“It’s Allgoday.” He tossed another twig on the embers. “Isn’t it what people do on Allgoday?”
She straightened, regaining some of her Ladylike bearing. “I don’t.”
“Only because you’re usually surrounded by potential suitors.”
“What?”
“You only take lovers from the lower classes, remember.” He snapped another twig in half. “To prevent them from getting any foolish ideas about marriage.”
Her hand shook as she straightened a feather in her hair. “Is that how you see yourself? From a lower class?”
“I used to be the son of a lord, but I’ve been plain old Quintin of Jardin for a long time now.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Besides, it’s obvious you think of me the same way. From the first time we touched you’ve treated me like a lover, which means I was never marriage material.”
“You’ve always been a man apart, Quintin, beyond the simple labels of lover or suitor.” She cupped his cheek. “I didn’t make love to you because I was grateful, and I’m not looking for a temporary diversion tonight.”
“Then why did you offer me your body?”
“Because I thought it was all I had to offer you.” She kept her gaze steady though her voice wobbled. “Because my heart leaps at the very sight of you, because my body yearns to touch yours. I wake up weeping for you and what might have been. I thought at least we could have this moment together. It won’t be enough, it would never be enough, but I’m not as strong as you, able to resist the lure of today because of the price to be paid tomorrow. I love you, Quintin, and I want to be with you whenever and however I can.”
She loved him?
“Oh, Em.” He reached for her and pulled her tight against his chest.
She kissed him, passionately, desperately.
She loved him, and it changed nothing. His heart ripped in two. Would his pain and regret tomorrow truly be worse if they made love?
She broke the kiss to gaze into his eyes. “I love you, Quintin. Say you’ll marry me.”
He slowly shook his head. “I can’t do that to you, Em.”
She pushed away from him. “Marriage is not some disease you inflict on me.”
“You’ve spent the last six years haggling with fishmongers and bartering away luxuries. All I can offer you is a lifetime of the same. You deserve better.”
“Do I? And exactly what is it I deserve?”
“You deserve delicacies dusted in cacao and saris covered in jewels. You deserve servants to cook and clean and care for you. You deserve okapis and palanquins, or at least a home of your own, none of which I can promise you.”
She tilted her head, her eyes flat. “And what about love?”
“What?” His heart pounded. He could tell she was furious, though he didn’t know why.
“Do I deserve love? Or respect? Or understanding? Am I unworthy of such things?”
“Yes, you deserve love,” Quintin said with quiet conviction. “I have no doubt you will easily find a man who both loves you and has the title and wealth you deserve. You shouldn’t settle for a landless taxman. All I can offer you is love, and it isn’t enough.”
“You’re right, I don’t think love is enough for me.” she said.
He nodded, glad she understood.
“Though I don’t need to wed to have all you say I deserve. My father gives me cacao and servants and saris dripping with jewels, like this one.” She stood and twirled, her red sari gleaming in the firelight. “What do you think, Quintin? Do you like my sari?”
He frowned. Was this some kind of trick? “Do you want my honest opinion?”
She softened her stance and lost her brittle edge. “Yes, Quintin. I always want your honesty.”
He studied her for a moment. The firelight and the red sari brought out the unusual color in her dark hair. It reminded him of how she had looked sitting atop her okapi after defeating the bogbear, a moment that personified beauty and strength. Yet, if she wanted him to be honest . . . “I don’t like it.”
“Why ever not? It is jeweled, is it not? And the fabric was quite expensive. What else matters?”
“It is very fine, and you are enchanting in it, of course. But it’s the wrong color. You are a Lady of Air. You should be wearing white or lavender, not red, even if it is Allgoday. Or maybe especially on Allgoday. Fermena is ascending tomorrow, and as a patron of one of her temples, it is only fitting for you to acknowledge her.”
She folded her hands together and stared at him with serious eyes. “And that simple statement holds all the reasons why I love you, Quintin.”
His brow knitted. “Because I think you should wear white?”
“Because my title, my patronage matters to you, more than they have to anyone I’ve ever met who wasn’t directly tied to Aerynet.” One side of her mouth curled up in a smile. “It doesn’t hurt when you call me enchanting in such a casual way as if it is almost too obvious to be noticed.”
“You are enchanting. Always.”
“Because you love me.”
“Well, yes.”
“But more than that, you respect me. You honored and valued me when you thought I was nothing more than a common thief. My father gives me fine saris. He doesn’t give me respect.” She ran a hand over the glittering edge of her pallu, her face pensive. “I’m leaving here tomorrow, turning my back on servants and okapis and all those other things you say I deserve, because I would rather have my pride and self-respect.”
She stepped closer and pressed her palm against his bare chest. “We can argue until the moons set about whether I could ever find a man I love half as much as I love you, Quintin.”
His heart pounded as if trying to leap through his skin into her hands. Did she really love him so much?
“It is remotely possible there is someone else in this world who can fill me with fire the way you do.” She lifted her hand to wave at the decadent festivities in the garden. “You’ll never convince me a man of titles and wealth will honor and respect me as you do.”
