He didn’t? Doesn’t?
“Vacha?”
“Hmm?” My gaze sought his.
Without glancing around, the male leaned in, nose dipping to brush mine, and he closed his eyes. “It’s good to have you back.”
Lifting my hand, I brushed my fingers through his scraggly bearded chin, to his cheek. He nuzzled the spot and I smiled slightly. This was all very weird to me, but I was enjoying myself. Lifting myself up, I startled the male by placing a chaste kiss onto the middle of his snout, between the spot his lip and skin of his lower nostrils met, bumping the ring there. “Good to be back, Ferdinand.”
˜˙˜*˜˙˜
Fresh shawl over my shoulders, a length of material wrapped around my waist, I sat at a long, ornate table, thick chairs, hand-carved designs accentuated with gold on a black backdrop.
Trying not to grimace, I stared down at my plate, wondering if it would be impolite to ask for something that didn’t look like less-than-cooked buttholes. Meh-kosh, if I was pronouncing it right, was a delicacy, a rare dish. It came from some type of grass eating semi aquatic animal that was tricky to catch, let alone repeat its name. Vachel had proudly proclaimed she and Cephonie, whoever that was, had trapped them and skinned the things themselves.
They sounded like giant mole rats with too many eyes to me, if the way the younger Tauran was explaining it was as I’d imagined.
The dish was served with a side of pink mash. What the mash was made of, why it smelled that way, of sweaty bloomers and yeast, and what part of the Tauran mole rat it currently sat beside, I’d no clue. One bite of meh-kosh and I knew I couldn’t stomach it.
“How’s the meh-kosh and yarmishe, Riadne?” Vachel asked excitedly. She was on her third small helping while I was desperately trying not to stare at my plate for too long.
Smiling politely, wishing for fresh caught boiled crustaceans, roasted, seasoned meat, and buttery corn on the cob like back at Festival in my younger years, when things were more plentiful on Durmad, I cleared my throat, debating just how to answer.
Suzaela glanced up from her dish, her menial helping of partially cooked buttholes mostly untouched. “She is savoring it, vacha,” her mother replied tactfully, saving me the trouble. The heaping helping of yarmishe drowned in gravy she’d piled onto her plate was nowhere to be found. Did the high priestess not eat meat? Or, like me, cringe at the taste of spicy, tangy sweet meh-kosh.
“Looks like something Yhem expelled from many orifices,” the male to my left admitted, poking at his food with a delicate looking, two pronged, black, metallic fork with intricate designs traveling up the neck of the stem. “Many,” he felt the need to repeat, ignoring his sister’s indignant huff at his less than reserved observation. Setting his fork aside, lifting his bowl, he gave the goopy clumps with a side of pink mash a sniff. “Smells like it might’ve come from it, too.”
Gobsmacked, stunned stupid seeing this side of him, like a little boy pouting at the table, a small giggle of a laugh escaped me. Smothering the action with my hand, it was already too late. I’d been caught.
Setting down his bowl, the dark-furred bull covered his mouth with his hand as if to swipe something away, but not before I caught that flash of a small and muffled chuckle lifting his lips.
“What was that?” Vachel asked, looking to me hopefully.
“Oh, it’s unique,” I forced out with a strained smile.
“Quite unique,” Adelric muttered, earning a gentle poking from me. Hand reaching for his thigh under the table, I jabbed it, effectively getting my point across.
Jumping, he let out a manly squeak like someone had just goosed him, capturing my hand to press the offending appendage against his thigh. I froze, ignoring everyone’s startled looks at the male’s outburst, feigning indifference. Our hands held, his heavy warmth clasped over mine, holding me to him.
We stayed like that as the meal progressed. This seemed to be no issue for him, as he favored his left hand to pick at his food.
“Perhaps I did not let it cook for long enough,” Vachel admitted, “but it is still edible.”
The thick thumb set over my palm began slowly, absently, brushing across my hand in gentle sweeps that had my heart fluttering wildly, mouth suddenly gone dry. Snatching my cup up with my right hand, I took long, distracting drags from my mug, anything that might prove a distraction. The water was cool, crisp, wetting my parched throat. Before I knew it I’d almost downed all of it.
