78. Groom

We stayed that way for several heartbeats, our thudding in time with each other.

Then, as if enough miracles had not happened, he smiled.

I could not see it.

It was against my head.

But I felt it.

I had never seen this man smile, nothing but a relaxation of his lower face in circumstances where anyone else would have been smiling.

But against my head, he smiled and I felt it and I, at last, remembered to thank my goddess.

He remained plagued by a hard prick and I, in an effort to be a good wife, offered him mundanity as succor.

“Where were you today?”

He spoke into my hair.

“Ruskar has broken their trade agreements with Tintar.

I was in war councils.

Do not repeat this.

It is not yet public.”

“Are we— Are we to war?”

I withdrew my face from him.

“Will you conduct a restrained invasion on their island?”

I could not, would not, lose this man to battle, not when I myself was destined for death so soon.

I would die first and I would die making him mine.

He shook his head.

“The king and all his advisors have decided to wait.

They give no reason for this.

They closed their docks this morning and did not allow in any Tintarian vessels.”

“Perpatane,” I said.

He nodded.

“That is what I too believe.

They have been bought with gold.”

“I cannot—”

I started and stopped, afraid to speak the absolute truth.

I gave him half of one.

“I cannot stand to know you could be in danger.

If they invade, don’t go.”

He removed his hands from my back and head and cupped my face.

“So wifely.”

“It is wifely to want you alive?”

“It is wifely to worry so.

I like when you worry about me.”

“I like when you worry about me.”

I chose cheer over fretting with my next words.

“Be that as it may, there are other wifely things I would rather do than worry.”

“And just as my dilemma has begun to go away, it returns.”

“I’m sorry,”

I said with some insolence and much elation at my effect on him.

He pursed his lips.

“I believed your first apology.

I do not believe your second.”

“You told me not to apologize for touching you,”

I reminded him.

“For touching me, not for filling my mind with lust in a room that contains hundreds.”

“Oh, there are other people here?”

I asked innocently.

“I had not noticed.”

His thumbs stroked my face.

“Truthfully, neither had I.

You are distracting, wife.”

“How do I distract?”

I asked, my eyelids heavy with so many things, drink, drug, hunger, love and desire, but primarily, as he spoke, gratification.

“Speaking of such things will make you have to apologize a third time.”

“Well, I would like a little flattery, husband.

We are but newly wed.”

“That is so.

Well, then I will confess one thing to you.”

“Confess it.”

My whisper was greedy.

He lowered his hands to take mine from his chest and hold them, lowering them to our sides.

He was still close to me, still trying to soften himself.

He leaned in and in my left ear he said, still in his constantly even tone, no emphasis on any word, “The scent of lavender makes me think of—”

“Sir?”

came an uncomfortable voice.

We parted, but only just so, seeing a young man in Tintarian black armor.

He looked out of place in the merriment of the holiday and the brewery.

“The King and his council wish to see you and your sergeants.

At the keep.

In his chambers.”

“My sergeants are drunk, one or the both of them possibly swiving.”

Alric was blunt.

The poor boy opened his mouth and tried to speak but nothing came out.

“Wait outside for me,”

he ordered.

“I am with my wife.

I will be out shortly.”

I did not notice the boy’s exit as all I could think of was my husband in peril, mustering up an invading force with Jeremanthy, only to be slain on Ruskar.

I did not know what pathetic army their island, mostly filled with vineyards and forests, could battle with Tintar, but I did not like the chance he could be at risk.

“Do not worry,”

he implored, sensing my panic.

“Our king is this way.

He will conclude a gathering, only to recall all of its attendees soon after to say yet one more thing.”

I had never heard him speak so close to disrespect of Hinnom.

I pleaded, “come to our room.

When you are done, please come to me.”

“Edith,”

he said, leaning towards me, my hands still in his.

“Tonight you are my bride and I am your bridegroom.

Nothing will keep me from our bed.”

I closed my eyes, terrified at what they might reveal to him.