Quintin glanced at the distant revelers. She could be down there with them, her appalling family, where he told her she belonged. Instead she was here with him.
Because some things mattered more than wealth.
“I deserve to be honored and respected, Quintin. I deserve to be loved and cherished.” She again took the end of her sari in her hand and held it out to him. “I deserve you.”
Epilogue
Half of a season later, during Fermena’s assent in the first cycle of the Troika of Peace
Raucous cheers greeted the bridal couple exiting Aerynet. Em’s cheeks ached from the size of her grin. Shouting her praises to the Goddess, she released a pair of lovebirds with her new husband. The colorful birds filled the sky, matching the creatures stitched into the sari she wore, a pattern echoed by the embroidery Quintin had added to his father’s himation.
Quintin raised their hands to his lips and kissed the marriage braid tying them together. Fragments of his thoughts teased the edge of her mind.
She dispersed her air defenses with a sigh and thought loudly, clearly. I love you, my husband.
And I you, my wife.
The appellation sounded both sweet and strange. She relished a lifetime of getting used to hearing it.
They clattered down the temple steps and were soon engulfed by a crowd of well-wishers.
A mystic of Ferel pressed his thumb against their foreheads in an air blessing. “What a beautiful wedding ceremony. Much more intimate and moving than the grand affairs at the Marana temple.”
Em had insisted, with Quintin’s full support, that they make their initial vows on Fermenasday, rather than the more traditional Maranasday. Though Lucy had been anxious about asking Patricia to perform such a seldom call
ed upon ceremony, the mystic had recited the prayers flawlessly. Surely Fermena herself smiled on their union. “Thank you for coming and giving us your blessing.”
“It is an honor to serve the Novenary.” Nine mystics had come to the wedding to represent not only the nine deities but also as emissaries for the Novenary and her goodwill. The mystic bent low in a respectful bow. “I’ll send her a full report, later this week. For now I must beg your pardon. I have other duties to attend to and cannot come to your wedding feast.”
As if on cue, the Merdale guards in attendance blew their horns and cleared the way for a procession to Jardin.
Soon Hannah’s tiny garden overflowed with guests from all walks of life, from humble neighbors to Lord Harold and his cronies. Fortunately, the wine flowed freely, and no one was standing on ceremony.
Quintin and Em circulated among the guests, accepting blessings and well-wishes from one and all. They paused where Quintin’s year-mates clustered together.
Ophelia clasped Em’s free hand, while Ulric and Terin thumped Quintin’s back.
“You will come to the temple to receive the blessing of the Magus on Maranasday, won’t you?” Ophelia asked.
Em smiled at the woman who had fast become a friend. “Yes, we’re planning a full wedding week.”
“Good.” Ophelia threw her arms around the wedding couple. “I’m so happy for you both.” Her voice choked with tears.
As she stepped away, Terin bent over Em’s hand. “You are a vision. Quintin is the luckiest of men.”
Ulric loomed beside his friend. “Lady or not, you treat him right, you hear?”
“Ulric—”
“I will,” Em promised quickly. Her husband deserved no less, and his friends had reason enough to be suspicious of her.
Speaking of which, one of them was missing. As much as Em dreaded encounters with the guard who had arrested her, she would hate for any of Quintin’s friends to miss their wedding. “Is Madi here?”
“Madi’s busy making a new friend.” Terin jerked his head at the other side of the garden.
Em stiffened to see Curtis standing a little closer than was proper to the striking guard. “Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?” Ophelia asked. “Is he the sensitive type? Likely to be hurt by her flirting?”
“Quite the opposite. The man she’s with is a lecherous cad.”
Ulric grunted. “Sounds like the kind of arse Madi likes best.”
“Don’t worry about Madi.” Quintin squeezed their joined hands. “She’s in no danger of a broken heart.”
Em couldn’t help flinching as Madi laughed and leaned toward Curtis. The woman looked smitten. “Are you sure . . .?”
“I’m sure I want more wine.” Ulric clapped a hand on Terin’s shoulder. “Brave the nobles with me?”
Quintin smiled at his friends as they moved away. “Thank you all for coming.”
“It is a pleasure to serve.” Ophelia gave a proper bow, though her serene smile held a hint of mischief. “Though you might think differently when you find the gift Terin insisted on.”
It was traditional for the guests of the wedding feast to hide their gifts around the newlyweds’ domicile, though Em hadn’t spotted any yet.
Quintin groaned. “I don’t want to guess, do I?”
“You’ll know it when you see it,” Ophelia promised. “Now I’d better get some refreshments before Ulric devours them all.”
Quintin tugged Em away from the gathering. “Come on. For once no one is looking at us.”
“I’m sure someone else will want to talk to us soon enough,” Em protested, as Quintin led her around the corner of the house.
“We can always tell them we’re searching for gifts.”
“What are we actually doing?”
“Taking a rest from all the people.” Quintin leaned against the wall.
She played with his queue. “I hoped you had a more specific purpose in mind.”
“Oh?” His fingers tightened convulsively on hers. “Like what?”