“You did good, vacha,” Adelric told his sister, lifting the heavy looking goblet beside his plate with his free hand in a toast. “Your first catch. I am very proud.
“As am I,” Suzaela seconded, lifting hers in salute.
“Thank you! Fine praise.” Vachel’s goblet lifted, leaving me with my mug of mostly gone water while she beamed like the suns had just shone down on her.
That insane bellowing set off from far off and I hunched, gaze darting around wildly, about to panic. Recalling the source of the commotion, I relaxed marginally, though my spine remained stiff.
Suzaela took a tiny sip from her cup to set it down. Her sigh was long, distraught. Catching her mother’s upset, Vachel reached over to clasp Suzaela’s hand with hers.
“Why doesn’t he just come in?” I asked finally. “Is the temple door locked?” Did they bar the house of their All-father from others?
“The house of the All-father is never locked. It is welcome to all who believe in him,” Suzaela admitted sadly.
“But he doesn’t believe,” I said slowly, glancing to Adelric, who nodded.
What did he believe in then? Recalling our conversations in the early days of our courtship, I found it hard to believe he didn’t believe in the All-father. Had he, at some point since his return, lost faith? And if so, why?
For a moment I contemplated the idea that he might have lost his way after what had transpired between us, as I’d already begun, despite the hurt that still burned deep inside me about all that had happened, that, like Adelric had attempted to persuade me at one point in his sibling’s favor, Kvigor was many things, but cruel wasn’t one of them. The whipping willows, he’d clearly known next to nothing about my intended ‘taming’ until Vachel had told him, and he’d seemed genuine in his insistence he’d had my best interests in mind, at least in his mind, in trying to hand me off to his eldest sibling.
My mind looped back to the promise he’d extracted from me before we’d entered the village, his odd moods and behavior, his attempt to take us to somewhere other than the village but ultimately deciding against it. He’d told me once, it was impossible to break a deal, and if one tried bad things happened. I’d heard much of the same with dealings with magical beings, though that had seemed like fanciful thoughts back then. Ah, how much has changed on such short notice.
“Perhaps he will find his way again,” I said as if to soothe. He’d definitely believed in the All-father at some point. Why would he fear reneging on a deal with him, if he didn’t?
“Perhaps,” he responded tightly, as if the idea was simply something to say as opposed to ever happening.
Suzaela’s expression tightened and she appeared to close herself off. “It is late, and I am tired,” she admitted, standing. “We have had a long, trying, ah, few days. I bid you thanks for sharing evening meal with us, Riadne. Know that you are always welcome to table in the house of our lord.”
“Oh, ah, thank you.” I gave a short nod, feeling a little guilty for not trying to persuade her of the All-father’s true identity. If she needed to believe him a god worthy of worship, what was it to me if it wasn’t harming anyone? The truth would only hurt her in the end. Knowing this, I kept mum.
Been doing that a lot lately, Riadne, my conscience said approvingly.
When Suzaela had taken her leave, Vachel following not long after, I glanced to my lone dining companion. “Why does Kvigor want in here so badly?”
Adelric leaned back in his high-backed chair, the charred looking style wood creaking w
ith his weight. “Do not tell me you don’t know.”
“Of course not. Been in a co-mah, sleeping thing, missed a lot. Why else would I ask?” My gaze unerringly drifted towards the hall, where it seemed to be echoing from.
“Why, indeed,” the male intoned gravely, earning himself a confused frown from me when his hand slipped free from mine. Excusing himself, he stood and hurriedly left.
Was everyone going to suddenly act like their butt was on fire and rush away from the table now? Gods, did I have horns suddenly sprouting from my head?!
“Fine. I’ll just poke at my roasted butthole and yar-mush all by myself.” Spotting a basket of petite looking cracker biscuits, more than likely for sopping up sauce, I grabbed the entire thing, glaring at my dish malevolently. “I’m taking all of these,” I admitted. “Just you try and stop me.”
The butthole stew and mash didn’t say a word.
