by R. J. Price
“It was such a beautiful ceremony, and those vows? One never expects poetry from a warrior, but that? Who needs anything more than 'I am yours' to know one is loved, truly? Such simple vows and yet so powerful. My dear Telm, did you give them instruction on what they should say to one another?”
“No, that was entirely them.”
“Why didn't she say that she was his?” demanded one frustrated young lady. “I think it's just a ridiculous waste of good blood. Good man, that's what that is, a good man gone to waste on someone who doesn't even realize he exists and all he can do is pine after her like some love-struck fool. Where does that leave us?”
“Aren's mated him,” Mar said. “If you've a problem with that, take it up with him.”
“Why don't I take it up with her instead?” the lady snapped.
“I thought it might save your life if you take it up with Av instead,” Mar said, trying to remain calm. “If you take your complaint to Aren, she may take it to heart, and she may even refuse to tell Av. However, he would get it out of her eventually. At some point she would let slip that one of the ladies said just such a thing and he will sweep through all of the ladies, not just you.
“You might not step forward, but one of your friends would, and she would tell Lord Av just what you said and how you said it. Then he would come see you and by this point his rage would be boiling. We all know what happens when a warrior rages.”
Olea stepped up beside Mar. The queen had her nose in the air when she reached out and swatted the lady in question. Mar turned with a gasp to Telm for help. The head of house's eyebrows were raised as she turned to Olea.
“Is that not the way of it?” Olea asked. “I am standing as queen to prevent any damage coming to my niece and her babe. I am rank, she is commoner. She had a smart mouth, now her mouth knows what happens if it flaps when it should not. Does anyone question what I will do to the next person to be rude at this ceremony and festivity?”
The gathered ladies gave a muttered response, their eyes on the ground.
“Good. Joy and happiness, ladies. The one who sits the throne is mated to an honourable man with good blood. If that's not enough to be joyous over, recall, the cellars have been thrown open and drink will flow freely for all after dinner, and the children toddle off. Except Mar. Drink is not good for the babe, after all.”
“Let's start moving everyone into the palace and the hall,” Telm said to the ladies gathered. “Collect at least one lord each and start the procession.”
“What about the couple?” asked an older lady. “Palace tradition dictates they lead the way into the hall.”
“We will have to stand in,” Telm said. “You and I, we will stand in for them. As much as, yes, palace tradition is very important, I don't believe it would be safe for us to interrupt their Northern tradition. I also do not want to risk anyone's health by remaining outside longer than necessary. Myself, I am older, I know there are ladies here older than me even, so we should move inside.”
“Why does the Northern tradition take precedence over palace tradition?” the same lady asked.
“Because Av wants to honour this tradition,” Telm said.
“And?” asked another lady. “He was raised on palace grounds.”
“He wants to honour his bloodline,” Telm said.
“Oh, for the sake of the spirits,” Olea said loudly. “The man is a warrior. Would you like to stop him from doing as he pleases? Because by all means, go interrupt him. A warrior who kills just before or during his mating ceremony is blessed with many children. So please, go do that. It will be a great lesson to everyone else as to his temper and their futures under his rule.”
The ladies were silent. Then the one whom Telm had selected to stand in with her as the couple, stepped forward.
“What would Lady Aren say to this tradition being altered?” the woman asked.
“I believe she would ask how the couple felt,” Telm said calmly. “She would likely say that a mating ceremony, while it is for those attending, it is also about the couple.”
The woman took in a deep breath and offered Telm her arm. Telm took it and smiled at the woman.
“Come, come,” the woman called as she led Telm off. “Come along, everyone, come along! Into the hall!”
Mar remained still as the crowd began moving around her. Commoners followed after Telm and the woman, their conversation shifting towards the festivities to happen over the course of the night.
She turned and looked behind her. Those who remained rooted in place were all ranks. Ervam strolled forward, the only rank who was moving. He stopped at a few healers who had dared venture from the hall to witness the mating. They left, following after the crowd.
Ervam motioned to the remaining ranks and they came to him, barons and high lords, a few faces that Mar didn't recognize.
“Interference is the name of the game we play tonight,” he said to those gathered. “It is not yet time to try his temper. There will be plenty of time for that, later. The commoners should be taken by whatever mood is flowing through them, and if we pause long enough, we might feel it. Iln, darling, you're usually the first to know.”
“I don't think it's for me to say,” Iln said quietly, a red colouring her cheeks.
“Just tell us a good or bad,” Gamen, her mate, said.
“If anyone interferes, he will spill blood. If anyone touches her, he will break a bone at the very least. It would be best to separate them for a little time, which means a dance. Someone has to be sacrifice.”
“Why are we separating them?” Mar asked.
“To show them that they don't want to be removed from one another right now,” Er said.
“I'll do it,” Url said. “It'll give... it'll settle things.”
“No,” Lerd said. “I'll do it because there's nothing to settle. We don't want bloodshed. We want someone he won't dare take, but not family. Family is safe. It's not separated.”
