The King's Last Council
Leon's mansion on that night was devoured by passion. Behind doors, the walls shook with laughter, sighs, and the type of breathless gasps that caused time itself to lose track of how to proceed. Leon and his wives gave themselves over completely—skin to skin, whispers against lips, their bodies entwined in a wild dance that continued until the first light on the horizon threatened to compromise them.
There were no queens' roles, no duty burdens, no masks—just women who loved, and the man in whose hands their hearts lay. The night became wild, tender, unfettered; each room seemed to resound with their cries and laughter until weariness at last conspired to pack them into a twisted knot of heat and perspiration.
