by CS Hale
But what if you picked a person to fulfill the role of husband or wife? The role didn’t change, even if that person or your feelings did. And frequently love did come when a marriage was arranged. One only had to look at how devoted Edward I of England had been to his wife Eleanor. He’d had no affairs, taken no mistresses, during their marriage. And he’d been so devastated when she died that he had stone monuments erected at the places her body had rested overnight at on its journey to London for burial, twelve crosses in all. He’d continued their personal traditions and attended memorial services for her even after he married again to ensure the succession.
Love was possible where there was respect. And Valemar did respect me.
When the meal was nearly finished, I took Valemar’s hand and stood. Other couples were already drifting away. We didn’t speak as we walked back to my room, but once the door closed, Valemar leaned a trembling hand against it.
“Are you sure?” he asked between ragged breaths. His eyes blinked, and he struggled for focus. “I won’t be able to stop.”
“I know.”
He stared at me clearly through the moon lust for just a moment then pulled me to him, bringing his mouth down on mine. His kisses were urgent, though his hands shook. He held me, breathed me in, pressed me against him. When I kissed him back, he took my dress in his hands and began to lift it over me, our mouths still connected. He drew the dress and my shift over my head in one smooth motion then pulled off his tunic. Then his mouth was against mine again, and he carried me to the bed.
His leggings were shucked off as he crawled onto the bed to join me. I shivered as his bare skin came against mine. His hands came to my face and he stared at me for a moment before losing himself again to the urge.
Even in the throes of moon lust, Valemar was a skilled lover. Something that made it easier to turn off the thinking part of my brain, the part that kept screaming that I was only property to be used. My body responded as before, and this time I didn’t shy away when he looked down at me after, stroking the hair out of my face.
His dilated eyes slowly contracted. Then he placed his arm under me and turned onto his back, pulling me onto his chest. It was then that I noticed the tattoo of green leaves that circled his chest and shoulders like a permanent livery collar. I may have seen a flash of green on our wedding night, but I’d tried so hard not to look, to not make the experience any more real than I’d had to, that I had missed the striking set of linked leaves. The hand that reached up to run through my hair had a similar tattoo, a hand’s width from the wrist.
“Why did you change your mind?” Valemar’s voice rumbled in his chest and echoed in the ear I had pressed to it.
“You’re my husband.”
Valemar tucked the strand of hair lying across my cheek behind my ear. “I thought you wanted a marriage built on love.”
“Love doesn’t always last. But it needs to start somewhere. We might grow to love each other. But we can’t if I don’t try.”
Valemar didn’t answer. He just continued to run his fingers through my hair in long slow strokes, which was an answer in itself.
“What are these?” I asked, running my fingers along the tattoo on his chest.
“Barat leaves. Padrid told you about Gladama?” I nodded. “They’re a symbol of protection given to warriors.” He held up an arm. “So that our hands are quick and sure.” His fingers touched the leaves on his chest. “So that the trees shelter us and our hearts, even in battle. They protect us as we protect them. It’s the leaf in our crowns and your wedding belt.”
“I just thought those were symbols of Bánalfar’s woodlands.”
Valemar chuckled, shaking me as his chest moved. “That is true, too.” His arms came around me and he buried his lips in my hair. “Does this mean that I am welcome here, or do you still need more time?”
My brain wanted to scream, More time! But my heart …
Valemar had offered me his protection from our very first meeting, and here, in his arms, I did feel safe. I trembled as I let go of the fear and held onto trust. Even so, I had trouble giving voice to the words.
“You are welcome,” I said, and another little piece of Astrid Carr slipped away.
I awoke the next morning, still in Valemar’s arms, my cheek stuck to his chest. “Good morning.” His voice rumbled against my ear. His hand ruffled my hair. Gently. Softly. Slowly. I was still the deer.
“Morning,” I said. But then a wave of pain surged up from my heart. My limbs began to shake. The box of emotions I’d been shoving things into ever since the Palmas Cove had entered the system heaved inside my heart. With a twist, the horror broke free. It pounded against my breastbone as it rushed out, and I gasped, trying to call it back.
Valemar raised my chin, held it until my eyes met his. I blinked, trying to see through the brine collecting on my lashes, and forced my chattering teeth to speak, to explain.
“There was an accident. I —”
But I clamped down, refusing to part with the rest of the information. Telling him I wasn’t supposed to be here, telling him I’d called for help but no one came, telling him I was no princess but a peasant, would only harm me. It was the Moon Princess that Valemar held so tenderly, not me. So I hid, burrowing into his embrace as I tried to shove the lid back on.
Valemar sighed and continued to stroke my hair, offering the comfort he knew I’d accept. But the comfort made the pain more real. Each sweep of his hand brushed away a little bit of the wall I’d built up around myself.
“I thought I’d already mourned,” I murmured into his chest.
“Grief is strange,” Valemar said. “It hits you even when you think you’ve dealt with it and things are fine.” He fell silent for a moment then swallowed heavily. “Sometimes when I’m doing my jaldun, I hear my father’s voice … remember his instructions, his touch shaping my movements. I remember, and I wish that he were still king and not me.”
