She smiled at him.
Indeed.
Incandescent.
“Can’t we hire ones at the inns where we’ll be staying?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea. I don’t need a servant to unlace me.”
“So you’re traveling without a servant.”
“Of course.”
She started quietly laughing.
He tipped his head. “This is funny?”
She shook her head. “These clothes I have to wear in this land are most odd, but they’re warm. However, they’re not an insurmountable problem without a solution in the putting on and getting out of. If I need it, can’t you lace me?”
“Of course he can’t lace you,” his mother snapped, bringing True’s head around her way. “That’s not only absurd to ask of a prince, it’s indecent.”
True felt Mars’s energy shifting to angry, and Cassius’s shifting to controlling his friend.
But for once, Cassius’s aim was faulty.
“Mother, if you ever again use that tone with Farah, after we’re wed, we’ll move to Firenze and never return.”
His mother paled.
His father’s head came up.
Vanka and Johan went still.
True felt Silence’s eyes shoot to him.
Farah’s hand clutched his tightly.
True remained focused on his mother.
“Am I understood?” he asked.
Her jaw moved as she ground her teeth.
“Am I…understood?” True pressed.
“True,” Farah whispered.
“Mother,” True prompted.
“Son, calm,” his father urged.
“I’ll hear the words spoken,” True said to Mercy.
“Yes,” she said tightly. “You’re understood.”
“Excellent. Now apologize to her,” True demanded.
Vanka emitted a peep.
His mother, the queen, visibly bristled at being told to apologize to an untitled foreigner.
True did not back down for this was not what he asked.
He asked his fucking mother to apologize for being rude to the woman who was going to be his wife.
“True, that’s unnecessary,” Farah whispered.
His mother held his gaze.
“Mother,” True pushed.
“Son,” Wilmer murmured.
The table sat still and silent as a son, who was a prince and a soldier, clashed with his mother, who was the invisible monarch.
“Aunt Mercy, truly, you should apologize.”
True’s head jerked in surprise as he felt Farah’s hand in his spasm after Silence made this demand.
“Now,” Silence decreed. “It’s altogether unseemly you should speak thus to your soon-to-be daughter-in-law and, I mean, it’s horrible to bring up considering the grave loss so recently suffered, but it’s true, should you outlive Uncle Wilmer, Farah’s your future queen. And this discourtesy at the breakfast table no less. So very unlike you. Goodness.”
By the gods.
Silence might be stumbling in finding her way as a wife, but she was certainly finding her footing as a queen.
If he wasn’t so bloody angry, he’d laugh.
“Aunt Mercy,” Silence urged.
“My apologies, my soon-to-be daughter,” Mercy gritted.
“That wasn’t very convincing, but it’ll do,” Silence murmured then looked to Farah. “Yes?”
“Yes, of course. Absolutely. And Queen Mercy, I’ll select a servant,” Farah promised.
“You bloody will not,” True bit. “I’ll do your gods-damned laces if need be. If you don’t wish a servant, you don’t have to have one. You’re going to be bloody queen. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”
Jasmine chuckled.
Farah stared up at him with big eyes and said conciliatorily, “All right, my True.”
“Yes,” he clipped. “Your True.”
With that, he let her hand go, pushed his chair back, got up, pulled hers out and helped her from it.
His eyes went to Silence. “She’ll seek you for your stroll when she’s ready.”
Silence was grinning up at him. “Of course, cousin.”
He noted Mars wasn’t grinning up at him.
Mars was studying his wife like he’d never seen her before.
True looked to his mother. “We’ll part on bad terms if you don’t use the time it takes for the women to have a wander to find words to make amends. I strongly suggest you take that time and find those words, Mother.”
She lifted her chin at him.
It was set stubbornly.
But she’d find a way.
It would be far from genuine, but she’d do it in a manner that was appeasing.
She had a gift with that.
He tucked Farah’s hand in his elbow and moved them from the table.
When they were halfway to their tent, she noted, “I hadn’t actually finished my breakfast.”
He pivoted them instantly and started back until Farah broke free, laughing softly, and stood in front of him with both hands on his chest to stop him.
He stopped.
“I was joking, True,” she told him, studied his face but a moment and said, “Though perhaps it’s not a good time for that.”
“I would have your life filled with laughter and teasing. When I’m angry, it’s the best time, my Farah.” He was sure to note that she noted the word he stressed, which she did, hearteningly, before he went on, “For I dislike being angry, sweetling. And your eyes alive with humor like they are right now could fill a dead man’s heart with gladness.”
Her lips parted.
And he watched them do so.
Gods, he wished to kiss her.
His mouth was dry with the need and this was becoming an affliction, this need was near fucking constant.
And sleeping at her side night after night…
Agony.
