back around slowly as he gazed upon me. I stood, completely naked in front of him wearing only my bloodstone. I started to take it off, but Cadmus stilled my hand.
“Leave it,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”
He knelt in front of me, his hands clutched to my back and slowly kissed my belly, my ribs, my neck and then finally, when I was practically gasping for breath, he kissed my mouth once more.
“You were right,” I whispered into his ear before I ran my lips along his cheekbone.
“About?” he asked huskily as he nuzzled my neck.
“You didn’t have to ask me to take off my clothes.”
I felt him smile against my skin and then he kissed me again.
And again.
And again.
“Do you love me yet?” I asked with a smile, but like always, I waited for his answer.
He pulled away from me and looked into my eyes seriously.
“I’ve always loved you, I think,” he answered quietly. “From the moment you shot me in the leg.”
I laughed quietly as I remembered that first day. I had been wonderstruck by him even then.
“So you love me?” I asked again.
He nodded. “Most definitely. I will love you for the rest of time.”
I stared at him. “That’s a very long time, you know. You’re going to be immortal someday.”
“Forever is a long time,” he agreed. “And I’ll love you every minute of it. But let us worry about eternity later. For now, let me love you this night. I promise, I will love you every minute of it.”
“Promises, promises,” I giggled into his ear as he rolled me over on the bed and hovered above me.
“I always keep my promises,” he reminded me as he kissed a trail down my neck.
“Well, you’ve got all night to prove it,” I told him as I ran my hands over his back, his shoulders, his hips. “You said you would love me every minute of it.”
“Oh, I will,” he promised again, kissing me soundly and deeply.
And he did.
Epilogue
I have been told that my story is one for the ages.
I don’t know about that.
My story is one that has contained sadness and tragedy, happiness and laughter, hope and despair. And love. There’s been a great deal of love.
But isn’t that the case for every person, god or mortal? Every life contains laugher and love, while that very same life contains sadness and despair. Someone once said that without rain, there could be no rainbows and I have certainly found that to be true. There is always a balance in life…light with the dark, happy with the sad.
Life is not a promise of constant bliss. Life is a chance. A chance to love, to try, to fail and to try again. Life is about living. If there is any message that you can take from my story, I hope it is that.
Life is vivid and beautiful. You should grab it with both hands and never let it go, even when it seems bleak or gray. Because you know what? Tomorrow or the day after or the day after that, it will be sunny again. And love with prevail.
It always does.
Every love story has a beginning and this was mine.
So long ago, Cadmus promised to love me for every minute of forever. And would you like to know something? He has done exactly that. Our love has withstood time, tragedy and death.
Cadmus has walked by my side every day for the past two thousand years. Every night he holds me until I fall asleep, whispering that everything will always be alright, because he will make it so.
And he always does.
My husband keeps his promises.
Author’s Notes
I hadn’t realized how much I missed Harmonia and Cadmus until I wrote this novella. They are such great characters…so witty and interesting, so loving and strong. I wish I could write about them forever, but alas, their story had come to a close.
According to ancient myth, after they wed in Thebes, Cadmus and Harmonia ruled until they grew old. Because the bloodstone had in fact been cursed by Hephaestus (as revenge for his wife’s transgressions), all of their children and grandchildren met horrible ends. Because they were weary with grief, Cadmus and Harmonia eventually moved to Illyria to help with a war, and then asked Zeus to change them into serpents. They lived in the Isles of the Blessed forever.
It is said that Cadmus is the father of the modern alphabet, that he brought the written word to the Greeks, where as we know, it slowly spread throughout the world and you are reading it even now.
As you know, my version of Cadmus and Harmonia’s story is a little different from the ancient mythos. There is no way I wanted my hero and goddess to live for all of eternity as serpents. (Although, it bears importance to note that in ancient Greek myth, serpents were not regarded the same as we look at them today. They were treated as wise, revered creatures.)
In my version of Cadmus and Harmonia’s story, they reign in Thebes until they are old. They do grow weary from watching their children suffer, so they do ask to be turned into serpents. However, Zeus brought them back from the Isles of the Blessed in order to carry out their true purpose. They were re-born into mortal lives for a couple of thousand years in order to protect the bloodstone which eventually turned out to be the key that saved each and every Olympian from the clutches of the Fates.