Basket hooked under my arm, trying to ignore the pained sounding bellows of my once bonded, I went in search of an escape.
Spotting the dark pool with sparkling looking skylight above, the effect as wondrous as I’d imagined, maybe more, I turned, detouring, and headed that way.
Basket of biscuits under the stars, what more could a recently awakened woman ask for?
More bellowing, reminding me of the noises he made whilst trapped in the cavern dungeon.
What more could I ask for? Silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Should’ve brought my mug with me,” I admitted, popping another chewy morsel into my mouth as the silent but deadly male came up alongside me. A snort left my lips. I wasn’t about to get into what Kvigor liked to refer to as silent but deadly. Another childish snort. Damn and blast, I missed being ridiculous with him.
A wide-mouthed bottle was plopped down between us, the dark-furred bull man nudging me, jerking his chin towards his offering.
“A trade,” I told him with false cheer. Handing him a few biscuits from the basket, I confiscated what looked to be some kind of berry wine.
“Has a kick,” he warned, but I’d already brought the bottle to my lips and began tipping it back.
As the sweet mixed with the bitter in an interesting blend, I swallowed my mouth full, gasping as it burned all the way down. Coughing, eyes watering, I shook my head. “A kick? That tasted like bitter, candied... flames!”
“Warms the bones,” he replied succinctly.
“Dragon piss,” I muttered petulantly, swiping at my eyes. My remark earned me a bark of laughter from the beast and he grinned. “Warms the bones... that,” my finger pointed as he took it back, “that- that’ll put hair on your arse and melt it right off the top of your head.”
Another laugh, the sound rich, deep. His eyes sought out the top of my head, then the general direction of my backside. One stern look from me and he smirked, hands shooting out, the bottle clutched in one. “You amuse me,” my woolly companion admitted.
“Don’t worry,” I snorted as I shook my head, “I amuse myself sometimes, too.”
“I find at times, I wish to figure you out.” He looked embarrassed to put that out there, just blurting it as he’d done, but he didn’t try and take the words back.
“Can barely figure myself out most days,” reaching up to scratch at my scalp, I shrugged, “no idea how you’re going to.”
Lapsing into silence, I stared off over the water while he popped a chewy cracker biscuit into his mouth.
“It’s strange,” I spared him a quick glance, “being back.” So very strange. I hardly knew what to do with myself. “I take it from the conversation earlier Peacock has decided to try his hand at matchmaking.”
“Peacock. Pfft. That... male,” his hand shook as he lifted it, gesturing over his shoulder, a half-eaten biscuit in hand, “is not Ekodar. Not the one I’ve known.”
“Claims he’s been touched by the All-father,” I reminded, gauging his reaction. “They, he and the All-father, are supposed to be doing a great many things for his people.”
“His people? Hah! Touched in the head, he is.” Adelric’s face pulled down into a blackened scowl. “There is nothing holy, spiritually divine, or otherwise to that blaggard’s actions. The All-father never would’ve acted like that.”
He wouldn’t have, not necessarily, unless there was some ulterior motive, but how would he know that?
“No.” The unimpressed Tauran shook his head. “Claiming Vachel as his own get, to turn around and toss her off to some- some...”
“Blacksmith?”
“A bahdajri.”
“A what now? I thought he was a bull of woolly, like you all. Are there other, ah, beings of Tavros with, ah... different lookings? Erm, other creature-human likeness? Less woolly bully and more... something else?”
“There are different beings within Tavros, many. Not many reside within Feagmunt’s boundaries.” Adelric made an exasperated noise. “Bahdajri is someone not of our own, not of my people.”
“Then I must be a super bahdajri,” I said thoughtfully, my gaze slipping to my toes to watch them wiggle in the water. Such a stark contrast to the cloven hooves dangling over the edge next to me.
Realizing his mistake, the Tauran blew a long stream of steam through his nose. “I did not mean-”
“Oh,” I murmured, holding a hand up, “Ferdie, we both know exactly what you meant. Let us not think on it too much. A numbing buzz has started up in my head and I’d rather allow myself to fall into it for the moment, if you don’t mind. Bit of a headache since I awoke.”
