Her heart, which seemed to be behaving in an absurdly silly manner, leapt with hope. “You’re not going to ask me to release you from the promise?”
He frowned. “Never. Asking to be released from a vow is nearly as bad as breaking one.”
She would never be able to keep track of all these rules. Something occurred to her, maybe Gen’s unwelcome voice in the back of her mind. “Would it be honorable thing for me to do if I released you from the promise without you requesting it?” she asked hesitantly, while part of herself jumped up and down, screaming with rage, wanting to know what in Moranu she was doing. “Because of duress,” she added, when he gave her a quizzical look.
Something about that made his summer-sky eyes dance with amusement, but he otherwise regarded her seriously. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Never,” she replied, exactly the way he’d said it to her—except her reasons were entirely about going after what she wanted, while his were about putting honor ahead of his own desires. “But I don’t want to force you into anything.”
He smiled then, though it had a wistful slant, and he trailed a finger over the curve of her cheek. “I made the offer of my own free will.”
“Because you were afraid for me.”
“Because you matter to me.”
Tracing the edge of her jaw, he seemed fascinated, desire heating in his eyes. Hot Astar now. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, and only severe self-restraint—well, and not wanting to scare him off—kept her from sucking it into her mouth. “I should be honest with you, Zephyr,” he said, very quietly, and her silly, jumping heart clenched with trepidation. He leaned in closer, his thumb tugging on her lip gently, his gaze focused there as if he meant to kiss her. “I’m relieved to have an excuse to discard my better judgment.”
He lowered his mouth. His breath, warm and wine-scented, wafted over her skin…
A door flew open, sending the pair of them flying apart. She nearly shifted into a bird, she was so startled.
“Prince Willy, my boy!” King Groningen boomed out. “Up to your usual shenanigans, I see. And you brought me a beautiful Tala woman.” Though he carried a cane, the broad-chested man with a massively bushy white beard strode toward her with no apparent impairment. Picking up her hand, he bowed over it, then peered at her cannily. “You’re not Nilly.”
“No, indeed,” she replied, immediately charmed. “I’m Zephyr.”
He narrowed his eyes, studying her face. “Daughter of Zyr and Karyn, if I don’t miss my mark.” He grinned at her surprise. “You have your father’s eyes and blue-black hair, and your lovely mother’s complexion and bone structure.” Then he winked. “And your wily father’s tricksy nature, no doubt.”
Absurdly, she flushed with pleasure. “I’m surprised you know my parents.”
“Oh, we’ve encountered one another a few times over the years.”
“My sympathies,” she offered very seriously.
He boomed out a laugh. “Gorgeous and clever. I approve, Willy boy. Excellent choice, for a mistress.” He added that last with a peculiar emphasis.
Astar opened his mouth, and Zeph anticipated with some mischievous amusement what excuse he might offer for their near-kiss, which Groningen had clearly witnessed. But Astar only inclined his head and put his hand on the small of Zeph’s back. “Zephyr is an amazing woman,” he said.
Zeph couldn’t have been more surprised. In fact, she lost track of the conversation until she was being gently but firmly ushered into Groningen’s inner study. Astar pressed her still-full wine goblet into her hand. “You look like you need this,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear with a tantalizing caress.
As she certainly did, she drained the cup—and wondered when Astar had taken the reins.
~ 17 ~
True to Lena’s prediction, King Groningen kept them there until well into the night—and asked to hear the particulars of what happened several times, including from Zeph’s perspective. She hadn’t expected he’d grill her so thoroughly, nor that he’d ask such penetrating questions. Groningen extracted salient details from her that she hadn’t realized she’d noticed at the time. He also didn’t buy into Astar’s glib explanation about the freak lunar eclipse being caused by an unusually dense storm cloud, but he noted it down and didn’t press further.
