Chapter 35 | Ravinica

Chapter 35

Ravinica

BY THE TIME CORYM WAS finishing telling the workers at the spring-hold who we were, Zentha had returned.

The regal handmaiden bowed to Magnus. “Your keeper is in good hands, varus .”

“He’s not my keeper, ma’am,” the bloodrender grumbled.

I quirked him a smile, then took his tattooed hand in mine, running a finger over his knuckles.

“Let me show you to your estate,” Zentha said, taking command of the group. The two workers Corym had been conversing with at the front of the building bowed their heads to her, showing me that Zentha may have been a “handmaid” here, but she had much more power and authority than she was letting on.

The elven lady led us into the multi-level building of white stone. Inside, the roof was vaulted, the craftsmanship of the carpentry immaculate. Hersir Jorthyr, our shipbuilding teacher, would be in awe.

I made a face at that thought, thinking, Ew. Definitely don’t want Ingvus on my damned mind right now.

The hall was narrow, forcing us to move single-file behind Zentha. It reminded me of a spa, or a Japanese bath house. Small doors dotted the walls to our left and right.

Through the doors, I heard various sounds: conversing, laughing . . . and moaning.

My cheeks flamed. I glanced up ahead at Corym. “Um, what is this place?”

Zentha answered for him from the top of the group. “The Mi’lifair Home is one of the premier spring-holds in Alokana’s Emerald District.”

“Emerald for green roofs, first level,” Corym explained. “Sapphire for blue roofs, second level. Ruby for royalty, third level.”

Zentha continued on, out of the hall, through a lavender-smelling garden, and into another section of the place. It was much bigger inside than it had looked from the outside.

“Mi’lifair acts as a rest-house, leisure-den, and pleasure-hall. It is a prime location for dalliances of nurturemaids.”

I blinked, glanced over my shoulder, and saw my mates—the human ones—were just as lost as me. “I . . . didn’t understand any of that,” I said, feeling dumb.

Zentha chuckled in her airy, heavenly way, and Corym joined her. “I’ll explain when we get there, love. Wouldn’t want your cheeks to flame any brighter than they already are.”

I scowled at his backside but accepted that.

“This is better than, uh, a tavern?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.

Zentha said, “Unless you’d like the pleasure-hall aspect to be in full view rather than behind closed doors, maelen. ”

I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, so I just chuckled nervously. Is she talking about people fucking in public, while other people are drinking around them? Sounds . . . well, I’m not sure how that sounds. Part of me wants to say nasty. The other part wants to say deliciously enticing.

Magnus caught on, his voice gone thick in a way that made my blood rush. “Perhaps we’ll need to visit one of these famed elven taverns at some point, silvermoon.”

Zentha giggled again. She stopped us at a door, sliding it open, and gestured inside. “Your spring-hold.”

My mates went inside first, “oohing” and “ahhing” at every little thing they saw. It was a layered room, vast, as big as ten cave-dwellings underneath Vikingrune. Windows on the other side let in shade, looking out into the garden we’d passed through. I imagined it was beautiful near sundown, when sunlight would bathe the ornamental garden.

Fluffy couches, beds, and ornate tables lined the center of the space, but set up in a way that didn’t clutter the room.

Grim slid a door off to the side open, and looking in, said, “Shit. There’s the hot spring.” His voice was excited. “Or is it a sauna?”

“Couples as both,” Corym explained, walking up to him and slapping him on the shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to your rest and relaxation, then, maelen , if everything is suitable?”

I turned to Zentha’s voice. With a small nod, I said, “Seems so, ma’am. Thank you.” I gave her a small bow, as I’d seen the other workers do when regarding the handmaid.

Zentha gave me a coy smile, mirth dancing in her shining yellow eyes, and leaned in. “I would recommend specific male suitors to meet your wants and provide entertainment while you stay, maelen . . .” Her eyes flicked into the room, to my strapping mates. “. . . But it seems you have that covered.”

My cheeks burned like the sun. “Um.” I swallowed hard, nodding fiercely. “Y-Yes, thank you, Zentha. I think I’ve got things covered.” Getting some of my confidence back after her flat-out offer to send me male escorts, I winked at her.

Zentha bowed low, hands clasped in front of her again. “The garnish vanity is in the room to the left, maelen .”

“The garnish—what?”

She was already gone, sashaying down the hall.

I watched her go, thinking, Gods, what a wild woman.

Then I made my way inside, sliding the door closed behind us. There was a distinct scent that filled the room, totally different than the manly smell my mates brought inside. It was light, quaint, and filled my head with a buzz when I first stepped in.

Furrowing my brow, I said, “Anyone else smell that? And feel that?”

I didn’t want to blurt it out loud, but the scent and headiness was quickening my blood. My legs felt wobbly, relaxed, and I couldn’t stop from squishing my thighs together to try and stave off some of the heat pooling at the base of my belly.

Corym smiled. “Starberry infusion, lunis’ai .”

“That doesn’t smell like any strawberry I’ve ever smelled.”

He laughed, walking up to me. Towering over me and looking oh-so-delectable in the sudden rush of lustfulness that swept through me. It took everything not to go on my tiptoes and make out with him right there.