But her mother hadn’t been entombed for even a month.
An unseemly time for a woman to be wed, thus he sought to give her more of it to mourn as well as him having some to help her fall in love with her new home.
Not to mention her future husband.
It was regrettably also an unseemly time for a gentleman to advance his affections.
When she woke him last night, and he again had to witness her in her scant, clinging nightgown—in bed, beside him, when he was vulnerable after having one of his dreams—he’d been unable even to move for fear of what he’d move to do if he did.
But he’d managed to find a moment to offer her a chaste kiss.
It was all he could have.
For some time.
And it had been him who had decreed they’d sleep side by side every night.
He wished to make certain she was safe. Her mother had died abed.
But it was killing him.
Fuck.
Instead of kissing her in that moment, he wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her to his side.
She put her arm around his waist.
This was much better.
He pivoted them again and resumed their walk to the tent.
“Will you at least allow a servant to pack your bags?” he requested.
“Yes, True.”
“We’ll take a pack horse so bring what you wish,” he told her.
“I will.”
“We’ll take two horses if they’re needed.”
“All right, True.”
“And we’ll get another, if you see things you wish to purchase on our journey.”
“True?”
He looked down at her. “Yes, my sweet?”
She grinned up at him and put her hand to his stomach. “Stop being so marvelous.”
And all of a sudden, he was no longer angry.
He bent to kiss the top of her fragrant hair, pulled away, and replied, “Never.”
Her eyes grew brilliant as yellow diamonds.
They weren’t exactly happy.
&nb
sp; But they were not unhappy.
He’d take it.
For now.
He led them into their tent.
50
The Formidables
Queen Silence
Fifty Miles Inside the Southern Border
WODELL
One could say—after last night and his continued highhandedness at breakfast—I was not happy with my husband.
However, I was unhappier as he stalked (yes, stalked) me to our tent after breakfast.
It was entirely undignified, but he was so tall, his legs so long, in the end I was practically running to get to the tent before he did.
However, once I arrived, I realized I had not thought matters through for he was stalking me, which meant when I was inside, he was inside right behind me.
And I needed to get away from him.
Or I’d scream.
Unfastening the frog at my neck, I twirled my cloak from my shoulders, tossed it to some cushions in a manner I hoped appeared rather dramatic, and whirled on him remembering every detail of the night before. And in doing so remembering he’d told me if I wanted something, I should tell my husband.
Therefore, I told my husband what I wanted.
Lifting my chin, I declared, “If you wouldn’t mind, my king, I would like a little alone time to rest my eyes prior to taking a wander with Elena and Farah.”
“You ran from me.”
“What?”
“You ran from me.”
My frame jerked as I belatedly caught the look on his face.
No.
The look in his eyes.
They were aflame.
Literally.
Tiny blazes danced in his eyes.
I knew what that meant.
Oh faith.
“I didn’t run,” I told him with more bravado than bravery, also openly lying since I did just that. “I simply made my way back to the tent…quickly.”
“I thought we learned a lesson last night, Silence,” he said quietly.
And I was glad he did.
So very glad.
For if any fear was striking my heart, the reminder of that wiped it away.
“We most assuredly did,” I snapped.
He took two steps toward me which, with the wideness of his gait, placed him right before me.
He then lifted his hand as if to cup my face.
Which made me wrench it away so he would not touch me.
I was about to move bodily from him when he caught me with both hands on my jaw, his movements so swift, from such a large man, it was astonishing.
It was then I was on the verge of pulling away when I felt it.
Not his touch.
The atmosphere of the tent.
It was oppressive.
Not with heat.
With air so heavy, it felt suffocating.
I lifted my eyes to his and all my breath left me at what I saw.
“Suffice it to say,” he started in a sinister whisper, “if I do not wish you to run from me, if I do not wish you to avoid me, I absolutely do not wish you to evade my touch.”
I should fear him. He could break me in two.
And from what I’d witnessed from him, if given reason, he would.
But in that moment, I didn’t fear him.
My eyes might not be afire, but my blood was for who was he to tell me I could not run?
And if his touch was unwanted, who was he to tell me I could not deny it?
“After last night,” I began bitingly, “I never want you to touch me again.”
His brows rose in studied nonchalance. “No?”
“No,” I spat.
“Shall we test this assertion, my Silence?” he asked.
“No,” I denied. “You shall take your hands off me immediately.”
“Mm,” he hummed.
Then he released me.
I didn’t have time to let out the breath I was holding, for in the blink of an eye, I was up, and in but three of Mars’s mighty strides, I was down on the mattress with my husband on top of me.
He could not be believed!
With a great heave, I arched my back to displace him and opened my mouth to shout, only for him to claim it with his own, gliding in his studded tongue.
Of a sudden, I collapsed under him and felt like weeping.