Both my parents lived. I had a brother and sister-in-law. And a niece and nephew. I had family. But they no longer had me.
“How long has your father been gone?” I asked. How long will they mourn me?
“Ten years,” Valemar whispered.
“How?”
My head moved as he shrugged. “A wasting disease.”
I could feel his pain then, roiling away beneath the surface, the intimacy of the marriage bed allowing me to see this man’s suffering. And he mine. Even when I hadn’t known that I still mourned.
I kissed him then. Not because I wanted him to wash my pain away. I kissed him so I could wash away his. Valemar kissed me back and rolled us over.
At some point, I was going to have to tell him the truth. And I wanted it to be his wife he was looking at when I did. Not an imposter.
“What would you like to do this morning?” Daria asked as she laced me into the dress for today. I’d chosen one in a sky-blue color. My insides were still raw. I ached for everything about my previous life, but I wanted the sadness inside me to turn the color of a summer day.
“I’m open to suggestion,” I said. Crawling back under the covers for a good cry wasn’t going to happen.
“Well, we could always go sew with the ladies.” Daria giggled.
“Sew! I can’t sew.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Daria’s face appeared over my shoulder in the mirror. “You can’t?”
“Not a skill I needed,” I said.
“Hmm.” Daria’s eyes darted back and forth as she thought. She raised them to me. “Do you want to learn?”
I gave her a gentle smile. “Not today.”
Daria tied off the laces and straightened the run. “I doubt she’ll be there today.”
“She?”
Her eyes sparkled with merriment. “Zhanet. I doubt she’ll be there today. She won’t want it rubbed in her face by the others.”
“No, I’m sure she wouldn’t,” I murmured.
While I was glad to have rem
oved that potential problem from my future, it rankled that everyone knew what I did. And what I didn’t do.
Daria began tidying up. “She should have known he’d never marry her.”
“Oh?”
“People don’t usually marry their moon mates.”
“Don’t they?”
“Well, it’s just sex. Anyone would do.”
“I see.” I held back a giggle. “So you weren’t choosy last night?” Daria blushed furiously. “And does this ‘anyone’ have a name?”
“Yes,” she said. “But he’s part of the castle guard.”
“Ah. No chance of marriage then.”
Daria folded my dressing gown over her arm. “Do you … on the moon?” she asked. “Do you marry your partners?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Sometimes it’s just sex, but usually it’s a trial run. You spend time together with someone you’re interested in. Enjoy each other. See how you work together in all things before marriage.” Daria nodded.
I thought about her first question, what I wanted to do. In the fourteen days I’d been here, I’d only been outside the High twice. Both times to the Cair. “Something outside?” I suggested. “Shall we do something outside?”
“We should visit the shops on the high street,” Daria said. Her eyes began to glow. “The queen should be seen supporting the local merchants.”
“But I don’t have any coin.”
Daria waved her hand dismissively. “You’re the queen. You don’t need any coin. If the merchants wish to be reimbursed for anything you select, they’ll send a bill to Andol, Aedenfal’s treasurer.”
I’d certainly purchased things with other people’s money before, but there was at least some type of transaction that occurred. This was going to be an odd shopping trip indeed.
There was nothing that I actually needed. I had clothing, jewels, and cosmetics. My food was provided for me. I was curious, though, as to the kinds of goods to be found in the shops of Aedenfal. Daria took me to a clothing shop first.
“Ah! My queen!” The proprietor was the shortest Alfari male I’d yet seen, only a few inches taller than me. He bowed deep then looked up at me. “What can I show you today?” He straightened and tapped his fingers excitedly. “I have a Fairfada grazed anapali in a new color.” The man darted to the left where bolts of fabric sat stacked on white-painted shelves. He pulled down a purplely-red bolt, unwound it once, and held it out to me. “They’re calling it Cordair Blush.”
It did look about the color of Raislos’s face when I’d laughed at him. I took the cloth between my fingers. “This isn’t silk?” I asked, surprised at the softness.
“Silk?” A furrow appeared between the proprietor’s eyes.
“A fiber insects create.”
“Ah! You want the gresánve.” He snapped his fingers and darted off to the other side of the shop.
“I thought most of my gowns were silk,” I said to Daria. “I can tell some of them are wool.”
Daria picked up a bolt and handed me the tail end of the cloth. “This is anapali grazed on Bánalfar grass.” The fabric felt like cashmere. “Your dress, most of your dresses, are anapali grazed on Fairfada, the grassland to the east.” She set the bolt down again. “With such a difference in the quality of the wool, you see the importance of the grazing rights. And the animals.”
The proprietor bounced back with a bolt of sheer white fabric in his hands. “The finest gresánve. Just in. Perfect for some new nightdresses for you, my queen!” His cupped hand traced the air in front of me, illustrating how they’d cling.
Up close, there was a silver opalescence to the fabric and a slight stickiness that reminded me of spider web. I could well imagine what any nightdresses would look like on. “What gives the fabric its color?”
The man’s eyes bulged in their sockets. “Well, the gresán itself,” he said with surprise.
“So there’s crushed gresán coating the fibers?”
