The Last Unicirim’s Bride

by Hollie Hutchins

  There were so many faces, all of them solemn and reserved as they were seated at the huge dining table in Bastion’s council mansion. The table itself was draped in a white cloth with gold embroidery. Artfully carved candelabras dotted themselves along the vast table, and the room itself had an old, rustic glamor to it, from the curving archways above, the stained glass windows that distorted the light coming in, and the ornamental shelves with their various sculptures, and the walls with their old fashioned portraits.

  All the royals sat on one side, and Maya sat directly next to Renne. She couldn’t help but feel people were looking at her, even though they had plenty of other options to stare at.

  “You look… ravishing,” Renne said, smiling at her as she self-consciously felt the nape of her neck where her hair no longer rested, having been strewn into a bun. She felt a trickle of his admiration flick through their connection and wondered if he felt her unease in being here.

  “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

  “He should look good. I helped dress him,” Tara said from Maya’s other side. She was next to Janus. Callum sat by Renne. “He always complains about wearing the suits even though he looks good in them.”

  “Only because you’re trying to squeeze the life out of me when you fit me in them,” Renne snapped back at his sister. Tara nudged Maya and grinned. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful that Maya could only stare and feel slight envy pooling in her guts.

  She’d never be able to look like that, with that light blonde hair, the perfectly rounded cheeks and the thick lips, and blue eyes like oceans or whatever stupid description they gave for blue eyes. “How’s it going, Maya?”

  “Okay. They’ve been getting me to try and practice with my bow. Not really been helping me practice with etiquette.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll help you with that.” Tara wrapped a friendly arm around Maya. Damnit, why did she have to be nice?

  “I appreciate that. I suppose I’ll need to learn a lot more about this place.” And hopefully not have to find out how much I enjoy killing people again. They continued their stilted conversation until food arrived and general Witslaw stood up, raising a glass of blood red wine in a pewter chalice. He cleared his throat and tapped his chalice with a spoon to bring quiet.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Witslaw said. “Royals and generals, witches and trusted servants. We are here today to celebrate the second phase of our war having succeeded. We have secured Bastion. We are in a prime area to defend, to gather resources, and continue our war effort against the beasts that took our home from us. Those overgrown lizards won’t know what’ll be hitting them!”

  Cheers and clapping followed his statement. Maya hesitantly joined in, though she was less enthusiastic than the others. Renne also seemed hesitant for some reason, and she sensed something in their connection. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, though.

  “The one thing we are very proud of as well,” Witslaw continued, adjusting his white collar as he did so. “Is that we’ve finally managed to have one of our royals Bond with someone. We very much look forward to witnessing the things they will achieve together.”

  More cheers and now everyone’s attention focused on her.

  “We look forward to her being a part of the family!”

  Family? The eyes on her stopped Maya from reacting with the sudden fury she felt, but it didn’t stop her from scraping her chair back.

  “Do you have something you want to say to us?” Witslaw asked, still smiling, though some people seemed to catch the ill mood emanating from her – including Renne, who glared.

  “I’m just… I need to go. Thank you.” She attempted a clumsy bow and left the scene to mutters, and Tara calling after her what was wrong. But Maya didn’t want to answer them. She just wanted them gone.

  They weren’t her family. Her only family waited for news from her, terrified something awful had happened. And what was she doing? Sitting there as people celebrated a world away and claimed she was a part of their family. People who didn’t give a fig about her, only about what she was capable of.

  Although the connection between her and Renne weakened with distance, she felt his anger bubbling through it. Humiliation in it, because now, surely he had to explain to the others she was just having a hard time, maybe he needed to answer questions about how they were getting on…

  The connection strengthened. He was coming after her.

  Good. I can tell him to keep me out of these absurd gatherings I don’t want to be a part of. He’d come into her suite to yell, probably. Her eyes examined the suite, so much like a small apartment back home, if more old styled. They sure loved their wooden beams and wood polishings, with their stupid red and gold drapes, hamming up the royal feel. She hated her four poster bed and the ludicrous mirror that would sell in an antique auction back home for thousands and thousands.