“I can take him,” Url snarled back.
“Good, because you may have to,” Lerd responded calmly. “Your father filled me in. You walk a very fine line, young warrior. I'll take the lady for a dance. He won't try me.”
“Mar, stay away from Av tonight,” Ervam said, the trainer motioning to her belly. “As much as that is a joy, let's not risk putting that thought in his head until Aren has a chance to get her feet under her. You walk on by and he'll start that thing.”
“What thing?” Mar asked.
Er grinned and chuckled as Olea made a little sound of appreciation.
“Seclusion and sex until the woman is pregnant,” Jer said. “It's rare, actually.”
“Not for a Marilton,” Olea said with a little giggle as she shifted towards her mate. He wrapped a possessive arm around her.
“I don't want to risk it,” Ervam said to the air in front of him. He sighed, then looked at Mar. “You know Aren. As much as she might be taken by the whole act of it, if she ends up pregnant now, when she never intended to mate in the first place, there will be anger and hatred.”
“I...” Mar sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “I know you're right, but I want to be there for them.”
“Be there tomorrow. When you need to start kicking anyone who wanders too close to the queen's rooms, and I mean it. Kick and hit and bite anyone who comes too close, and if they protest, go crying to Perlon. I'll have a chat with him and have him start doing the same. A man has a right to defend his mate no matter whether he holds rank or not.”
“But that's not how I—”
“Either you kick and bite, or Av starts killing people,” Ervam said.
Mar fell silent.
The mate to the throne had all the freedom that the one who sat the throne granted him. Aren might protest Av murdering someone, but then someone would still be dead no matter the outcome. Av had the temper to become violent with someone who interfered. There was no telling how far that temper would go if he were tried at that point.
“Ladies and
gentlemen, we know she has problems, we know her emotions are not where they should be, but when she feels, she feels a great deal. We know his temper, we know his rank, we know his violence and destruction. He's already blooded a man and that means he can slip into it as easily as a commoner can be stupid.”
“Not all commoners are stupid,” Perlon said, stepping up beside Mar.
He offered her his arm and she took it with a smile.
“You know what I mean,” Ervam said. “Aren may have been unstable before, but now she's a man to back her, and as much as the court doesn't see it, they are a very good pair for one another. We must expect changes. Men, if your woman isn't clawing at you shortly, talk to him, coach him. Women, if you aren't clawing at your man, please do everyone—including yourselves—a favour, and find out if it is a block on her end.
“We are here to make them happy, to set them on the path of a good, healthy relationship.”
“She thinks her time with Av is good,” Mar said.
“A woman has fun like a man does,” Olea chimed in.
“Yes, but not every time,” Perlon said.
Every woman present turned to him, then looked at Mar, who felt as if she would melt, there was so much heat flushing through her face.
“Let's practice,” Ervam said. “Perlon, you play Av. Mar, you play Aren. Everyone else, this is your couple and he found his goal, but she did not. Go.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Av lay beside Aren, basking in the afterglow. She was curled around him, sleepy. After so many months of being denied, first by the court, then by Aren, he had what he wanted. No one would be foolish enough to get between him and Aren again.
At least, not until they had children.
“Better?” he asked, because he didn’t even want to consider that possibility right then.
Aren had made herself fairly clear. He was willing to wait, to enjoy being alone with her as much as he could.
“I had no complaints about any other performance,” she grumbled. “Everyone else told me differently. Apparently women are supposed to enjoy it like a man does, as if that makes any sense to me.”
“It's called an orgasm,” Av said, feeling worse for himself.
He had tried something new, had asked the advice of several women, as embarrassing as that had been. She had even… well, he thought she had.
“And they said that, but what is that?”
“It's...” Av struggled.
“Because I like what you do and can think of no better end. Someone suggested I touch myself, but I don't understand how that works.”
Av made a strangled sound at the thought. “You've never tried?”
“When exactly would I have found the time?” she asked.
He repeated silently that he shouldn't take it to heart. Not only did she enjoy their time together, but she was incapable of thinking it could be better. Yet that was no consolation to him because his father had raised him to see to his partner's desires as he would see to his own. If he orgasmed, his partner should as well, otherwise he was a failure as a man.
“I need to talk to my father,” he said, pulling away from Aren.
“Why?” she asked, startled as he left the bed entirely.
He was mated to her: this was not a fling.
Av turned back to Aren, very aware that he was very naked. So was she, which was a fact he was trying desperately to ignore, least he climb back into bed and not let her out for days on end.
“I am having issue with the fact that you are not to the place of enjoyment that I am to,” he said, struggling to make sense of what he wanted to say. “I understand that you enjoy yourself and you have no more demands of me, but that's not all right for me. I was taught that if you don't enjoy it as I do, then there's no point to it.”
“How do you know I don't enjoy it as you do?”
“I meant orgasm.”
“Can all women do that?”
“Frankly, I think they can, and those who can't simply don't have a man that is attentive enough,” he said. “It's not your fault though. You can't even talk about touching yourself without stuttering off into nothing. For crying out loud, it's something that nearly everyone learns to do by instinct. All the young men are doing it.”