Em stroked the shoulder left bare by his himation. “It’s been months since I’ve seen your gorgeous body, and now it is on display for everyone.”
He fussed with his clothes in an ineffectual attempt to cover his chest. “Sorry. Mother insisted.”
“I’m only teasing. It was a fine concession to my family as well, since I refused to wear what they wanted.” Instead of the lavish, wildly inappropriate red sari, Em had fashioned her sari out of the length of cloth Quintin had given her when they first met.
She leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “We should get back to our guests before I give in to temptation.”
“I need a little longer.” Quintin pushed away from the house to drift closer to the door of the room they would share at Jardin. “We haven’t found any gifts yet.”
Em glanced back at the garden as her husband pulled her along. “We shouldn’t abandon our guests.”
“Em! I found a wedding present.”
She spun around to see him peering in the window. “What is it?”
“Come see.” He urged her to the window. “I assume it’s from your family.”
She peeked into their room and groaned. An enormous bed crowded the space, leaving all the other furnishings stacked against one wall. “How inappropriate! What was my father thinking?”
“I like it.” His brow furrowed. “Unless it’s your old bed from Merdale. That would be insulting.”
“It would be most indecorous to have a family bed in a maiden’s room. No, I’ve never seen it before. Gregory and Isabel inherited my parents’ family bed so it’s probably new.”
“Which means your father had to have it custom made or imported.” He slipped an arm around her waist, his thumb tracing an embroidered bird. “It took planning and effort. Getting it in here as a surprise must have been challenging. This is a very thoughtful gift.”
“Thoughtful? It’s ridiculous.” She waved a hand at the window. “We won’t have room to turn around in there.”
“I’ll admit it isn’t the best use of space. Yet I’m gratified your father eagerly anticipates grandchildren from us and wants them to have the best.”
She smiled at Quintin and touched his cheek. She had not completely forgiven her father for his neglect, though his support of their marriage plans had softened her heart. The traditional gift of a family bed did demonstrate his acceptance. “I’m glad, too.”
“I very much look forward to filling our bed with children.” His eyes darkened as he turned her in his arms to face him. “I’ve always dreamed of spreading your glorious hair across a pillow, and where better to do it than a proper bed?”
She moaned and pressed against him. “I agree we should put my family’s gift to good use as soon as possible.”
The corner of his mouth curled up in a wicked smile. “But not yet. You’ll have to wait a few hours more to have your way with me.”
“It is pure torture waiting.” She slid her palm down his bare chest.
He chuckled and captured her hand before it could stray into dangerous territory. “Tonight, my love, tonight. And for all the nights to come.”
THANK YOU for reading TAXING COURTSHIP, Book One of The Hands of Destin. I hope you enjoyed Em’s and Quintin’s story.
The series continues with Book Two, DEADLY COURTSHIP:
Can a minstrel with a knack for predicting the future help a warrior face her painful past?
In a world rife with elemental magic, Han-Triguard Madi’s earth gift strengthens her body, but makes her distrustful of fluid emotions. When her former lover Jasper, a water gifted empath, begs her to protect his brother’s orphans, Madi struggles with unwelcome tenderness even as she tracks down a murderous Lord.
Then the Lord unmasks her shameful past, forcing her to risk her career—and her heart—to avenge a ghost and save the love she and Jas once shared.
Please enjoy returning to Trimble with this excerpt from DEADLY COURTSHIP:
A thick cloud passed over the full face of Terlune, the largest of the three moons, blocking its reddish light.
Han-Triguard Magdalena, Hand of Destin and Protector of Trimble, cursed.
The torch she held in her left hand barely illuminated the brick road under her soft leather boots, while the elegant two-story houses lining the avenue were entirely shrouded in darkness. She had been relying on the light of the moon to aid her patrol of the wealthy district neighboring the Reeve's sprawling villa at the peak of the city Trimble.
Ordinarily Madi wouldn't mind a little darkness, but the day of the week honoring the Earthen God Taric was always stressful. The two men in Madi's usual triad spent Taricday in prayer. As did all the other male guards. With the women in the guard spread thin, the city was ripe for mischief.
To make matters worse, her captain had assigned her normal Taricday partner elsewhere, leaving Madi solely responsible for ferreting out danger in every dark alley she passed.
A large furry head nudged her hip, reminding her that a Hand was never truly alone. She buried her fingers in her waccat's gray and black striped coat, grateful for the great cat's company. Verona's senses were sharper than her own, and the waccat's strength and speed gave her an advantage against any miscreants they might encounter.
Having the waccat at her side improved Madi in every way. In truth, her captain wouldn't have sent her to patrol alone if she weren't a Hand, blessed and honored by her bond to the cat.
Madi gave Verona's pointed ears one last stroke before gripping the hilt of her sheathed bronze sword and resuming her patrol. It was not such a bad night really, with two of the three moons spilling pearly light over the peaked roofs of the villas. They hadn't run into any trouble, at least not of any seriousness. She hadn't hauled anyone to the stocks all evening, hadn't seen anything suspicious.
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