  Renne knocked aggressively on her suite doors. Before she responded, he’d already opened and barged through, which she took as the perfect opportunity to yell. “Get out of my rooms! You don’t just knock and enter like that!”

  “You embarrassed me,” he said with a harsh glint in his eyes. “They think I’m some kind of mockery now, questioning whether we even had a Bond at all.”

  “You think I give a shit about what those people think? About this?” She gave a bitter, scornful laugh. “I hate you people think I’m just going to – do whatever it is you want! Join your family? I have my own family to think about! You think I’m just going to stop thinking about my family because you want it?” She was only dimly aware of her voice carrying, probably reaching the servants and guests below. The emotions simmering up and down their connection spun her own words out of control, until she ran on nothing but passion and rage.

  “You,” Renne hissed, “have no right to humiliate me in public. No right at all!” He seized her by the shoulders before she had time to react and slammed her against the door, teeth gritted in rage. The impact shocked Maya and caused an instinctive reflex to well up inside. Magic fought to protect her against him as well as the good, old fashioned desire for preservation. His fury and humiliation washed over her, along with something else. “You know how precarious my position is? Beatrice never wanted me to be king. Half the people supporting our cause think Callum should be king.”

  “Then don’t be king,” Maya snapped, and his eyes bulged.

  “What?”

  “Don’t be king.” Her fingers now gripped his forearms as he still pushed her into the door. “Why should it be a problem? What’s the point in fighting so hard and so long if people don’t want you on the throne anyway? Why not just step aside and let your brother rule?”

  His nails dug into her top, and a red flush colored his cheeks. “Give up? Give up, and prove to everyone who I am? That I’m a failure?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s not failure. It’s choice, Renne. Besides, I know you. I know you don’t actually want to be a king.”

  No words passed between them, but the connection went crazy, as emotions pinged back and forth like a tennis rally. Had she guessed right? Or was she just grasping at straws?

  “You… you can see that inside me?” Renne’s shoulders sagged, and suddenly it seemed all the air had deflated from him.

  Shit. I was right. The words she’d said also applied to herself, unfortunately. It was a choice. “Yes,” Maya said. “I can pick up some things, even if I can’t read your mind. You were jealous of your brother earlier, by the way.”

  The prince nodded to himself but didn’t let go of her. The rage puffed out of him, leaving a hollowness behind. “He suits the image far more than I do. He’s more charming than I am. Skies, even I think he’d make a good king.” He swallowed. “You could have been my way out.”

  “I… could?”

  His eyes met hers, and they seemed to crackle with emotion, drawing her in. The light in the room helped to create molten gold rings in his otherwise dark irises, and she in
stantly became aware then just how close they were together, that she could feel a faint heat in the air from his breaths, that she caught a hint of his scent, which reminded her of a minty aftershave. “Yes. Or, at least, I hoped so. It’s what I told myself. All I need is a Bonded, and my problems will be solved. But it’s not your fault. No – I’m being unfair. Expecting too much.”

  The sudden confession made her re-evaluate her reactions. It also presented to her a different viewpoint of the prince. Not some monster lusting after her magic, but a person squeezed from all directions, and very little places to turn. Also held up to the scrutiny of others, with an image forced upon him. “I’m being unfair as well,” Maya said, closing her eyes. She didn’t seem to want to tell him to take his hands off her now, and the reflex to attack calmed as well. “You have duties, and expectations...”

  And I’m being a child. I’m focusing only on my own worries, and trying to pretend no one else matters. Her eyes opened, and Renne’s gaze seemed to flick down to her lips for a moment, then back up.

  Oh. Her hands were still on his arms. They’d been in the same position long enough for it to become awkward. And something else. She’d been… purposefully avoiding thinking about the prince. Sure, she noticed he was attractive. Anyone with eyes might say the same. But attraction didn’t matter. Not when she wanted to sever ties with this place. She had, assumed, of course, that he didn’t like her. But now something traveled along their Bond, following that invisible connection between them, like a rope tying them together.