“They are not.”
“To the thought of you, no less!” Av shouted. “Now I have to kill them all. They are all touching themselves to the thought of you over them and I can't even make you sound the way they make you sound in their heads!”
Aren frowned at Av. The woman simply stared at him for a very long time.
“I think...” she said slowly. “Av, I think that I don't know much about much, and you knew that. I was a virgin when you claimed me. Would touching myself help you?”
A great deal. Just the thought of it and he was willing to rise to the challenge. Av cleared his throat as Aren looked down. The queen's eyes travelled up slowly and locked with his.
“Why does that excite you?”
“Everything about you excites me,” he responded. “If it weren't for my recent reality problems, I'd be humping everything in sight. You've been so...” He struggled, trying to come up with anything in response. “Everything.”
“But you want me to...” Aren trailed off as her fingers travelled down her side.
He bit his bottom lip as those fingers caressed down her hip. He whimpered when the fingers moved between her legs.
“No!” he shouted louder than he meant to. “I just... I mean... I think we have an obligation to go and enjoy our festivities and if you do that, there is no way we're leaving this room tonight. Or tomorrow. Or for a while.”
“First you want me to touch myself, then you don't want me to touch myself,” Aren muttered, sliding out of bed.
Suddenly he had an angry woman on his hands. Aren snatched up her dress and pulled it on, every line of her screaming her annoyance.
“Aren, I do want that. I want you to touch yourself. I'd love it if I could watch you touch yourself,” he said. “But right now, the court is expecting us and as much as I hate to say it, you sit the throne. We are obligated to make an appearance at the festivities being thrown in our honour.”
“I know,” she said, settling the sleeves of her dress. “You think I don't know? I'm linked to it, I know. I know I'm connected to it until death do us part, as if it's a marriage of some sort. Doesn't matter what I want, doesn't matter what I was going to be, or my plans for myself. My life no longer matters. I only live to serve.”
“Then let's change that,” he said.
“Change it?” she asked. “Change it how?”
He retrieved his pants, thinking of unattractive things as he did. Anything to stay focused on the task at hand and not get sidetracked by lovemaking. Pulling on the pants, he regretted having to dress.
“Once upon a time, the one who sat the throne was a force to be reckoned with,” he said.
“Then times changed, the warrior queen died of grief, and everything went to the midden heap.”
“What's a midden heap?” he asked.
“Where all your trash goes,” she said.
“My father calls it a shitpile, but what's stopping us from doing that?”
“The court?”
“I'll kill them all.”
“The South declaring war.”
“Suppose we'll need the court for that,” he muttered.
“No, I've traded with Van and he will march with us along with the North. Olea has Iln kneeling, which means the East will also be with us. In exchange, our eldest daughter of a queen, should one be born, will go to Van for finishing, and Olea's youngest daughter will mate with Western blood. Meanwhile Iln's sons will stay at the back of the battle while Gamen is at the front. Giving them a reason to fight, but keeping something for her if something goes wrong on the front lines. Er will not go to war at all and if he does, you're to break both his legs, crack his skull, and fetch the nearest healer for both yourself and him because Olea cann
ot promise that she can restrain herself from beating a man who stops her man, even if the first man has permission.
“If we have a warrior, he's to go to the East for finishing because Iln is just being snotty. Van has asked if we could shuffle our children his way because he'd really like to see the East and North combination of your blood mixing with palace blood and then with his Western blood. He's pretty certain he could create one of those unranked ones, and while we might kill said unranked one, he'd raise it good and proper and then unleash it on the world to see what happens for giggles. I agreed to that because I really think we'll all be dead by that point, so it won't even matter.”
Av stared at Aren, not entirely certain he actually understood anything of what she had just said.
“I caught the part about we're all going to die,” he said finally.
“We don't need the court necessarily, but the war is still a problem,” she said.
“Oh, so I can kill the whole court—fantastic news,” he responded, snatching up his shirt.
He pulled it on as Aren approached him. She turned and lifted her hair, and he pulled the lacing tight, wondering why he was bothered by what she was wearing. It wasn't that he was bothered that she was wearing clothing—he was pretty certain anyhow.
Just as a joke, he turned and pretended to lift his hair.
“You can't wear that,” Aren said.
“Why not?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Aren. “Does it make me look fat?”
“No, take it off.”
With a frown, he obeyed and shook out the shirt, looking at the back of it.
It was covered in bloody prints. Fingerprints, a hand print—there was blood all over the back of his shirt. No one had commented on it before because he had worn a vest over the blood. He didn't understand why there was blood on his shirt. On some level he slowly realized where it had come from, thanks to the hand print, which was just where Jer had placed his hand, then gave Av a wink as if they were sharing a secret.
Each of the warriors who had been in his room that morning had left a bloody fingerprint on his shirt. The same shirt that he had worn to mate Aren in. And he hadn't smelled it because he had still been in pain from the night of drinking.