Oh, the white lily of fear, its dazzling purity and peppery fragrance! That is the offering made by intrepid heroes!

Fear is love's twin. Fear makes love a two-edged sword.

I was afraid from the moment he left in the morning, as his silhouette grew smaller in the distance and was reduced to a trail of dust. I was afraid during the day: a poisoned arrow would burrow into his shoulder, a snake would slither under his armor. I was afraid at night when the howls of famished animals echoed through the woods. I was afraid of traitors and rebels.

Who could say whether we would meet in another life? My god remained silent, and what human would dare make such a promise when every mortal's promise is a lie?

I had lost everything: my weapons, my armor, my helmet. Now that we no longer galloped across the steppes, my horse was wasting away. Ania had grown aggressive, flying into rages, taking refuge in silence, always restless, running off in tears only to return with a stream of accusations. Forgive me, my sister, I would say, leave me here and set yourself free.

I had lost my white cranes, and lost my stars. Now I had nothing but love, that feeble flame on a vast plain shrouded in darkness. I had only that fire to talk to me, to warm me and support me as I struggled with the shadows and battled my fear.

The lily burns like fire. White blends into red. Fear is love. That was all that was left to me, all I had, all that kept me waiting, my life of love in which there was no room for regret.

Alexander was back! He threw down his arms, took off his clothes, and without a word, bore me off to his bed. His skin burned, his muscles still smelled of the tensions of a man who had endured many days' battle. New scars had come to hide the old. He was bleeding. Alexander had changed: I could read pain, determination, and anger in his face. I was riveted by his expression. Bloodied horses leaped from his eyes, hordes of savages with barely any clothes dropped from the trees and threw themselves on me. Alexander crushed my breasts and pummeled my stomach, hurting me. I could not breathe and kept my eyes wide open to tell him that it was me, Alestria, his beloved, whom he was assaulting in this way. Suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare, he froze, studied me attentively, and covered my eyes with his hand. His muscles relaxed, and his free hand stroked me gently, in spite of the calluses and wounds. Our bodies twisted and coiled under the sheets, our sweat mingled. Our breathing no longer told a tale of war but of a long and happy journey in which we would never have to part.

"Don't reject me, Alestria," he whispered. "Keep my life in your belly. Give me a child."

My heart leaped: Had he discovered the secret infusions that made Amazons sterile? Was that why he had looked at me strangely and grown so angry?

"I want you to give birth to a child in whom our two bloods will be mixed, our minds united, our bodies fused."

His words hammered into my head: Alexander knew nothing of the Great Queen's curse, or of the terrible death that snatches women in childbirth. He did not know that Alestria could lose this war.

"Are you afraid of the pain?" His voice continued to haunt me. "Are you afraid of dying?"

I shuddered: How could he read my thoughts?

"I will be beside you. I will draw the child from your belly. I will bind your wounds and tend you. And then, when we have won that sublime battle, all three of us will sleep together."

I did not know how or where to hide myself, how to disguise my secrets. Alexander was inside me, inside my head, giving me orders:

"Be brave. Without armor or weapons you can still be a warrior. By giving me a child you can conquer death, sweep aside conspirators, and destroy every enemy army. You alone in the whole world can grant me this victory. Don't be afraid! This world is yours. Beauty is you!"

News of revolts reached us from the front. We heard of attempts to assassinate the king and of how the conspirators were executed. According to the rumors, Bagoas tirelessly tracked down traitors and potential murderers. People were saying the king no longer consulted his friends but simply forced his army to keep advancing.

The king returned. Alexander, indefatigable, galloped toward his queen, and his queen ran out to meet him. Alestria could smile once more. She shut herself away in her tent with him, refusing to see anyone. She would not eat or drink because eating and drinking were a waste of time: she wanted to stay by his side, to grow drunk on the nearness of him.

But was Alexander truly in love with the queen?

He came back to inspect his rearguard forces. He spent the morning reading missives from all the Alexandrias, and dictating replies. Once his messengers had galloped off, he called in the commanders responsible for supplies. Huddled over maps of the Indies spread on a table in his tent, he discussed military advances with Ptolemy. During the afternoon he did the rounds of the men's quarters, checking their armor and trying out lances and arrows. He stopped by the stables and made inquiries about the breeding program. He brought unfamiliar fabric back to the weavers and explained to them how to make more robust clothes. He asked questions of the farmers and dawdled around his scientists, asking them to read some of their writings to him. He brought them gifts of new species of plants, insects, and animals and new kinds of stone, and together they went into raptures about the diversity of nature. He visited the wounded and lavished them with kind words-so many flattering lies, just like the words he spoke to my queen to ensure that she would endure the waiting patiently. But, comforted by his attentions, these men would get back up and set off for the front again with him to die there.

What he really came back for was to give my queen a child. Alexander furiously fertilized her belly in the hopes of spawning a multitude of descendants. He wanted three boys and three girls, and for those three boys and three girls to bring forth sixty princes to govern his empire. What he wanted, as Darius had before him, was to reign over the world of men forever.

Alexander knew I did not like him. He paid me compliments and gave me gifts. He took it into his head to find me a husband and asked me to choose from among his commanders. I was distracted with rage and humiliation, I, Ania, the queen's intransigent serving woman. I did not like him; I did not even admire him. I loathed him for caging the Amazons who were so wild and free.

I took my revenge on him in secret, keeping quiet the sense of pride it afforded me. When the king left the queen's bed to talk to his soldiers I brought Alestria a double portion of the infusion that made her sterile. The queen of the Amazons would bear no child for the king of warriors. Our bodies were not vehicles for masculine domination-our eternity lay in teaching future generations. Our blood had no ambitions to invade the blood of other peoples-our strength converted them.

Alexander came back. He rested in Alestria's belly, robbing her strength, and then left again. My queen grew thinner: rumors about the obstacles her husband faced had built a nest in her head and laid a clutch of concerns there. She obstinately hid her fears, never complaining about her life of imprisonment. The suffering that burned her and the physical effort she put into silently fighting that fire still managed to make her look radiant. I had never seen my queen more focused or more serene looking. That beauty, sculpted by a combination of pain and dignity, was incomprehensible to Alexander's courtiers. People whispered that she had a lover; they said a young warrior from Thessaly, recently arrived in camp with Greek reinforcements, had seduced the queen with his fresh face and young body not yet damaged in war. They said this Thessalian nobleman was transfixed by the queen; he wanted to steal her from Alexander and run away with her.