  Desire.

  Shit, shit shit! Maya instantly let go, red faced, and Renne quickly brushed down his hands on his legs. “Sorry,” he said. “I assume you felt that.”

  She walked further into the luxurious room, leaning against the four-poster with its red sheets and translucent yellow drapes. “Yeah, I did. Wow. That was...”

  “I know. Um… I’ll talk to you later. Okay? I have, uh, somewhere to be, right now.” Before she had time to muster an answer, Renne opened the door and closed it, leaving her alone.

  Instantly, she flumped onto the bed, taking big breaths, her heart beating fast, and a strange, wriggling sensation in her stomach. Even the memory of how that desire felt was enough to make her lose her breath again for a moment.

  Hooooly shit. She touched her heated cheeks, closed her eyes, and sought out the emotion again, understanding now why she’d shied away. Arousal. Feeling him desire her in that moment was both terrifying and maddening. Like if she’d dared herself to feel anything in return, their combined emotion… might be more than the sum of its parts.

  This, she thought. Is going to be interesting.

  Interesting enough for her to consider doing something about the heat. Excited, she hopped off the bed and locked her door from the inside, finding the key in a little wooden box. She hurried to the bed and dived under the covers, feeling far more alert than before, body quivering with excitement. Her right hand began to stroke along the top of her clothing, and she partly wondered if she should go through with this, if it was completely wrong, before sinking herself into the moment.

  That hand brushed under her shirt, fingertips trailing the warm skin. She knew how she liked it. The other hand joined, until she stroked her breasts, and imagined arching up into someone’s body as she did so. Usually, she’d imagine a celebrity, and one time, Brandon. But right now, there was only one person slotting into her brain to quench the arousal.

  She imagined Renne watching her touch herself. She imagined herself naked as she did so, hoping he’d be turned on, that his desire would practically be choking her. Heart hammering at an increasingly faster pace, her best hand crept into her servant pants, past the underwear to test just how turned on she really was down there.

  Quite a lot, it seemed. And never as fast as this. She shuddered, letting her fingers slip in the wetness there, still clinging onto that mental image of Renne watching her. She arranged the image somewhat, so that it might be his fingers currently touching her, seeking out the sweet spot. Yes… she could picture that. Too well. The prince’s gaze devouring her, that intensity she sometimes saw in his expression all for her. Replace the image again, trading a finger for a tongue…

  She inched closer to orgasm, the images in her mind becoming more disconnected, more about the pressure against her. What if he can sense me doing this? That knowledge edged her over the cliff, and straight into that ever so brief, yet wonderful spread of bliss.

  Lying there in bed, she waited for the shame to hit her. It didn’t find her for quite some time.

  Renne

  Rain slurred the floor of their sparring arena. It pelted down, making visibility hard, but the soldiers and unicirim practiced anyway. Renne sparred against Callum, practicing combat in his equine form, as he still wasn’t really used to it. He probably wouldn’t be swinging much swords with Maya in the picture. Both the sibling’s horns were capped to prevent injury, though they both looked ridiculous, prancing with foam on their horns. In the corner, legs wide as he sat on a stone bench, Witslaw oversaw the whole thing, with Artur scribbling down yet more notes.

  Trying hard not to look at Maya when she walked into the sparring arena with Yvonne, Renne lunged at his brother, who sidestepped neatly, awarding his clumsy launch with a nip on Renne’s wither. He whirled on his lighter, more nimble brother, pretending he didn’t notice Maya’s attention. Or remember that he’d most certainly felt what she was doing when he left the other evening. A part of him still screamed somewhere in his mind that he should have just turned and gone right back because that woman had been turned on like damnation.

  Because of him.

