by Roxie Ray
I knew that Alora and I were destined to be together—in some way. Somehow. She deserved to be privy to that knowledge too.
I just needed to find some manner of speaking to her alone.
But when I opened the door of my chambers to seek Alora out, I was greeted by a messenger with a scroll from King Brixta himself.
It was good news, albeit a bittersweet kind.
Go see your mothers before my magnificent wedding to the beautiful Alora, my friend, the scroll read. Go in peace immediately, knowing that you have served me well.
It was signed at the bottom with King Brixta’s sloppy penmanship. I knew him well enough to understand that it was not simply permission—it was an order.
And as much as I loathed the idea of leaving Alora alone in the palace, I knew it was an order that I had to obey.
Moonsong Temple was nestled in the mountains to the north of the capital, in the same direction as Lord Haelian’s palace. As I traveled there on the back of the many-legged steppe-beast I had been granted from the palace’s stables, I wondered if this visit home was not a test of some kind.
King Brixta may not have known about the night Alora and I had shared, but he had surely not forgotten that I had served under Lord Haelian once, long ago. Fifteen years had passed on Lunaria while I was stranded on Edon. In those fifteen years, much had changed here. I had not yet had a chance to speak with my former commander, the only remaining leader of the rebellion against King Brixta.
As I tied my steppe-beast to a post at the foot of the temple’s steps, I listened to the wind for a moment and waited to hear movement behind me. I would not put it past King Brixta to have me followed.
But there was no sound. Nothing but the bells hung from the mountainside the temple’s steps had been carved into and the gentle whistling of the breeze.
As I climbed the steps, a calm passed over me, one that I had not felt since I had last been home. Moonsong Temple had an aura of serenity around it, one that even the worst of my worries for the future could not win out over. The scent of citrus trees relaxed my muscles as it filled my nose. The furrow in my brow was erased by the warmth of the gentle wind on my face. And when I mounted the final step—
“Ronan!” Mother Jara ran to me, her long white hair flowing free behind her and all four arms outstretched. When she hugged me, her face pressed against my stomach. The top of her head barely came up to my waist. “I thought I felt a shift in the energy here! Oh, how we have missed you, my boy!”
“Ronan?” Mother Yeta looked up from the temple’s well. She dropped the bucket of water she had just hauled up back into the well’s mouth as our eyes met. Then she ran over to throw all four of her arms around me as well, her cheek pressed against my shoulder fondly. “What a surprise! We were not expecting you, Ronan. You should have sent word!”
“You would have known if you had simply listened to the moons, you old crone,” Mother Mozula croaked. She struck out at the other two with the gnarled tips of her four twisted canes, knocking them away from me with strikes to the backs of their knees. Mother Mozula was no taller than my hip, and nearly as wide. She grinned up at me toothlessly, then reached up to tap me on the forehead with one of her canes. “You have been in all my meditations, Ronan. Come in, why don’t you, and tell us all about these dreams you’ve been having.”
“Dreams?” Mother Jara gave Mother Yeta a look of confusion, then shifted her gaze up to me again. “What dreams, Ronan?”
“Perhaps you should ask Mother Mozula,” I said with an arch of my eyebrow. “Apparently she already knows.”
“Mother Mozula knows all, my cub.” Mother Mozula cackled as she hobbled back toward the looming columns of the temple, carved from glowing purple crystal. “Yeta, make yourself useful and put on some tea for us. Ronan has much to share.”
Over steaming cups of greeble-leaf tea, I spilled out the details of my time on Edon to my mothers. I had not been blessed with the chance to see them since I had returned, and the single letter I had sent them had been far too brief to explain all that had occurred there. I told them of the holy cave on Edon, the one with a crystal ceiling exactly like the caves of the ancestors here on Lunaria. I told them of the four-armed skeletons I had found in the back of the cave, the ancient paintings that implied that once, we four-armed Lunarians had been the true kings of our people.
