“There is not much I can say, for I do not entirely know how ours will be.”
That was utterly unhelpful.
Her scowl must have made her opinion plain for he had tapped at her cheek while giving her an apologetic smile.
“There is very little protocol,” he admitted. “There must simply be a gathering. At which time, we will state what has transpired.”
That sounded even worse, and she wondered how many details they would be expected to share. She was going to ask precisely that, her indignation mounting at the entire situation when she caught sight of the look in his eyes as he leaned closer to her.
She swallowed, her arguments dying as quickly as they formed, and her mouth suddenly felt dry.
She had expected to feel sore, for her tender places to remind her of all they had done the previous day, but there was only the lightest awareness—and certainly not enough discomfort to rebuff him.
Not when he looked at her in such a way...
“I do not believe I have greeted you properly this morning,” he murmured lowly.
She bit her lip, a little uncertain, and terribly confused at how a simple rumble of words and look from her husband could make her feel so very much.
It simply was not fair.
It was only later, once they were both washed and mostly dressed that she remembered to be nervous. She could not seem to keep still, her fingers fumbling with ties that should have been simple, the braids Alindra had done proving far too complicated in her agitated state.
She settled for a single plait, sorry that she could not appear more like an Onidae for the occasion, but perhaps that was a fruitless desire in any case.
“You look lovely, wife,” Olivar complimented, rising from his place on the bed, his boots now properly fastened. He reached around her, drawing her toward him, his head perched atop hers. She had chosen one of her dresses. It was not quite as elaborate as some of the ones she had seen the other women wear, the fabric not as sheer, and it had only the smallest hint of embroidery around the neck.
But that was proper, she decided. She was no great lady—especially since ladies apparently were boats amongst the Onidae—and she wasn’t a mistress. But a wife should likely wear a dress to an announcement and not the tunic and leggings she favoured for what little work she had managed to accomplish while living with Olivar.
For as much as Olivar seemed to like her hair down, his fingers finding it whenever it was so, she liked it back and out of the way as she had always worn it.
Especially when his lips found her neck and kissed lightly. Hair would have proven far too great a hindrance for such things.
“I am nervous,” she admitted, wanting to turn to face him but also not wanting to move.
Olivar sighed, and she felt his cheek resting against her. “I wish you would not be.”
She did not know what to say to that. She could not simply stopper her feelings because he wished it—because she wished it—but there was also no point in apologising. So instead she shrugged a little, the movement rather stunted by his arms tucked about her.
“Where are we going?” she asked at last, hoping this time he would tell her. To her surprise, he did.
“I thought we would start at the harnel,” he confirmed at last. “And if we are fortunate, it will be full and allow us to make our declaration. Then you will have your crempet.” He leaned forward so he could look at her. “See? Does that sound so terrible?”
She huffed. “And if it is not full?”
It was Olivar’s turn to shrug. She tried to remember if he had made the gesture when first she had come here. She did not think so, and something in her warmed to think he was beginning to mimic something of her. “The docks, perhaps? Larger ships come in on occasion, and there are often gatherings to unload the wares.”
Neither option sounded dreadful, but the entire process still made her anxious. She tried to stifle it, reminding herself that this was meant to be a joyful occasion, but she was still afraid that someone would object to the union, could somehow turn it into something ugly.
It wasn’t. She knew that. But that did not fully quiet her apprehension.
“Come along,” he urged her, pressing one last kiss to her cheek. “I can see that remaining here is only going to agitate you further.” The ease in his voice seemed rather forced, and as he took her hand to exit the room, she did not immediately follow. He turned, giving her a look in question.
“I am only nervous,” she assured him. “I do not regret anything.”
A tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, and his smile was much more genuine. “I am glad of it. It is only...” he glanced up at her, apologetically. “I will admit that I never imagined taking a reluctant wife to our announcement.”
She had not considered that, that her reticence might be hurtful to him, and for that she was very sorry.
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms about him and holding tightly, if only briefly. “Then I am very sorry,” she told him truthfully.
He had likely imagined one of his own kind, well versed in their ways, happily running out to exclaim of their freshly consummated bonds. And instead he had to coax his anxious wife out of their home, where her words would be timid when faced with sharing them with a crowd.
She did not like to imagine that, and she frowned to picture it.
That would be a thrall, thrust before her masters and required to speak.
Not a wife giving claim to the man she loved.
She released him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I am ready now,” she informed him, this time turning so she might lead him out instead.
She would not have him question her enthusiasm. She would not have others question if she was ready to be a wife to him, a fearful creature that felt the need to hide behind a protector.
It was at the harnel that she had said no to a man for the first time in her life. And perhaps some of that courage could help her now.
Despite the way they had departed, Olivar’s long stride soon had him walking slightly ahead of her, but when she tugged at his hand, he remembered to slow to accommodate her much shorter steps. “Apologies,” he murmured, a green tint to his ears. “I am excited.”