  Concerned, however, she’d feel him loitering close, he hurried away as far as he could but he couldn’t quite shake out the knowledge of what she did. Or that he needed to blow off some steam of his own in private, wondering if she felt what he did, or if the distance was enough to mask his emotions.

  Cowards do what I did. Where’s that strong, dominant man they’re looking for?

  Foam poked Renne’s flank.

  “You’re dead, boy,” Witslaw called, as Callum backed away from his “killing blow.”

  “He seemed quite distracted,” Artur said, pausing in his frenetic writing for a moment. “Perhaps from the stress of the magic. I’ve heard that to be a thing.”

  “No, because he’s lazy and stupid,” Witslaw said. “Again! And try fighting only with your back hooves. See how you do.”

  That involved a lot of spinning, bucking, and stupid misses. Meanwhile, Maya had taken up archery practice again, guided by Yvonne. No magic.

  Avoiding a lash from his brother, Renne twisted and managed a small buck, landing one hoof into Callum’s stomach.

  “Better! As for you, Callum, better hope you didn’t eat too much,” Witslaw said, continuing to give his cozy remarks and instructions. Finishing the sparring left Renne and Callum lathered in sweat, blowing hard through their nostrils. He wanted to gallop off and wash himself in the river, but he settled instead for transforming back into human form and putting himself in a position to watch Maya practice with Yvonne. His sister and her twin brother sparred in their unicirim forms instead. Callum shifted out of his form as well and sauntered over to Renne.

  “So, what was up with Maya last night?”

  Renne responded with a shrug. “She still hasn’t completely adapted to life here. I think she just wanted some alone time.”

  “General Harun was asking when you two would be ready to fight. He seems to want you guys up and killing as soon as possible. His wife asked if you were already married.”

  “We’re not. As you know.” Renne stared at the hard, cobbled ground and where some moss grew in the cemented gaps. The sound of swords clanging, people explaining and yells mixed in with the distant clop clop of traders and their horses, as Bastion functioned as a city in the meanwhile, beyond the training grounds. He heard Witslaw shouting at his sister, and took in cold air to his lungs, knowing the wea
ther would soon morph into rain. “And I’m not sure what we’re doing, really. I don’t think we can keep her with us. I think the first opportunity she gets to go home, that’s what she’s doing to do.”

  “Is she mad?” Callum gaped at Renne. “People would kill to be Bonded to a royal unicirim. It’s more status than they can ever dream of. And she wants to give that up?”

  “It’s not her choice in the first place.” Renne mostly agreed with his brother, but he did also think that she just prioritized different things in her life. Things he didn’t really understand himself, but…

  It wasn’t like he could pretend he didn’t feel her stupid emotions because they were there, day and night. And likely vice versa. The Bond trapped them, forced them to live each other’s feelings when they grew out of control. It was something most people kept private. Their thoughts, their emotions – these were always their own.

  Not with this.

  Still, a part of him did think she should be grateful, that they were pinning all this care upon her, trying to match all of her needs but one.

  “You really think that woman gets her hands on a waystone, she’s gone?”

  “Yes,” Renne said.

  “How selfish. Doesn’t she know the Bond only works once?”

  “I don’t think she knows anything.” He felt uncomfortable with his brother’s questions. They leaned too much on the future. However… he’d been sure she felt attracted to the idea of him, so maybe he could do something about that. Maybe he could… manipulate that, somehow?

  No. Still confused, he walked away from his brother to where Maya and Yvonne was. Both had stopped their actions and instead were talking to one another.

  “You’ve got it in you to be a great fighter,” Yvonne was saying. “But it doesn’t mean you’re suddenly going to become a mass killer. No, you’ll just kill when you need to.”

  “But how can you be sure? What if we just… lose control?” Maya sounded unsure.

  “Do you see me going around killing people?” Yvonne folded her arms, amused at Maya’s questions. “I’m not going to kill those who don’t deserve it. I’ll target those who attack me. Enemy soldiers. Those who attack my friends. That’s it. We’re perfectly capable of adapting to the occasion.”