And then, a little more tentatively, I told them of my dreams. Of being crowned before a blazing bonfire. Of the beautiful human at my side…and even, with a little pressing from Mother Mozula, of the cub I had dreamed cradled in Alora’s arms.
“And this human female…she is promised to King Brixta?” Mother Jara’s voice was tight with trepidation.
“King Brixta? Pah!” The fire beneath the kettle sizzled as Mother Mozula spat into its flames. “Brixta is an impostor. Did you not listen to a single thing our cub just said?”
“We heard, Mother Mozula. But…this does pose a problem, you must admit.” Mother Yeta drew a deep breath as she smoothed her frizzled gray hair from her face. “How do you intend to right this, Ronan? You must understand that these dreams imply a certain mandate of fate.”
“If fate is the one mandating this, then I am hoping that fate will prove to be more of a friend in the future.” I pulled my lips into a harsh, thin line. “Alora’s wedding to Brixta is only a few days away now. If I leave in the morning, I will barely make it to the ceremony in time.”
Mother Yeta and Mother Jara shared a nervous look.
“We have taught you poorly then, Ronan,” said Mother Jara. “You do not understand fate at all. Only you can shape your destiny. There will be great cosmic repercussions should you fail to secure what fate wills.”
“Perhaps you will return to the capital with me and explain that to Alora, in that case.” I sighed. Of course, fate would choose to saddle me with its mandates without any intention of helping me fulfill them. Far from the first time, I wondered if perhaps I was cursed. “We shared a night together, but—”
“You did?” Mother Jara clapped her hands over her mouth and giggled. “Oh, Ronan! You little scoundrel!”
“You bedded her, and she is still not yours?” Mother Mozula swung for me with her cane. Thankfully, I caught it before she could smack me upside the head with it. “You must not have done a very good job of it, then! Go back immediately, Ronan—and do it properly this time!”
“Now, Mother Mozula.” Mother Yeta patted my arm sympathetically. “The female must have other reasons for resisting Ronan’s charms. I am certain he bedded her just fine.”
“Er. Thank you, Mother Yeta.” My cheeks burned slightly— discussing my sex life with my mothers was very low on my list of pleasurable pastimes. In fact, it did not make the list at all. “But yes, Alora feels she has a duty to her people which calls her to marry Brixta. This marriage is a political one. She must wed the king to fulfill the demands that have been placed on her.”
“Well, then we will simply have to make you king, then.” Mother Mozula stroked the single hair on the tip of her chin thoughtfully. “It is a shame we do not still have any moon assassins in our employ. I suppose you will simply have to kill this Brixta schlucker yourself, little cub.”
I did not bother pointing out that I was taller than two Mother Mozulas stacked on top of each other. Little cub, my backside…but knowing Mother Mozula, there was no point in correcting her.
“He cannot do it alone, though.” Mother Jara clapped her hands together. “We must hasten the rebellion. It is the only way. I will go to Lord Haelian’s hold myself and insist that he prepare his troops. They have been hiding up in these mountains for far too long. It is high time they finally made a move.”
“We must be careful, though,” Mother Yeta warned. “If Ronan’s human marries Brixta before the rebellion succeeds, she will be at risk. There are still faithful Lunarians in the capital, I know. I will reach out to them at once and inform them that this Alora female must be protected at all costs.”
“And I will pray,” Mother Mozula said with a nod. “For this Alora, and for you, Ronan. May the moons bless and protect you—and may you be prepared for the responsibility that kingship will place on your shoulders. If fate insists on this course, then it must be followed.”
“We will all pray that the moons give you strength,” Mother Yeta agreed.
“If you are to be king, then you will need it,” said Mother Jara.
“Many thanks, Mothers.” I stared down at my reflection in the surface of the tea and imagined a crown on my head.
Somehow, it looked more right to me than ever.
If this was truly the only course for me now, I knew I would be able to handle it.
Especially if it meant I could have Alora at my side as my wife when all was said and done.