Fortunately—after he’d discovered they hadn’t eaten since morning—he also sent for food for all of them. Eating gave Astar a second wind, but after several more hours of discussion, he was flagging. So much so that Zeph was thinking up excuses to end the meeting, or at least postpone until morning, when the sharp-eyed king noticed and relented. “Bah! I’m four times your age and outlasting you, Willy boy. What is the world coming to?”
“I don’t think it’s quite four times,” Astar replied wryly, spoiling it by having to stifle a yawn.
“He also battled a stone giant and saved my life, twice,” Zeph added, then cocked her head, tapping her chin in thought. “Or three times, depending on how you divide it up. Anyway, Astar is a hero and has probably earned his bed for the night.”
Groningen glared at her fiercely, bushy brows lowered. Then he abruptly slapped the table, laughing in that booming way of his. “I like her,” he informed Astar. “I bet she has some sharp claws, too. If I were a younger man… Ah, well.” He heaved his considerable bulk up from the chair, reaching to tug on a braided silk rope. “I’ll have someone show you to your rooms. We can go over this in the morning. I’ll want to hear the tale again from everyone, along with their perspectives on what Queen Andromeda saw with this rift.” When the same page returned to guide them, Groningen issued a set of rapid-fire orders, including summoning half a dozen people to attend him.
Astar and Zeph followed the page out and were handed off to another, who led them back through hallways as twisty within as Elderhorst looked from without. “Apparently King Groningen isn’t done discussing the problem,” Zeph observed to Astar.
He smiled wearily. “I’m just relieved he let us go for now. I don’t know where the man gets his energy.”
“How old is he anyway?”
“I don’t think anyone knows exactly. He was already king of Carienne when late High King Uorsin was an upstart troublemaking sailor from Elcinea.”
Zeph did the mental math, figuring Ursula’s age against her father’s likely age when she was born—and came up with a figure that could put Groningen at close to four times Astar’s age. Tala tended to be long-lived—shapeshifting made for an excellent rejuvenator of aging flesh—but Groningen seemed impressively vital for a mossback. Maybe he had some Tala blood in him from way back. Many mossback families did, from the days before Annfwn sealed itself off.
“You did well in there,” Astar offered with a smile. “I was glad to have you with me—you remembered things I forgot or didn’t notice.”
She preened under the praise, though the prickly side of her nature registered the hint of surprise in his voice. “I’m not that flighty,” she replied, remembering Gen’s jibe about keeping her mouth shut. “And I can be discreet if I choose—I just don’t see the point most of the time.”
“I know,” Astar said soothingly, taking her hand. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled.”
If she’d been in gríobhth form, she would’ve clacked her beak at him. As it was, she settled for sniffing haughtily.
“Your Highness Crown Prince Astar, Lady Zephyr,” the page said, giving no sign that she’d heard any of the conversation, “your rooms. There are hot baths waiting, wine, and cold snacks to hold you until morning. However, if you need anything else, I can arrange for that.”
Astar lifted a brow at Zeph as he gestured for her to precede him through the double doors the page opened, and she shook her head. “No, thank you,” Astar told the page. “We’ll be fine till then.”
“Will you be needing a lady’s maid, Lady Zephyr?” the page inquired.
“Moranu, no!” Zeph replied, a bit too forcefully—partly because she�
��d just registered that she and Astar would apparently be sharing a room. And the one bed. Praise the goddess. She hoped, anyway, as she and Astar hadn’t quite finished the conversation by the fire. A sneaky and most unfamiliar feeling kept prodding at her that she should release Astar from that vow. While another and far more familiar voice tried to shout it down. Why shouldn’t they enjoy each other?
Because it will tear him apart and you know it, the annoying voice replied.
Shush, she told it. He’ll enjoy being with me and I know that. He’ll be better for sowing some oats before they lock him up to play stud for the high throne.
Astar isn’t the kind to bed a woman lightly. If you do this, it will change everything for him. Are you willing to take responsibility for that?
Look, voice, she replied, I don’t know where you came from, but you are not welcome in my head.