She smiled, glad that it was so. She would not damper this for him, an event he likely had longed for, so she pushed away the last of her nervousness, even if a little still clutched at her stomach.
She recognised the way from her time with Alindra, and she was surprised when they stopped at her home. She would have thought Olivar’s eagerness would have seen them directly there, but she was not upset.
Perhaps he wanted his family there to bear witness. The thought was a comforting one, even to her, that there would be some that cared for her, not merely strangers.
Olivar’s fist met the doorframe with a loud bang, and even she startled to hear it. He glanced at her sheepishly, and hit it again, this time with slightly less force.
He kept at it, a frown coming to his face, and she could see him trying to work out where she might be. She did not want him disappointed, and she was ready to offer to search, when they were met with the sound of hurried footsteps, the door flinging open.
She did not expect to see a dishevelled Bendan, his mouth already open in exasperation, though he closed it quickly upon seeing the both of them.
His eyes drifted over them both, and she wondered at what he saw because, to her dismay, he seemed all the more angered.
“Oy!” he cried, his fingers working at the laces of his tunic even as he glared at his brother. “Oh no. Tell me you did not,” he fumed, a finger abandoning its work so he could jab at Olivar’s chest. “Linnie finally agreed and we were to go make our announcement and you had to go...”
He glanced down at Ness, his eyes softening a little even though he managed to maintain his outrage. “You were meant to be resting!”
She shrank, though she reminded herself firmly that Bendan’s manner was often in jest, though this
time it appeared most genuine.
Olivar appeared remarkably unaffected by the display, and she comforted herself with that. “I did,” she answered him meekly. “And then he... and we...” She blushed, hoping she could be more articulate for the actual announcement, but he had flustered her and...
“Do not make me regret agreeing, Bendan,” Alindra called sharply, her own attire much more similar to her usual state of dress as she appeared beside him. Ness looked at her anxiously, hoping that her own, perhaps hasty joining with Olivar hadn’t truly spoiled things for her friend, but Alindra brushed passed her new husband easily enough, pulling Ness into a warm embrace.
“I am very happy for you, Ness,” she declared almost pointedly, before leaning down, her voice softening considerably. “You could not have chosen a better husband.”
Ness did not know why it meant so much to her to have Alindra’s approval, yet she found herself pushing away a lump in her throat. “I am sure you have chosen well also,” she managed to get out, though she wondered if there was a better response she should have given.
She liked Bendan. Very much so. But she could easily see that he was far better suited to a level-headed woman like Alindra who did not always require gentleness.
Alindra released her after another moment, retreating to stand by Bendan. “Yes, well, I suppose he can be rather persuasive when he wishes to be.”
Bendan turned to her, evidently ready to bluster at her in turn, but at her reproving look, he thought better of it. “They could have waited,” he grumbled.
“Just as I could have made you do,” Alindra reminded him neatly. “And the only reason I accepted was because you had finally been proving that you could care about someone weaker than yourself. Are you saying I was foolish?”
Bendan glanced toward Ness, and that was the only confirmation she needed to realise Alindra was talking about her. She didn’t know why that quality was important—perhaps if a father was near children? That concept was still an odd one—and she was a little uncertain how she felt about being used to set such an example.
Bendan took a deep breath, more a sigh mixed with a huff than anything cleansing. He approached her, and she eyed him warily, and that seemed to banish the last of his protestations, for he was much more contrite as he held out his arms, evidently intent on embracing her as well.
It felt a little strange, being wrapped in a man’s arms that weren’t Olivar’s, but it eased as he began speaking to her. “I am pleased to call you sister,” he said sincerely. “Forgive my reaction,” he continued, his voice dropping so none could hear but her. “I have waited ever so long for Linnie and...” he sighed, shaking his head, pulling back. “It is good,” he pronounced. “For you to be with him. Though I am not certain how he could have convinced you so quickly.” This he added with a grumble, and she would have thought him serious except she caught the affection in his eyes. Toward her or just for his brother, she wasn’t exactly certain.
“Perhaps...” she began, trying to decide if she was brave enough to actually tease him. She swallowed. Today, she would be. She could speak aloud to strangers and new kin alike, and that was how it should be. “Perhaps he saw what methods you employed and decided to do the opposite.”
Bendan stared at her, his eyes wide. And for a moment she feared she had gone much too far, apologies already on her tongue as fear trickled through her.
But then he barked out a laugh, pulling her back into a hug, this time born of mirth and undeniable affection.
For her.
“Maybe so, little sister,” he allowed. “Though I should like to think he acquired a great many good qualities from me as well.”
Olivar gave him a dry look. “Doubtful. For example, I have embraced my new sister only once, while you have done so twice and still you are holding onto my wife.”
Bendan made a great show of rolling his eyes and releasing Ness, even going so far as to take her hand and deposit it into Olivar’s. “Satisfied?” he asked sardonically, to which Olivar brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing lightly.
“Very.”
