The Itch for Something Wild

1
Three years into my marriage with the woman I’d once moved heaven and earth for, a suffocating boredom had settled over my life.
The thought of spending the rest of my days with just one person made my skin crawl. It was an itch I desperately needed to scratch.
Just as I was plotting how to find a little excitement behind my wife’s back, my younger brother, Leo, appeared with a royal decree in his hands.
“Brother,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, “His Majesty needs an envoy in the southern province of Veridia. The floods have caused chaos, and someone needs to restore order.”
A spark ignited within me. This was my chance. But then, a familiar worry crept in. My wife, Eleanor, would never let me go alone. She’d insist on following, smothering me with her devotion.
Leo, seeing the hesitation in my eyes, offered a reassuring, almost sycophantic, smile. “You go and make your mark, brother. I’ll stay behind and take care of everything… including Eleanor.”
…
The moment the words left his lips, we heard footsteps approaching the study. They were light, delicate, punctuated by the soft clinking of silver charms on a belt.
I didn’t need to guess. It was my wife.
As expected, she entered without knocking, clad in a sea-green gown and carrying a small bowl. It was her honey-lotus pudding. Her eyes met mine, and she graced me with that gentle, placid smile of hers.
“You’ve been working so hard, my love,” she murmured. “I made this for you. Please, try it.”
Then, as if just noticing my brother, she feigned a look of surprise. “Oh, Leo! I didn’t realize you were here. I only made one bowl. What a pity.”
Every gesture, every word, was exactly as I’d predicted. There were no surprises with Eleanor anymore. No thrill. It was utterly, painfully dull.
Looking at her, the last vestiges of guilt I felt for wanting to stray simply evaporated. This life was a cage, and surely, my loving wife wouldn’t want me to wither away in it, would she?
“Your cooking is divine, Eleanor,” Leo sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame I’m not blessed enough to enjoy it.”
His voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at him, his eyes fixed on the pudding with an almost pathetic longing. I couldn’t fathom why he’d use a word like “blessed” for a simple dessert.
Eleanor, despite being the daughter of a Marquis, had none of the ambition or grace of her station. She was content to potter around in our estate’s kitchens, experimenting with sweets. I’ll admit, they were delicious. If she’d only been willing to apply that talent to my businesses, she could have been of some real use. But she only wanted to create, never to profit, presenting me with her concoctions day after day, asking for my opinion until even the most exquisite flavors turned to ash in my mouth.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed the bowl across the desk to Leo. “Here, you have it. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you’re cursed without it.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “Brother, I couldn’t. This is from Eleanor… a token of her love for you.”
God, I hated it when these military types tried to sound like poets. He was practically drooling, yet he still had to put on this noble act. Such a hypocrite.
“I’ve had too many sweets today,” I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t want it.”
As I said it, I saw something flicker across Eleanor’s usually serene face: pure, unadulterated shock. It was as if I’d struck her. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, welled with tears.
Without a single word, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room. Not a bow, not a curtsy. Not an ounce of decorum.
I frowned, a sharp rebuke on the tip of my tongue. But with Leo still here, I held it back, rubbing my temples in frustration. My affection had spoiled her, it seemed. It had made her bold enough to show me such disrespect.
My mind drifted back to the day I had knelt for hours outside her family’s manor, proclaiming my undying love in front of a crowd of nobles, swearing an oath of fidelity—one man, one woman, for all time.
If I had known then how painfully predictable she would become, I would never have made such a foolish vow. Now, if I so much as exchanged a pleasant word with another woman, rumors would fly, and some court sycophant would be reporting my “infidelity” to the King.
“Brother, is she angry?” Leo’s voice was laced with feigned concern. “Was it my fault? I shouldn’t have been so greedy.”
His apology only fueled my irritation. It was just a damn bowl of pudding, and she was throwing a tantrum. How could a woman so petty ever be fit to be the Duchess of my estate?