His taste was nectar. His weight was heaven.
I tore my mouth from his, turning my head away.
His hand spanned the side of my face to pull me back, but I said, “If you do this, I’ll never forgive you. If you force yourself on me, my king, there will be no coming back.”
The atmosphere of the room lightened to such an extreme, it felt like the tent around us was falling to the earth.
“Force myself?” he whispered into my ear.
“You threatened it yesterday, and I could not fight you and win. I know that. I could not call out and have others come to my aid, for you are king and you can do as you wish. I know that too. But I would be lost to you in a way that could never be regained.”
“I did not threaten you with this, mia piccolina.”
I closed my eyes tight at the endearment and retorted, “You did.”
“I said I would not do that.”
I opened my eyes and told the side of the bed, “I would not think such a thing would even enter your mind to do. But obviously, since you mentioned it, it did.”
“Silence,” he called.
I stared at the silk of the side of the tent.
“Look at me, my queen,” he whispered.
It was then I realized his hand still spanned the side of my face, but now his thumb was coasting along the apple of my cheek comfortingly.
I turned my head to glare into his eyes.
He continued whispering when he vowed, “I would never, not ever do that to you, amore. It is not the basest man who engages in such behavior. It is a monster. You never have to fear that from me, Silence. Not…fucking…ever.”
I took in a shuddering breath and stared into eyes that were no longer ablaze.
They were liquid black.
“You are wanton,” he shared.
No longer relieved and pacified by his vow, I blinked in affront and snapped, “I am not.”
A small smile pulled at his mouth as he replied, “I have but to kiss you and you catch fire.”
This was, lamentably, true.
I decided not to comment.
“I had meant to prove that point after your earlier declaration,” he explained. “Sadly, it did not work. But thankfully, it led to you actually speaking to me and sharing with me what is weighing on your mind so I could do something about it.”
“I am most gladdened we’ve worked that out,” I said in a way it could not be misconstrued I was not, which did not anger my husband.
He looked vastly amused.
I ignored this.
“Now, if you’d get off me, I could rest my eyes for a spell before I bid farewell to my two friends.”
“I will not roll off for we have other things to work out.”
I aimed my eyes upward and mumbled, “Marvelous.”
“Silence,” he called, his deep voice trembling with laughter.
Laughter!
I aimed my eyes to glare at him again.
His hand at my cheek (still!) shifted so he could stroke the skin under my glaring eye (which felt so nice, it was difficult to keep glaring, but I managed it) as he asked, “Why were you running from me this time?”
“I was not running from you.”
His thumb stopped stroking and he explained, “A husband and wife leave a breakfast table together with both their destinations the same, they stroll there…together. Not with the wife scurrying before her husband like a mouse scampering to elude a cat.”
“I didn’t scurry,” I told him.
“You scurried,” he replied through a brazen smile.
I had scurried.
How humiliating.
“It heart
ens me greatly you find this so amusing, my king.”
At my tone, his smile died.
“Silence—”
“You wish me to talk. Fine. I do not like this discord between you and my father.”
His face started to grow hard. “Silence—”
“But you will do as you please, I have no control, no say in anything, for example such matters as where we journey from here when everyone is scattering in all directions.”
“I did ask if you approved of our plans,” he reminded me.
“After sparring with my father and essentially determining said plans,” I returned.
“If you do not wish to return to the Arbor, we will not go.”
I did wish to return to the Arbor.
I also wished to see his saffron fields.
But the Arbor was closer than the fields and all this riding around on horses and sleeping in tents, although not fatiguing, and in the beginning most interesting, had lost its appeal and was no longer enjoyable. Further, I might not have any friends there, but Tril did and she’d be happy for a spell at home.
“I have no issue with returning to the Arbor,” I shared.
“Then I do not understand your pique.”
He wouldn’t.
“Silence, you must explain it to me so I understand it,” he instructed with apparently strained patience.
“It is not about the Arbor.”
“Then share what it is about.”
“I’d rather not.”
“In manners such as this, my new wife, your tactics of speaking only when spoken to and keeping to yourself that which you’d rather not be heard do not work. And I’ll hasten to add, it will never work in matters with your husband. Even if there’s discord, we must have it so we can get past it.”
“What you did last night was unconscionable,” I blurted.
His head gave a jerk.
Since it had come out, I had to finish it.
“You used me…you used…used…” I drew in a ragged breath. “You used my response to you, my feelings for you, to…to punish me.”
“Amore,” he whispered, his tone quiet but heavy with remorse, and it must be noted, his eyes were drowning in it.
“You used me against myself to teach me some lesson I could not possibly understand for I have no experience being a wife, I have no experience being a queen, and I’m doing the best I can in rather trying circumstances.”
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