They were granted immorality and will both live in the prime of their lives forever, beautiful and strong. They have a daughter, Raquel, and they live blissfully at peace on a replica Mount Olympus in the Isles of the Blessed.
They faced many tribulations to get to where they are now, but they conquered each and every one. Zeus had never been more correct than when he told Cadmus that his path in life would be twisted and long, but would be worth it. Cadmus and Harmonia spent two thousand years finding each other, only to lose each other again and again. But they are together now, for all of eternity, and that is the happy ending that they so deserve.
If Cadmus and Harmonia could speak to you right now, I’m sure they would tell you this: That every struggle in life is worth it. The blissful moments are worth every tear that is shed.
Thank you so much for reading The Bloodstone Saga. I do hope that you have enjoyed it even a fraction as much as I enjoyed writing it. As a special thank you, I have included several short stories based on characters from The Bloodstone Saga. I hope you enjoy them!
Bonus Short Stories
From
The Bloodstone Saga
At Morning’s Light
A Short Story Based on Every Last Kiss
By Courtney Cole
Foreword
In my book, Every Last Kiss, Charmian knew that she would die with Cleopatra. She knew it without any doubt, because she had been there and done it before.
In Every Last Kiss, she has been brought back to ancient Alexandria by the priest Annen to either repair a hole in time or to sit back and do nothing at all, all to prove that it wouldn’t matter in the long run. Annen wanted to prove to Macy (Charmian) that the Fates were manipulating her into making painful decisions, that their plan wasn’t the one true way.
The night before the armies of Rome arrived to occupy Alexandria; Charmian also knew that it was the last night she would spend with the love of her life, Hasani, because he would die the next day. She had already seen it and knew it would happen. If she didn’t interfere, if she didn’t change his path, Hasani would die.
Charmian was heartbroken, not only because Hasani was going to die, but because she thought she was sending him into a battle to die when he had no idea of his fate. As the commander of Marc Antony’s armies, Hasani was the bravest warrior she had ever met. She knew he would fight to the death for victory and he would meet it without ever once doubting his skill in battle, without ever once thinking about his own defeat.
Hasani never doubted that he, and Egypt, would win. He never hesitated, he never faltered, he never questioned his fate.
At least, never out loud.
Cha
rmian’s memories from that night were heartbreaking and poignant.
This is the story of that night from Hasani’s point of view.
At Morning’s Light
Cleopatra’s Palace
Alexandria, Egypt
30 BC
Hasani
I would die on the morrow.
This was the thought that consumed me as I sat quietly and listened to Marc Antony, my commander, speaking to me of our certain victory.
“Octavian is mine,” Antony told me in a conspiratorial tone. He laughed and slapped my shoulder. “Seeing his pale eyes widen in surprise when I run him through with my sword will be repayment for everything he has done. To me, to Cleopatra, to Egypt.”
Antony trailed off and stared absently into the crowd, watching the dancers gyrate around us, but not really watching. His inky black curls glistened in the light from the torches that were flickering from the walls, his dark eyes pensive.
He could say what he would like, he could laugh about the Roman curs that we would decimate, the cowards who we would crush between our heels. But I knew, just as he knew, that these were delusions. Delusions to keep us calm, to keep us happy on our last night of life. We would both die in our next and last battle.
I was a warrior. I had always been a warrior. It was hard, almost impossible, for me to contemplate or accept the fact that I would lose a battle. I would lose a war.
As bitter a pill as it was for me to swallow, it was even worse for Antony. Marc Antony had already lost his good Roman standing, his reputation in Rome, his homes, his money, his status as a Triumvirate. All he had left was here in Egypt and he would lose that tomorrow. I was certain he would lose his life as well. He would never surrender to Octavian. He still had his Roman honor. They couldn’t take that from him.
Yet even still, Antony kept his expression jovial, his manner light. Like any good soldier, Antony kept his emotions hidden. I wondered if he was dying inside like I was. The interesting thing was my perspective. I knew I could die, would probably die. But my life didn’t really matter. But what did matter was tearing me apart.