“That’s how we get the shine on many fabrics,” Daria said.
The iridescent robes that Valemar had worn at our first meeting had glittered like some kind of beetle. Now I knew there probably was beetle in it.
Which wasn’t that strange. The look, the feel of fabrics was what mattered throughout the galaxy. The protocol specialist in me kicked in. Perfect opportunity to do some research.
“I think I’ll just look around a while,” I said and inclined my head. I hoped he’d take the hint I was dismissing him.
His smile wavered before it was yanked up again. “Of course. Of course. Just let me know if you need any assistance.”
“I really don’t need anything,” I said to Daria as the proprietor reluctantly slunk back behind the cutting counter. Daria picked up the end of the gresánve and draped it over the back of her hand. It clung to every curve just as I’d imagined it would.
“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve nothing of this in your wardrobe.” She gave me a saucy smile and waggled her eyebrows. “Might come in handy.”
“Uh huh. And what is a gresán?”
“It’s an insect that lives in the upper canopy of trees. Makes its home with these fibers.”
“And what does it eat?” I asked
“Small creatures.”
I bit my lips. Of course it did. “Let me think about it,” I said. “Why don’t we take the opportunity of being here and you can give me an education on the fabrics and the dyes used to color them.”
We walked around the shop. Daria pulled down bolts of fabric, had me run them between my fingers. I could soon tell the difference between the ones made from the four most common wools and the three most common plant fibers. Some dyes, she knew, came from plants. Still others were secrets closely guarded by the weaver.
When I thought I’d gotten a good grasp on the textiles and the proprietor had nearly fainted from holding back both his enthusiasm at having the queen in his shop and his dismay at my not having purchased anything (all the while Orin was keeping any other customers at bay), I picked up the bolt of gresánve and brought it to the cutting table.
“I’ll take one nightdress in this,” I said, and drew up my work persona to keep from blushing at his licentious appraisal of me.
The tape measure trembled in his hands. “Of course!” He all but squealed, delight lighting his eyes.
Daria whipped the tape measure out of his hands. “I’ll measure her. Just tell me what you need.”
The smile slipped down his face and never quite returned. He pulled a sheet of paper from the stack and gave Daria the first measurement he’d need. I raised my arms to the sides and stood still as Daria pinned down the end of it on my shoulder with one finger and marked a spot on my wrist with the other. She moved the tape measure to my collar bone and ran it down to the top of my bust, then under. Moved it from the top of my bust to my waist. Circled my hips.
It was not a nightgown I planned on wearing any time soon, but I wanted to have it tucked away. An elegant, sexy weapon waiting in my wardrobe. The time might come when I’d want Valemar to think with his lust.
It did make me think that I should get him a gift, something I could present him with when we were alone. Something that wasn’t my body. Something that would communicate my thankfulness for his taking me into his life. He’d married me for his own agenda, but then I’d had one of my own as well. All business transactions were that way — the meeting of two people’s self-interests for mutual benefit. The best understood how to sweeten the pot. And I’d worked for some of the best. I needed a gift that was personal, that showed I was paying attention to the man.
Daria handed the tape back to the proprietor and the two of them began to haggle over embellishments. I kept my mouth shut. Daria knew my tastes by now.
The gift also needed to reflect me. Do you have oceans on the moon? Our star gazers can’t see through the clouds.
And then I had the answer. A gift that reflected both me — Astrid — and the Moon Princess.
The propri
etor was just putting his pencil back behind his ear when my attention finally returned to my surroundings.
“And I’ll take the entire bolt of fabric,” I said. “Whatever you don’t use, send up to the High with the dress.”
“We’ll just measure it up now,” Daria said in a sweet tone that belied the steel underneath.
A flicker of annoyance crossed the man’s face, and I knew I was right to have purchased the bolt. Moon Princess nightgowns were sure to become all the rage, commanding just about any price. My buying the bolt meant my dress would be the only one. At least, until he managed to secure another length of the cloth.
The bolt was unfolded, measured, and folded up again. I put on my best regal smile, thanked the man, and made my way outside where I erupted into giggles, startling Orin.
“I’m so glad you thought of that, my queen,” Daria said. The bell on the door jingled as she closed it behind her.
“Yes, well I realized whatever I had made would soon be copied. And something like that, not seen in public, copied exactly —” I shivered. Images of Zhanet draped in the fabric came to mind. “Any chance of intercepting the next bolt of fabric, too?”
“I’ll put out some feelers,” Daria said. “Where to now?”
“I was thinking of getting Valemar a gift. A public gift,” I clarified, since the nightgown could be considered one. “A telescope, perhaps?”
Daria hummed. Her eyebrows inched together as she thought. “Who would make such a thing?” she asked.
I frowned. “I’m not sure. It would have metal.” But I couldn’t see a blacksmith making something like that. “And glass.” Maybe a jeweler?
“We could try the glass shop the next street over,” Daria said.
The windows of the shop were filled with colorful vases, an array of wine glasses and water goblets in various styles and shapes, and, what were to me, fantastical creatures. Whether real or imaginary, I couldn’t tell, not being familiar enough with Teridun’s fauna to know the difference.