I’ve always been here. You just don’t ever listen.
“Zephyr?” Astar said her name in a tone that indicated it wasn’t the first time.
She realized she’d been staring at the one—albeit quite large and enticing—bed while she argued with the annoying voice in her head. Wonderful. Now she was losing her mind. She pasted on a bright smile. “So,” she said as neutrally as possible, “they put us in the same room?”
Astar nodded slowly, watching her with a hooded expression. “You heard Groningen—he assumes we’re a couple, given that scene he witnessed,” he added, flushing lightly. “I am sorry he called you my mistress, and that I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to correct him.”
Ah, dear Moranu, how this man delighted her. She prowled up to him, sliding her hands over the velvety material of his jacket, and began unbuttoning it. “Is being a mistress a bad thing?”
“No,” he answered uneasily, “but I don’t want to shame you in any way.”
“I can’t be shamed,” she reminded him, opening his jacket to splay her hands over his shirt-clad chest, his heart pounding beneath as he gazed down at her, cold and hot at once, wariness and anticipation crowding each other in his pretty eyes. “I have no obligation to live up to any sort of prudish mossback standards.”
He winced, but settled his hands on her hips. “Allow me to rephrase. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I hold you in anything less than the highest esteem. Groningen thinks you’re mine, so I’ll treat you as I would if you truly were.”
There went her heart, leaping about in a giddy dance. “So, are we doing this?” she asked, feeling unduly cautious. The conscience-voice wrested control of her mouth right then. “I will release you from your vow, if you wish.” Stupid voice.
“Don’t,” he replied, voice rough, hands tightening on her waist. “Please don’t.”
Her lips curved in sensual triumph. As she’d thought—Astar wanted an excuse to break his own rules, an out that would let them have each other, if only for a little while. She would be forever his first lover, and the possessive gríobhth in her took fierce delight in that. No matter who Astar eventually chained himself to, he would never forget her. She dug her nails into his chest, growing them just a little longer so he’d feel the light prick of them.
“I have a complaint to register, however,” she purred.
“I may not be experienced in this,” he offered with a half-smile, “but even I know I can’t have failed to please you at this stage.”
She laughed, utterly enchanted by his artless honesty and sincerity. “The night is half gone,” she pointed out. “If I only get one night, then I want my full allotment.”
“We’ll be here several nights at least,” he said, one hand sliding up to pluck a pin from her elaborately styled hair, dropping it on the floor where it made no sound on the plush rug. Nevertheless, it sent an arousing ping through her blood. “Unless you ask to be moved, we’ll be sharing this room—and bed—all that time. What if,” he asked in a measured tone, “we agree to extend the bargain to the entire time we’re here at Elderhorst?”
“I would be amenable to an extension,” she breathed, hardly able to believe her luck.
It’s because he’s lost his moral compass, the voice suggested. He was determined to save himself for marriage, and that was a clear line he knew not to cross. Now that he’s crossing it, where is the next line? Maybe there isn’t one…
“Excellent news,” Astar said, his smile warm. He reached to pluck out another pin, hesitated. “May I take your hair down?”
“Of course—though it would be faster for me to shift.”
“I’d like to do it the slow way, if it’s all right.”
“I said yes already,” she replied.
“Just being sure.” His fingers deftly searched for the pins in her hair, meticulously extracting them one by one. “These look just like the pins the Ordnung ladies use,” he commented. “It’s amazing to me that you can just… conjure them.”
“I don’t. Not really. These pins are from Ordnung. I gathered various supplies I thought I’d need to play noble mossback lady on this trip. My mother found several gowns for me, and I had a maid put up my hair in a few different styles, then I shapeshifted and cached them all for future use.”
“You’re amazing. I can’t do anything like that.”
“You could. It just takes practice.”
His gaze focused on her hair, he caressed each long coil as he freed it. “That’s why you were late meeting us. I’m sorry I assumed you were being irresponsible.”