It was her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glimpse of royal purple. I turned and found them entering the banquet hall. Amid the dancers and oboe players, the incense smoke and the chatter, I saw Cleopatra, the queen of Egypt, and Charmian, her handmaiden and my reason for living, making their way towards us across the crowded hall.
I immediately stood as a show of respect for the queen. A slight wisp of a woman, the queen was exotically beautiful. Her black hair was piled onto her head, her eyes painted with kohl and malachite. I could see the glittering from here, as she watched Antony and me for signs of distress or weakness. She knew the truth, as well. I had seen it on her face for weeks. But she was a strong queen and she would do what she must for the good of Egypt. I respected her for that.
But it wasn’t her who commanded my attention right now.
It was Charmian.
It was always Charmian.
Her name was as exotic as she was. She was slender as a reed, her hair dark and flowing down her back, her skin flawless, her eyes a glowing green. Her gaze reminded me of a sacred cat, serene and strong. She had to have been personally blessed by the gods to have been born so very beautiful.
With a simple gaze, she could practically bring me to my knees, not that I’d ever let her know that. She was already too spirited for her own good. By the gods, I was surprised she hadn’t gotten herself into trouble yet.
Right now, she held my gaze as she crossed the room regally with her queen. Stopping in front of me, she practically folded into my arms. Her scent washed over me, feminine and exotic, and I kissed the top of her head.
“You look lovely tonight, my sweet,” I told her. And she did. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Charmian gazed at me seriously, like she couldn’t decide what to think or feel.
“Thank you,” she answered simply.
Cleopatra stepped to Antony’s side and their conversation faded into that of the entire room’s chatter. All I could focus on was Charmian. I found that I didn’t want to be very far away from her at all, so I kept one hand on the small of her back as we idly mingled with the banquet guests.
I looked around at them, the people who were laughing and eating merrily and I wondered, did they really believe we would win tomorrow? That was doubtful. It was more likely that they were like me, quietly resigned to the fact that we wouldn’t, but determined to act bravely this night.
I found that it didn’t matter. All that mattered was relishing these last moments. I pulled Charmian into my lap on a nearby chair. She looked up at me in surprise, her face so beautiful in the candlelight.
“General,” she teased, running her hands across my bare chest. I was only wearing a loin cloth this evening. “What scandalous behavior! What if someone sees?”
I glanced around the room again, at the rampant sexuality, the pairings in dark corners, the overt flirtations on chaise lounges and looked back to Charmian.
“I doubt anyone will notice.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound in the chatter. I felt a brief sense of panic. I had protected this woman with every breath of my adult life. If I died tomorrow fighting with Antony, who would protect her now?
She nestled her head against my chest and I knew that she was waiting until the queen took her leave so that we could do the same. She sat quietly for a moment and then glanced up at me.
“Your heart. It is beating so quickly, Hasani.”
It is beating while it still can, I thought. But of course I did not say that.
Instead, I replied, “It is your nearness, my beauty. You have that affect on me.”
That appeased her, because she knew it was true. She nestled back into my arms, her slender hand encircling my wrist, and silently watched the festivities surrounding us. The morbid, strange festivities that celebrated life even though we were on the brink of destruction.
The panic briefly returned, a feather-light flutter in my chest.
Could I do this? Could I walk away from this woman in the morning and leave her for a battle that I wouldn’t win? Could I truly do that? She was so small, so slight, so utterly delicate. How would she fend for herself without me?
I knew what would happen. After Antony and I lost, Octavian would take over the city. He would take Cleopatra captive and likely drag her back to Rome to parade around as his prize in his victory parade, his Triumph. She would hate that and I inwardly cringed at what would be her shame.
But I didn’t know what would happen to Charmian. Would she be allowed to travel with the queen? I doubted it. She would more than likely be left here. Octavian would require someone to run the palace. Perhaps he would use her services for that. The thought of him using her ‘services’ for anything else left me gripping the chair arms so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
Charmian turned to face me once again.
House of Thebes: The Beginning Page 8