by Viola Rivard
Philomen sneered at her. “Do not patronize me. I am the king of Atolia.”
“Such arrogance,” Eloisa said, relishing each syllable. “You are a single man. Now, are you going to send for your seal, or shall my husband and I take our leave?”
Eloisa laid with her body stretched across Caleth's, both because she craved his nearness and because she needed to cool off. She drifted between sleep and wakefulness while Caleth's hands made a lazy perusal of her damp body.
“You did well in there.”
It was the first time he'd spoken to her since they'd departed from the Atolian palace. When he'd joined her in the palanquin, Eloisa had thought for certain that he'd want to discuss everything that had happened between she and Philomen, but his mouth had been on hers before the door was fully shut behind them.
Though it mortified her to think that the fliers knew what they were doing, Eloisa hadn't been able to resist him. She never could. Sometimes it felt as if he were inside of her mind, and each time she thought to resist him, he knew it and would immediately do something that made her resolve melt away. Today, it had taken only a properly executed flex of his hips to turn her protests into a moan.
“You didn't understand half of what I said,” she told him, her fingers curling around a lock of his hair.
Caleth liked it when she played with his hair, and when she dug her fingers in to massage his scalp. For such a severe man, he was remarkably tactile in bed. And, apparently, on the floor of a palanquin.
“You got the king to sign a deal that guarantees he will lose his kingdom.”
“It does not. If Philomen uses the money justly, then...”
She trailed off as Caleth's chest rumbled with laughter.
“You will be queen within a year, Eloisaja.”
When she looked up at him, she saw that he was frowning.
“That doesn't please you?”
He ran a hand over the side of his face. “I am...resavdrut.”
“Resavdrut?” she repeated, not recognizing the word.
Caleth held up two fingers. “It is a state of mind. It means I cannot decide how I feel. If you become queen, we get Atolia. However, that will mean you will have obligations outside of my bed.”
Eloisa covered her face as she laughed. “How can you compare the two things?”
After a moment, she peeked out at him through her fingers. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For...” she paused to consider her phrasing. “For allowing me to speak for myself.”
Caleth smirked. “I could not have spoken for you.”
“You know what I mean.”
His fingers moved to her back, where they began to trace her scars. It was something he did often, frequently enough that Eloisa almost didn't find it uncomfortable. Since learning to communicate with him, she had never asked what he thought about her back, and she wasn't sure she ever would. Questions like that would always be taboo in their relationship, unless Eloisa grew strong enough to handle knowing the truth.
“You will be a great queen,” he told her.
“I don't know anything about ruling,” Eloisa protested.
“I will teach you.”
She rolled her eyes. “If I go by your teachings, I'll end up ruling the entire southern continent.”
Caleth cocked a brow. “That idea has merit.”
“I wasn't serious!”
As he pulled her up for a kiss, Caleth rolled onto his side, pinning her beneath him. She could feel him hardening against her, and lifted her leg up to invite him back inside. With a groan, he sheathed himself inside of her, and then paused to rest his forehead against hers. Their breath mingled in the space between their faces, warm and cold air swirling together.
“I love you,” she said.
Eloisa spoke in Atolian, as there was no Cal'derache equivalent. Just as the Cal'derache preferred to learn by doing, affection was something that was meant to be shown and felt, not spoken with words.
Her husband's response was a quizzical look. He waited only a second for her to explain, and then resumed kissing her.
Eloisa didn't need to hear him say the words. Caleth had shown her nothing but love from the first night they'd met, standing beneath the heavens in his observatory. She still didn't know what she had done to deserve him, but she'd stopped questioning it. Instead, she said a prayer each morning, thanking Phaeda and whichever gods were listening for the miracle that she'd been given.
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