2
That night, Leo devoured the honey-lotus pudding, practically licking the bowl clean. If I hadn’t stopped him, he probably would have taken the dish with him. I despised that about him. He was the only trueborn son of the Duke, yet he carried himself like a common street rogue with no ambition.
Thankfully, the laws of succession in our kingdom were clear: the title passes to the firstborn, not the son of the primary wife. Otherwise, I couldn’t imagine how long our great House would last in his clumsy hands.
I sighed, watching him leave before instructing my page to buy a box of cakes from the East Street bakery. Eleanor had a sweet tooth, both for making and eating desserts. Usually, whenever I upset her, a simple offering of pastries was enough to bring back her smile. Her temper was like a kitten’s scratch—sharp for a moment, then easily soothed. It was amusing at first, but now, it just felt tiresome. I’d rather have a courtesan from the pleasure district who could throw a playful insult while fanning herself with a silk handkerchief.
Shaking my head, I took the box of cakes from the page and went to our chambers.
Eleanor was there, just as I’d expected, sitting at her vanity and brushing her hair. She didn’t even look up when I entered.
I slid up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist in a gesture of reconciliation. “My dear, forgive my harsh words. I never meant to cause you pain.”
Our eyes met in the polished bronze mirror.
“Who ate the pudding?” she asked, her voice flat.
I didn’t understand her obsession with this trivial matter. What did it matter if I ate it or Leo ate it? We were family. Frankly, it was her fault for only making one serving. My giving it away was a sign of brotherly generosity, and still, she chose to be difficult.
I forced a smile. “I did, of course. How could I give away something made for me with such care?”
A small, knowing smile touched her lips. “Good.”
I placed the box of cakes in her lap and watched her expression closely. Seeing the familiar delight return to her eyes, I relaxed. “Eleanor, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”
This time, however, she didn’t tear into the box with her usual excitement. She merely glanced at it before setting it aside on her vanity. I was surprised but didn’t dwell on it. People change. If I could predict her every move, I wouldn't have fought so hard to marry her in the first place. A little change wasn’t a crisis; it was… intriguing.
“His Majesty wants to send an envoy to Veridia to restore order after the floods. I want to volunteer.”
She finally turned to look at me, her gaze steady. “Do you have to go?”
I nodded, launching into the speech I had prepared. “Our House has lost favor at court. If I succeed in Veridia, I could earn great prestige for our family. It might be the key to securing my position as the official Heir to the Duchy.”
It was true. While the law favored the firstborn, my father had broken his marriage pact with the Duke’s official wife by taking my mother, who was already pregnant with me, as a consort. The King, in his fury, had stripped our House of its guaranteed succession, leaving the title of Heir in limbo. For years, I had schemed and strived, but I could never reclaim the title outright. His Majesty forbade both me and Leo from earning glory on the battlefield, so this mission to Veridia was my only real chance.
I laid all this out for Eleanor.
She listened patiently, then offered a serene smile. “If this is about securing your legacy, then I would never stand in your way.” She paused, her eyes unreadable. “If your mind is made up, then you should go.”
Her calm acceptance left me feeling strangely hollow. She didn’t even ask to come with me.
How odd.

3
Still, her not asking saved me the trouble of inventing an excuse to leave her behind. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As I was about to leave, I noticed a bowl sitting on the windowsill. It looked identical to the one that had held the honey-lotus pudding.
But this one was pristine, as if it had never been used. It struck me as strange. Eleanor never bought things in pairs; she found it wasteful.
Curious, I asked, “Why did you buy two identical bowls?”
She paused for a moment, then gave me an enigmatic smile. “If you believe them to be the same, my love, then I suppose they are.”
Her tone had a sharp, sarcastic edge to it, but it was just a bowl. It wasn’t worth arguing over. I swallowed my annoyance.
“I’m going to the palace to see His Majesty,” I said. “I’ll need you to pack for me. The situation in Veridia is dire; I’ll probably need a good deal of coin.”
Eleanor smiled and agreed. Reassured, I left the estate and made my way to the royal palace.
The King wasn’t surprised to see me. He asked me only one question: “In your estimation, what is the true source of the turmoil in Veridia?”
I bowed respectfully. “Corruption, Your Majesty. I suspect the relief funds and grain shipments never reached the people who needed them.”
The King raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He simply motioned for a eunuch to bring me the official decree and the robes of a Royal Emissary.
On the day of my departure, Eleanor and Leo came to see me off at the city gates. I was dressed in the deep green of my station, while they both wore plain, unadorned white. Standing together, the contrast was jarring, almost offensive.
“Eleanor,” I couldn’t help but say, “while I’m gone, perhaps you could wear some other colors. You look so drab in white all the time.”
She didn’t answer, but Leo piped up with a grin. “Why pick on her, brother? I’m wearing white too. Besides, she’s been dressing this way for a while now. Why does it bother you today?”
He was far more talkative than usual.
“You’re noisy,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
Eleanor shot me a look. “You should get going. The roads are treacherous after dark.”
I nodded, signaling the driver to move. As the carriage lurched forward, an odd impulse made me pull back the curtain for one last look. I saw Eleanor pinching Leo’s ear, a stern look on her face. He was saying something, and then he broke into a placating, boyish grin.
It was strange, but I dismissed it. I knew how much Eleanor loved me. For her, Leo would always be just a brother-in-law. Nothing more.
We traveled day and night, finally reaching the province of Veridia before the month was out. The moment I set foot in the capital, Port Seraphine, the sheer opulence of the place was staggering.
Everywhere I looked, there were jewels and precious metals. Women were draped in gold and silver, and even the men wore heavy, expensive-looking signet rings and jade cufflinks. The common folk on the street were adorned with glittering baubles. This was the wealthiest region in the kingdom, no doubt about it.
I didn’t start my investigation right away. After parting with my driver, I rented a small, private villa—costly, but Eleanor had packed plenty of silver. That evening, under the cloak of darkness, I changed into common clothes and made my way to the city’s most famous pleasure house, The Silken Siren.
My timing was perfect. They were auctioning off a young dancer’s first night. I wasn’t interested. Inexperienced girls were often more trouble than they were worth—even more awkward than Eleanor.
Sipping my wine, I scanned the room, my eyes drifting over the courtesans. And then I saw her. A vision in crimson silk, her every movement a symphony of seduction.
My heart hammered against my ribs.