She bit her lip, her heart beating a little more quickly at the way Olivar was looking at her, and she was grateful for the distraction when Alindra smacked Bendan soundly on the arm. “You are a troublemaker,” she chastised, but there was no denying the warmth she held for him all the same.
“You wound me, Linnie,” Bendan admonished, wrapping his arms about Alindra and bringing her close. They suited each other, Ness decided, Alindra fitting against his frame quite well. She felt a moment’s worry that she looked comical beside her own husband, but quickly dismissed it. It didn’t matter how they appeared to others, for they had already chosen each other. And there would be no going back.
“Somehow I doubt that,” Alindra answered wryly, but she pressed back against him, even if she managed to maintain her scowl. Ness doubted she would have been able to if Olivar was holding her like that.
“You may always choose a different gathering,” Olivar reminded him, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “We will be going to the harnel for ours, and I had come to ask if you would join us, but...”
“We will be there,” Alindra cut in, jabbing Bendan with her elbow when he opened his mouth to give comment. Ness didn’t know why she stopped him without first seeing what he would say, but the other woman knew him far better and likely knew it would be something in jest. And he did not appear injured by Alindra’s treatment, despite his sulky looks in her direction.
Alindra soothed him with a kiss, staring at him pointedly. “You be gracious, Bendan,” she insisted. “They had no way of knowing.”
He grumbled still. “Could have told me he was planning to ask, first,” he complained, and Alindra arched her brow.
“Could you not have done the same?”
“I am the elder!” he protested. “Only right I wed first!”
“A matter purely of circumstance,” Olivar cut in at last. “As you are not currently displaying a maturity befitting your supposed rights as firstborn.”
Ness glanced up at him, trying to determine if he was genuinely offended, as his words could be perceived as stern ones, but he had looped his arm about her waist and there was a smile playing at his lips, so she decided that meant that all was as it should be.
She eased against him, their banter oddly soothing in its way, and she was rewarded with a kiss to the top of her head.
Bendan made a retort, but Ness’s attention was drawn by a few passing people. She was used to the way the Onidae often looked at them, friendly in their manner even if their stares lingered just a little. But now there were whispers, their stares blatant as they passed, and their steps hurried when it became clear she had seen them.
It made her nervous to be watched so, but she tried to dismiss the feeling. Olivar had assured her that today would be met with warmth rather than chastisement, and she would choose to believe him.
Even when the people’s behaviour suggested otherwise.
“We are going now,” Olivar said abruptly—or perhaps it only seemed that way since she had been lost to her own worries. “I hope you will agree with your wife and join us.”
Bendan rolled his eyes, brushing past them both. “Of course I will be there for my brother’s announcement. Do not be an idiot.”
Olivar smirked as Alindra tried to right more of Bendan’s clothing as they walked, until finally he took one of her hands and kissed it, halting her efforts. “Not like they will not know what we have been about,” he reminded her.
Alindra glared at him, even though a hint of fondness remained. “Do not be crude,” she admonished, though she went willingly when he pulled her close and laid his arm across her shoulders.
“Olivar,” Ness began, the other couple moving ahead as their longer legs made for a greater pace. “I would like to... that is...” she bit her lip, still uncertain of the ceremony involved and therefore uncertain of how the wording should be.
“Yes?
” Olivar prompted.
She sighed, peeking up at him. “I don’t want to... to say it in the Naradian tongue. Whatever it is I’m supposed to say, that is. This is a part of your custom and I do not want them to be a part of it.”
Olivar stopped, turning toward her. “I do not mind it,” he assured her, watching her carefully. “When I hear it, when I use it, I am reminded of you, not them.”
She was glad of that, for she was not making great progress in learning the Onidae’s words so he would be hearing a great deal more of it in future. “But...” she insisted, trying to make him understand. “But these are your people.” He gave her a look, as if she had stated the most obvious thing possible, and she flushed. “I want them to accept me,” she finished lamely.
“Ness,” he soothed, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Did Rol or Archel hesitate to look after you when you joined the trading party?”
She shook her head, still feeling guilty that her presence had been an inconvenience to them, even if they had given her no true reason for concern. “No.”
“Nor should anyone else,” he told her firmly. “And if they do, they are in the wrong. Not you, not me. All right?”
She nodded, knowing he was right, yet she still felt a bit uneasy. His fingers found her jaw, and his head tilted to the side as he silently assessed her. “Etem achem caran,” he said at last, the words warm upon his tongue. He leaned down, his lips near her ear. “He is my chosen love.”
She wanted to kiss him, wanted to urge him back to their home so she could whisper it again and again as they loved. But this needed to be finished, needed to be done properly, and she would not have Bendan upset for nothing.
She repeated it, the words strange in her mouth as she looked to him for confirmation, only to find something heat in his eyes as she said it back, and then his lips were on hers, pressing and heady. “Etu achem cara,” he murmured back, and though she could tell it wasn’t quite the same, she found she could well understand.
Thrall (Deridia Book 3) Page 36