11
Alora
One night. One night of tenderness. One night of passion and tempered joy and aching wonder.
That was all I got.
“Happy wedding day.” Kali woke me by turning down my blankets with a grim smile painted on her lips. She was already dressed for the occasion in House Brixta black. Her chestnut hair was piled on top of her head in complicated braids, and her makeup was applied perfectly. But it didn’t hide the bags under her eyes from a sleepless night.
“Sure it is,” I grumbled as I rubbed my own eyes. I knew without looking that there were dark crescents beneath mine as well.
I hadn’t spoken to Ronan since we’d slept together. At first, because there hadn’t been a chance to—and then, because it seemed he was no longer in the palace at all. Orion had managed to get word to Kali that Ronan had been sent home for a while. Thankfully, neither Kali nor I had reason to believe it was because King Brixta had realized what Ronan and I had done.
I’d spent two weeks being pampered and primped, fitted and flocked around. Pushed and pulled from place to place without even a single chance to thank Ronan for taking my virginity—or to tell him how much it meant to me that it had been him, not my husband-to-be. Every night, I charmed King Brixta with my clever little jokes and smiles and compliments. Every day, I could see the effects of the progress I was making.
King Brixta didn’t visit his harem members anymore—not now that our wedding was on the horizon. He hadn’t raised a hand to anyone since he’d kicked that little cub on the day I arrived either, as far as I knew.
He was improving. Every time I saw the way he looked at me, I could tell he was coming to love me.
But even if he behaved himself perfectly for our entire lives together, it wouldn’t even come close to comparing to the happiness I’d felt when Ronan was inside me.
Even if my entire marriage was blessed with peace and love from my husband, it wouldn’t come close to meaning as much to me as that single night.
My heart would never turn for King Brixta. He would never make me wet the way Ronan had. He would never make me cry out in ecstasy, make me beg, make me come.
Nothing the king did in the future would ever undo the horrors of the things he had already done.
“Alora! How perfectly terrible you look!” one of the harpies cried out as she burst into my room.
“Absolutely dreadful,” the second harpy agreed, trotting over close behind the first. “And on your wedding day, no less!”
“You should eat something, you poor thing,” the third harpy insisted as she hobbled in with a tray heavily laden with treats from the palace kitchens. “You are horribly thin, Alora. How will we ever fatten you up in time?”
“So skinny—except for your tits, I suppose.” The first harpy pinched my arm and shook her head. “At least the king cannot complain about those honkers.”
Kali and I shared a look, then released simultaneous sighs. We knew the names of my three new handmaidens—Lila, Pala and Naga—but which name belonged to which woman, I had no idea. Instead, we called them the harpies in private, because of the way they flocked around me in an almost predatory fashion, and because of the way they were always squawking and cawing whatever thoughts first came to their minds, no matter how apparent it was that they should have been holding their tongues.
“I’m not hungry just yet, but thank you.” I dismissed them with a polite smile. “Perhaps later.”
“They’re not wrong,” Kali whispered as she took my hand and helped me out of bed. “You haven’t been eating properly since Ronan left. Maybe just a few bites?”
“I would, but my stomach is a mess right now.” I placed my hand over my belly and tried to mentally calm the unpleasant queasiness that had settled in the pit of my gut over the last week. King Brixta had called it wedding nerves, which was probably not far off the mark. The difference was, the king thought I was nervous because I was marrying such a great and powerful man—when in reality, I was probably just in knots over the fact that I was about to sign my whole life away to the wrong man. “I’ll try later. If I eat anything right now, I’m afraid I’ll throw it right back up.”
“Ah…maybe for the best that you do not eat, then.” The harpy holding the tray of food made a face as she whisked her offerings away. “If you vomit, I am not going to be the one to clean it up this time.”
I flushed, embarrassed. It was true that I’d already thrown up a few times since Ronan left. I always apologized and insisted that I would take care of the mess myself, but when we were in the presence of any of the king’s agents, even I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to stoop to the lowly job of a servant. To the harpies’ mutual disgust, they’d been saddled with the task more often than any of us would have liked.
