Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

types of blood and the five elements. The kid was a pure intellectual, way smarter than I first gave him credit for, and he used me as a sounding board for years. I watched him grow from a child to a young man, gangly-limbed and spotty, with joints that ached from growing so fast and sporting a perpetual teenage hard on. He pulled his hair down to hide his eyes and face, but as far as I knew, he'd never done anyone magical harm, unlike his mother. More likely, he was hiding because he felt conspicuous, like every other youth his age.
    "I hate it," he moaned, covering his face with his hands as he lay on the temple floor. "I'm even more of a pariah than I was before."
    You're becoming a man. It's a process, Eryx. Be patient.
    "But I hate it! I just… I want all the time, and there are other boys who find willing girls and go off with them, but it isn't…" He shifted uncomfortably. "It isn't them I want."
    I scoffed as well as I could via magical thought. Then find a willing boy. Gods, the times can't have changed that much.
    "No boys are willing to go off with me either," he huffed, "because I'm so… different." Had my life been so dramatic when I was his age? I was sure it hadn't. You are the only son of a powerful sorceress. Regardless of how you look, there are boys who'd be willing to enjoy themselves with you. And you look fine, I hastened to add when he glared up at me. Soon you'll be a handsome man, and you won't have to search for company, it will come to you.
    "I wish you were really here," Eryx murmured, looking up at me beneath long, dark lashes. "Then I could just do it all with you."
    I hadn't wished so hard for a real body in years. I had no interest in boys, but I had always preferred men's bodies to women's when it came to sating my needs, and someday Eryx would be the kind of man I had been drawn to. Someday, he would be the kind of man I wanted to throw down and taste, to torment with my tongue and lips and oil-slicked fingers until he was begging me to take him. And when I did, it would be so good, fast and hard and tight enough to make me scream with the rapture of release…
    But not today. Today, Eryx needed to get over himself and get back to Stageira and study, and I told him as much. He apparently didn't appreciate my candor.
    "What do you know about it? You haven't been an actual person for a hundred years! I hate you!" Eryx shouted at me as he stormed off, and I felt his absence keenly.
    I felt the distance between us more than ever over the next several years. Eryx had found a boy to enjoy himself with, and he came to me no more. I didn't begrudge him the experience of growing up, but I did wonder, more than once, just how foolish I had been to place my trust in a child. There was no guarantee the boy had inherited his mother's powers; he had never mentioned a thing about magic to me. The only evidence I had to give me hope was his ability to hear me speak, but that might be the extent of his gifts. It might even be better if it was. Eryx could go on and live his life, a normal life, not one extended past its natural length like Ligia's or my own wretched existence. He could survive his youth and enjoy his old age and die happy.
    The Fates weren't so kind to him.
    The next time Eryx actually spoke to me, he was nearly a man, taller and broader through his chest and shoulders. His dark hair tousled easily into curls, and his face was slim and handsome. The whiteness of his eyes was barely noticeable when there were such riches to draw the gaze. I could not convey my appreciation, though. It wouldn't have been right, and he wasn't in the mood to listen anyway.
    He sat down at my feet, a gesture that reminded me poignantly of the child he had once been. His head dipped low, and one hand made trails through the dust. "My mother lost her temper today," he said finally, his voice so soft I could barely hear it. "With a servant. The plate she brought my mother's meal on was made of polished bronze, and Mother does not like to see her reflection. When she screamed, the girl groveled and begged for her life. But instead, Mother uncovered her head, and when the girl looked up, she turned to stone. Like you. But then… Mother broke her, pushed her down the steps. I felt her die as she crumbled into pieces." He looked up at me, eyes bright and wet.
    "It's the first time I've seen her do it. I know you said she did, but I hoped… I hoped it was something else. Anything else. An act of the gods,