually opened, because it wasn’t necessarily him.

But it was him.

“Why are you so surprised?” Dago asked. “I sent you a note.”

The sight of his statuesque torso, covered only partially by a sash, threw her off balance, but his impudence quickly sobered her up.

She crossed her arms. “Don’t you think that before visiting someone’s home, one should first ask if the host would like to see them?”

“You wouldn’t reply anyway.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because you ignored my four messages?”

“I would have replied to this one. Negatively.”

Instead of continuing the argument, Dago paused and then asked, “Will you let me in so we can talk like adults?”

Hera felt a warmth on her cheeks. She didn’t like the implication that her behavior was bratty, but the strange pressure she felt in the pit of her stomach she disliked even more.

She slammed the door.

Or at least, she tried.

“Sweet nightmare, Galenos.”

Dago held the door open and slipped inside. She opened her mouth to protest, but he covered it with a hand. When she raised her arms to push him away, he deftly grabbed her wrists in an iron grip.

“Rule number one,” he said in a quiet, calm voice that made a shiver run through her, “until we remove the curse from your fingers, you must not touch me without gloves.”

Taking advantage of her puzzlement and his strength, he made her step back and lean against the wall.

“Rule number two. If you don’t like what I do, you tell me and wait for my reply.” As she almost choked with indignation, he added, “This is non-negotiable. If you don’t agree to this condition, I will leave and never come back here again. Keep in mind, though, that someday I too may refuse if you want to talk to me.”

He waited until her expression showed that she’d fully understood the meaning of his words, then lowered the hand he’d been covering her mouth with.

Hera was silent. She felt overwhelmed more by her own feelings than by his physical proximity. She didn’t understand why the words “I will leave and never come back here again” tore at her insides like claws at fabric. They had barely seen each other for the past ten years. She’d never wanted to spend time with him. He’d always annoyed her. He was annoying her now. When had he become so sensible and composed? Why was he so determined? Why was he looking at her like that? Why did this matter to her? Why, instead of frying his hand, was she still letting him touch her like that?

Why did she like it?

Why couldn’t she like it?

“How long?” she asked finally.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “How long what?”

“How long do you expect me to wait for your reply after I communicate my dissatisfaction? I won’t agree to something you can use to play games with me.”

His face relaxed. “I’ll reply as soon as possible. Promise.”

He’d surprised her again. She didn’t expect from him such ardency. Not for her.

“All right,” she said because she didn’t have more counterarguments. “I agree.”

At the corner of his mouth lurked a smile. “Good.”

Despite these declarations, he didn’t move away, nor did she insist on it. There was still something separating them, though.

“Did you set a trap for me that day?” she asked.

“No.”

“So you didn’t want to create a scandalous situation just to spread gossip about me?”

“No.”

She studied him, searching his eyes for the slightest clue that would betray his lie, but she found nothing.

“You didn’t plan to harm me?”

“No.”

“Never?”

This time he delayed his answer.

“You know me,” he said eventually. “Do you really think I wouldn’t consider that you wouldn’t want to marry me?”

She felt a tightness in her chest. That she’d trusted him even though she shouldn’t was disappointing. That he hadn’t trusted her and had schemed an emergency plot hurt more than it should have.

“Marry me.”

The words came so suddenly that she thought she misheard. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t dizzy with emotions.

“Given our history, it will take years to build unconditional trust,” Dago continued. “But if we get married now, we won’t have to wait so long because the marriage contract will oblige us to unconditional loyalty. If we add a strict clause with sanctions for breaking it or early termination, we won’t have to rely on trust at all. It will be enough if we’re afraid of losing what we pledge.”

Hera stared at the man, astounded. His proposition was so logical that it was scary.

“What will you pledge?” she asked.

“All my gold mines.”

Her eyes widened. Dago Midais wanted to pledge the source of his wealth just to marry her? This couldn’t be real.

Then she remembered that he wasn’t doing it for her, but for a promotion that she wanted to avoid.

“What should I pledge?” Even though she tried to avoid it, her voice trembled. That Dago was willing to go to such great lengths to achieve his goals shouldn’t surprise her. The strange thing was that she didn’t know what she herself was capable of. “I don’t have anything that could match your wealth.”

“Maybe because you value yourself so little,” he said, giving her another long look that affected her pulse in an unfathomable way. “If you hadn’t shared the results of your experiments with everyone for free, you would now be one of the richest people in this country.”

“If I hoarded knowledge that could change the world, it would never change.”

“If you didn’t hoard knowledge, but shared it for a well-deserved fee, it would change, although perhaps at a slightly slower pace.”

“At the pace that would deprive defenseless beetles of food.”

“At the pace that wouldn’t deprive you of your savings, leaving you at the mercy of circumstances.”

She threw him a glare. “I’m not at the mercy of circumstances. I’m doing fine.”

“For now, yes. But what if you were banned from practicing your profession?”

She fell silent, confused.

“That should be your pledge,” Dago said. “The penalty for breaking the three-year contract will be a three-year ban on business competition. If you don’t want to be my wife, you will either become my subordinate or you will have to change careers.”