4
I summoned the house madam, my voice tight with anticipation. Pointing to the dancer, I said, “Her. I want her for the night.”
Before the madam could even begin to haggle, I slapped a heavy gold sovereign down on the table. Her professional smile instantly became genuine. She led me to a private suite and had a bottle of the finest wine delivered.
A short while later, the woman of my dreams arrived. She was dressed in veils of silk so thin they were almost transparent, her body a masterpiece of feminine allure. I was mesmerized. I reached out, my hand tracing the soft, supple curve of her waist.
This, I thought with a deep, satisfying sigh, is what a woman should feel like.
She was nothing like Eleanor, who would go rigid with shyness beneath me. Nothing like my wife, who seemed to view intimacy as a duty, a task to be completed with quiet resignation. As I held this dancer in my arms, ready to lose myself in her, my mind flashed back to my wedding night.
Eleanor, beautiful and virginal in her crimson wedding gown, had looked exquisite. I had anticipated a night of passion. Instead, her shyness had been a wall between us. No matter what I did, she remained tense, unyielding. I told myself it was just first-night nerves, that she would soften with time.
But she never did. She seemed to resist the very idea of physical pleasure. Worse, she had declared that she would not bear me a child until I had officially secured the title of Heir. Such a cold, calculating heart. Such a passionless existence.
My thoughts returned to the present. The dancer from The Silken Siren was a true artist. One night with her was enough to make me feel reborn, to make me want to spend an eternity in her bed.
But I hadn’t forgotten my mission entirely. After three nights of bliss, I finally roused myself and began my investigation. Yet no matter where I looked or who I spoke to, Port Seraphine remained a picture of perfect prosperity. The people were wealthy, happy, and spoke of the local authorities with nothing but praise. There wasn't a hint of the turmoil the King had spoken of.
I started to doubt His Majesty’s intelligence. But soon enough, my mind was elsewhere again. The dancer was intoxicating. I, who had never considered myself a man of great appetites, found myself wanting her at all hours, indulging in decadent, sun-drenched afternoons of lovemaking. Before I knew it, I had become her sole patron.
Time slipped away. Nearly three months had passed since I’d left the capital. For the first month, I’d received letters from both Eleanor and Leo—mundane updates about the household, polite inquiries about my health. I sent back brief replies and a few local silks and spices. But then the dancer had consumed my thoughts, and I forgot all about writing home.
It was only when I realized my funds were dwindling that I noticed it had been over a month since I’d received a letter from either of them. I was a little surprised. I considered writing to ask what was wrong, but then a better idea struck me. There was no unrest in Veridia, the new year was approaching, and my money was almost gone. It was the perfect time to return to the capital.
The local officials, hearing of my departure, threw me a lavish farewell banquet, complete with a troupe of dancers. Another night of pleasure. Stroking the dancer’s soft skin, a pang of regret hit me. After I returned to the capital, when would I ever see her again? She was everything I wanted in a woman.
A bold, reckless idea took root in my mind.
Secretly, using the last of my silver, I bought the dancer’s freedom. I smuggled her into my carriage, hidden from view, and we set off for home.
We had just passed through the city gates when my carriage came to an abrupt halt. I looked out to see Eleanor standing in the road, with Leo at her side, blocking our path.
“Julian,” she called out, her voice dangerously calm. “You’ve returned to the capital, yet you aren’t heading home. Are you in a rush to get somewhere else?”
A spike of fear and annoyance shot through me. If Eleanor discovered the dancer, there would be a terrible scene. The scandal would spread through the court, and the Royal Censors would have a field day.
I sighed, ready to offer some flimsy excuse.
Then Eleanor’s voice rang out, sharp as shattering glass. “Julian Vance, get out of that carriage now, or we are filing for a divorce!”

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