“Not strawberry, love,” he said in a low voice. “Starberry. Native to Alfheim, they are . . . mood-setters, when reducted to their essence.” The smoldering of his eyes told me he was feeling the same effects of the starberries .

“Unholy Hel,” Sven groaned, still shirtless. He pawed at his crotch, walking with an odd, uncomfortable-looking limp as he made his way toward the hot spring. “Setting the mood is right. I could fuck for ten hours in here!”

My head reeled as the sounds of laughter from Sven, Grim, and Magnus filled the room. Arne stayed quiet, almost hesitant to move far from the center of the room. Corym just smiled down at me, then dipped his head and kissed me lightly on the lips.

“I agree with the wolf,” he said in the shell of my ear, earning a sprouting of goosebumps from his honey-smooth voice.

“Gods above,” I breathed, turning away from him before I jumped his bones. “What is this place? You’re sure they aren’t trying to lull us into a false sense of security, Corym?”

He followed me like a hound, down the two-step landing that led to the wider expanse of the hold. “Yes, this is common in Alokana.”

“You didn’t tell me elves were so horny!”

He laughed. Most my other mates had left the main room now, and were chatting in the hot spring room. Arne remained behind.

“Didn’t I?” Corym said, making a thinking face. He tapped his chin. “I must have at least hinted at it.”

“What is a nurturewife?” I asked while sliding across the room to the left. “Zentha said this place was a prime location for ‘nurturewife dalliances.’”

It was spotless and pristine in here, and made me feel dirty even dragging my muddy boots into the hall. I’d never seen a more ornate room in my life, with beautiful tapestries and colorful stained-glass shelves covering the walls.

Corym ran a hand through his glorious hair, scratching his head. “Well, a nurturewife is a woman or in’kylin of childbearing age in Alfheim. Before landing on her mate, or mates, she . . . tests them. The suitor who makes her pregnant becomes her first husband. Then she can decide whether she wants to continue nurturing , as we call it, and have more children. Either with her husband or another.”

My eyes bulged when he casually explained that women here had such control over their love life, their childbearing decisions, and seemingly everything else. “Holy shit,” I said, gawking. “So every woman here gets to live the life I’m living, without shame or ridicule? They don’t have to choose their husbands?”

Corym smiled. “An interesting way to look at it, lunis’ai . You’re mostly correct. However, they don’t choose their husbands, necessarily. The children born choose for them. So there is a slight difference.”

I scratched my cheek, feeling hot and bothered by all this information. No wonder all the men are shirtless or barely clothed here. They’re trying to attract the best nurturewife they can, just like I thought before.

“As to the shame, there is none of that among our people. It is highly encouraged for a woman to have ten, twenty children. Our lifespans are long, and new throngs of whelps are always needed to fill our armies’ ranks.”

It seemed like a barbaric system when he put it like that, and yet a cutting-edge, drastically freeing one on the other hand. I couldn’t make heads or tails of how I thought about “nurturewives,” but given my own situation . . . I was leaning toward supporting it.

It’s about time women are given the keys to the queendom. Excuse me—the nation.

I thought deeper about it. “How does the nurturewife know which child belongs to which man, if she fucked, say, ten of them to get pregnant?”

Corym’s smile turned lusty. “There are spells for that.”

“Ha!” I barked. “Of course there are.” I trailed my hand gently across the surfaces of the nearest table, the stained-glass shelves, and came to the leftmost door Zentha had told me about. “And what about our handmaid? Zentha?”

Corym shrugged, following close behind me, as if he could scent the arousal emanating from my core. “Zentha herself will be a nurturewife, I’m sure, with countless suitors. Women of her station are always the most coveted. Men will war and challenge and brawl for the first taste of her.”

“Gods. That sounds . . . amazing.”

He laughed. “I’m sure she must agree, being given the pick of the litter.”

I swung the door open and peeked inside, utterly curious.

A strangled sound pushed past my lips at the door.

“What is it, lunis’ai ?”

“I think I found the, uh, garnish vanity.” I laughed despite myself, in disbelief. “What a cheeky fucking thing, calling this a ‘garnish’ room. Vanity? Sure. I see it.”

Arne crept up behind us. After hearing our conversation play out, the sad boy was clearly as curious as I was.

Corym joined my side, looking into the room. “Ah, yes. More mood-setters.”

It was a room filled with shelves and shelves of different sized sex toys—dildos, strap-ons, gags, whips, chains, various bottles of lubricant, even a gods-damnd sex swing apparatus, plus dozens of other things I couldn’t readily identify.

“Mood-setters?” I choked out with a scoff, eyes wide at the unparalleled raunchiness that seemed to inhabit every inch of Ljosalfar life. “This is a whole-ass mood buffet! More like mood- enders . You use all this, you ain’t walking out of that room.”

“Perhaps we should put that theory to the test?” Corym whispered in my ear.

“Well,” Arne’s voice piped up, peeking over our shoulders. “Definitely aren’t going to find this little tidbit in the history tomes back at Vikingrune Academy.”