“Probably shouldn’t have offered the baidle berry wine. You’ve barely just come back to the land of the living. Too soon.”
“Not soon enough,” I quipped with a smirk.
More silence.
“What happened? You know, after,” I gestured around us, “with you, Vachel, Puck the Emperor Chief King, me, this place, the blacksmith. How did we all end up here?”
“It is safe. No harm will come to you in the arms of the Father.”
Due to magicks and wards, spells, whatever the great warrior king was capable of. “Because Ekodar doesn’t believe,” I concluded, following along with his logic. Or so the bully man assumed. No Pucks allowed.
A nod from Adelric.
“So... you never did answer my question. What happened to your warrior person’s uniform? Why’d you drop kilt for a silky soft scarf dress?” A huge grin tipped my lips and I waggled my eyebrows, knowing it would embarrass him. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”
“A k’h se is hardly a scarf dress,” the surly male replied tartly. As he snorted, the ring through his nose popped up to fall.
“Did you give it up because of the blacksmith thing with Vachel? Was this your way of letting Ekodar know you wouldn’t be playing his games anymore?” If so, bravo!
Adelric glanced towards the hall Vachel had disappeared down after the meal had dispersed. “No.” He sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’d decided to leave before then.”
“Why?”
Amber and gold bursting eyes glanced to the water, where they too took great fascination in the water dance my toes had started up, his sitting there above the waterline, just dangling limply. No wiggling toes for him. “It matters not,” he said finally.
“Of course it doesn’t,” I muttered, grabbing up his wine to take another swig. My cheeks instantly pinkened and I wheezed, hacking. “Ick. Ack.” My face pinched sourly and I shook my head, gasping, gagging. “Nope. No. Still dragon piss.”
A small chuckle from the male watching me through the corner of his eye. “Humans are odd creatures.”
“You ain’t so bad yourself, sweetling,” I tossed back with a wink.
Turning towards me, amber and bronze eyes blazing with gold met plain green. Searching his face, a thousand words on the tip of my tongue, so many questions bubbling to the surface, I finally dropped my head, lifting my shawl to point to one of my pierced nipples. “If this is a praise be to your god, he
has a sick sense of humor.”
“Or,” he said as his gaze followed, “he is a smart male with pleasant things in mind.”
Rolling my eyes, I scoffed. “Yes, I can imagine just how pleasurable this would have been, had I been awake.”
A thick hand boldly cupped over mine, his finger tentatively, gently, reaching out to brush over the spot. The bar tugged, just enough, his thick digit rubbing the spot until I was squirming in place. I shivered while he tweaked and teased, my lips sealing shut to hold in any sounds I’d have otherwise been tempted to make.
“These? There’s a salve the temple maidens are taught to make. You wouldn’t have felt a thing.” His eyes burned burnished gold, staring at the rounded bud, hardening before our eyes at his attentions. “At first.”
This was so achingly familiar to the scene by the ocean it gave me pause. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Hmm?”
“The male Beron spoke of, the one he saved who refused to accept him, and with it his gifts.”
Everything in Adelric stilled. Slowly, he tore his gaze away from my aching breast, shock and no small amount of apprehension in those fiery, gold-bled eyes.
Eyeing him evenly, I waited, though I was sure I had my answer. Though I wondered, “What was Ber- ah, the All-father expecting of you in exchange for his gifts? You know, except for the acceptance part.”
Adelric blinked. He looked like he wanted to pretend he’d no clue, but eventually grumbled, “Undying loyalty.”
“That’s it?” My face pinched into a deep scowl. Really? “Nothing else?”
“He wished me to go to temple, give myself over to his cause, and he promised to aid me in his, our, journey. I’d have been a sentry, one of his men. To lead.” Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he grunted, shifting awkwardly, his movements jerky. “It was to be a journey, as the voice called it, of epic proportions.” Sounded like something Oberon would wax on about.
“A voice?” He made it sound as if he thought it all a hallucination. Maybe he did.
By the Horns Page 34