“Do I really look so horrible?” I asked Kali as the harpies descended on the food on the other side of the room. “I know I barely slept last night, but—”
“Well, you are thinner, and you do look tired, but aside from that… Actually, you’re kind of glowing,” Kali admitted. “And if you stay flushed like that, I guess you’re going to be a blushing bride after all.”
“Let’s just hope my wedding top still fits,” I grumbled. “It was so tight on my breasts yesterday, I was afraid I was going to burst right out of it.”
“The king would love you for that,” Kali said with a teasing smirk. “I’ve never known him to be the praying sort, but I imagine he’ll be hoping for exactly that as you walk down the aisle.”
The rest of the day was a whirlwind. With the tightness of my top keeping my breaths short and the scents of the wedding feast wafting through the halls from the kitchens, it was hard to keep my stomach feeling settled. Once upon a time, I would have swooned over the smell of freshly baked breads and pastries washing over me, but lately just about any scent that was too strong left me feeling even more ill instead.
The only scent that I really found myself craving was Ronan’s. If I closed my eyes, I could still remember it—the smell of a cool night after a warm rain. I yearned to be held by him, kissed by him…for the feeling of his four strong, steady arms wrapped around me, holding me up even when the rest of the world felt like it was spinning wildly around me.
But every time I found myself wishing for that, I had to stop myself.
He hadn’t said goodbye before he left. I didn’t even know if he was going to make it back for the wedding.
Really, I had no idea if I would ever even see him again—but if I did, I knew there would be no kisses or four-armed embraces to be had. Not for me.
Not now that I was finally becoming King Brixta’s wife. His queen.
The morning was so hectic, it quickly became a blur. One moment, Kali was draping my veil over my face—the next, I was walking down the aisle to the sound of a piper playing the Lunarian royal wedding march. The sound of the song was harsh and disorienting as it hit my ears.
Now that I’d heard both versions, I had to admit that I much preferred Orion’s gentle, slightly off-key humming. It was hard to say whether that was the fault of the piper, or if it was just the fact that when Orion had hummed the song for me, I’d been walking down t
he aisle towards a different man.
A better one.
“Ah. My bride!” Through my dark veil, I could only see the shape of King Brixta’s massive form at the end of the aisle before me, but the slimy, throaty quality of his voice was recognizable almost anywhere now. “And would you look at the tits on her! Marvelous!”
A wave of quiet snickers and snorts passed over the crowd of wedding guests. With the knowledge that my veil would cover up my expression, I allowed myself to grimace.
I didn’t have to be Lunarian to know it was far from customary for the groom to shout things at his bride while she walked down the aisle. As for the comment about my breasts… again, I was thankful for the veil, but I was afraid that when King Brixta raised it, my face was going to be beet red.
Luckily, I didn’t have to endure the embarrassment of experiencing the rest of the wedding. I could feel my lips mouthing my promises to King Brixta—to love, honor, obey and bear cubs for him—but my mind was elsewhere. Out of the corner of my eyes, I searched the crowd for Ronan’s handsome nose and chiseled jawline. I knew it was crazy—and that it would cause problems for me down the line as well, for that matter—but a part of me was still half-hoping that maybe he’d burst forth to demand that this wedding be stopped at once. I held my breath as my veil was lifted. When King Brixta went in for the close-lipped kiss he was entitled to, I closed my eyes and prayed to hear the doors to the hall kicked down while Ronan rushed in, blasters blazing…
But he didn’t. No one stopped the wedding.
King Brixta clasped a bracelet around my wrist that felt heavy as a shackle, and just like that, it was done.
I was married.
I’d done my duty. My fate was sealed.
The ceremony blended into the feast like blood in water. I was vaguely aware of being guided from one place to another. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had told me that I’d floated my way to the feasting hall. I couldn’t recall my feet even touching the ground. It wasn’t like walking on air, though.