“To be fair, I did stay up all night flying, which also made me late meeting my mother. If it makes you feel better, she explained my irresponsibility at great length.”
“It doesn’t make me feel better, and I know Karyn holds you to high standards. I think I haven’t always been fair to you,” he replied cryptically, kissed her forehead, then frowned. “Is this all right?”
“Astar, darling,” she said on a sigh, “you have blanket permission to do anything you like to me. That means you may simply take instead of asking.”
He nodded—but still with that vague frown. “I don’t know if I know how to do that. It’s not how I operate normally.”
His famous self-restraint. No, Astar would never take anything for himself. The quality would make him a good king, and they all loved him for it. She supposed changing his normal rules of behavior was all part of debauching him. Still, she didn’t want him fretting. Nimbly undoing the laces of his quite-wrinkled shirt, she glanced up at his intent expression. “If you do anything I don’t like, I’ll tell you. And you do the same,” she offered.
It was the right thing to say, because he relaxed under her hands, glancing down at her as he combed his fingers into her hair, the mass of it falling heavy down her back. “I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured, “for as long as I can remember. You’re so beautiful, Zephyr. Sometimes I thought my hands would burst into flame from wanting to touch you.”
Parting the cloth of his shirt, she spread her hands over his broad chest, savoring the crisp hairs gilding his impressive musculature. Pressing a kiss over his heart, she smiled against his skin, inhaling him. Mine, the gríobhth in her hissed. Only for now, she reminded herself, though she wasn’t sure if anyone was listening. Tipping her head back, she gazed up at Astar’s beautiful face. “I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember, too.”
“I know you don’t want me to ask,” he replied in a hushed voice, summer-sky eyes lingering on her lips, “but you’ll have to guide me. I’ve never kissed a woman before.”
“Lips to lips,” she breathed, holding perfectly still, as if any careless movement on her part might shatter the moment. She’d wanted this for so long that it seemed nearly impossible that it would actually happen. Surely something would intervene, cruelly extending her longing into something eternally unrequited.
Astar’s gorgeously formed lips curved in a slight smile. “Lips to lips,” he echoed. Cupping her head in his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers. She held her breath. His breath wafted warm and fragrant over her parted lips.<
br />
And he kissed her.
That first contact, his mouth to hers, felt like lightning forking through the sky as she flew through a thunderstorm, an exhilarating reminder of her own mortality. It shot through her with all the potency of an enchantment released, tearing a moan from her. One Astar echoed, the sound thrumming through her as he gathered her close against him. He tasted her mouth again, a brush of his lips, as if testing their texture. She tilted her head slightly to improve the fit, showing him wordlessly how to move their lips together, an enticing caress that spoke of more intimate caresses to come.
He proved an eager student, deepening the kiss on his own with increasing fervor. With the first touch of their tongues, he growled, the rumbling thunder thrilling her, and she found herself clinging to him. Sliding her hands up to his muscled shoulders, she dug her nails into him as he slid one hand to the small of her back, arching her against him and cupping her head as if her mouth were a goblet of wine he drank from. For the first time in her fierce life, she felt fragile, vulnerable even. And paradoxically safe and protected. Some small part of her was frightened by the rush of such foreign feelings, but that edge of uncertainty only added to the excitement of the moment. Astar supported her entire weight, as if he’d never let her fall, and she reveled in being held by him.
He drew away reluctantly, showering her lips with small kisses, both of them breathing heavily as he searched her face. “Lips to lips,” he whispered. “So simple and yet…”
“And yet,” she agreed with a smile. Her entire body pulsed with need, throbbing for more. “What next?” she asked, feeling oddly tender toward him. In her fantasies, she’d imagined herself in control, ravishing him and taking him by storm. In the moment, however, she only wanted to coax him along, let him dissolve the walls he’d placed between them at his own pace.
The Golden Gryphon and the Bear Prince: An Epic Fantasy Romance (Heirs of Magic Book 1) Page 16
