by K T Munson
“It is an honor,” he said, his large face suddenly pressed together with emotion, as he accepted the fabric.
“No, it is mine to give this gift to a loyal man,” Ashira said and picked up the gold. “The gold in payment of your services, you have outdone yourself Swordsmith Belvix.”
He bowed to her and when he stood he told her, “I have not bowed to any man in many years.”
“I am not a man,” Ashira informed with a quick grin before she turned to her handmaidens. “I cannot wait for lunch; I wish to bring the gift to the King now. Belvix, I will see you again soon.”
“I look forward to it,” he said with another small bow.
The attendant still carrying the box was swept along in the flurry of skirts and women. The other attendant escorted Belvix out of her entertaining chambers and back into the castle. Ashira was excited, she had anticipated this moment for so long. She wanted very much to please her husband and she thought with this he might forgive that first night.
Although she did not have any sort of skill for sewing, she did have one for remembering. It had not taken her long to grasp the layout of the castle. Her handmaidens were not as fortunate, some had gotten lost on occasion, but Ashira had a natural sense of direction. She led them through the castle towards the King’s private study, happiness in every step.
When they arrived, she had Missari announce her as she accepted the box from the attendant, herself. She waited for her to finish before stepping into the room. Lancel and King Highlander were within and there were piles of paper on the desk.
“I beg your pardon,” Ashira exclaimed as she attempted to keep her voice smooth. “I know that I am early for our lunch but I could not wait.”
She made her way across the room as Lancel stood and King Highlander, Eliron she reminded herself, a moment later. Ashira could hardly look away from his face, as she noticed the blue of his eyes and the new shadow of facial hair. She carefully set the box on a small section of desk that wasn’t completely overcome with papers.
“This is a gift, to represent my high esteem. Although it is late, it is my wedding gift to you,” she felt as though she was rambling and quickly stopped talking before her mouth became carried away.
“If you will excuse me I have business to attend to.” Lancel said but she hardly noticed him as Eliron came around the desk.
She was aware that the door closed as she pushed her veil back and watched as Eliron opened the box. When the lid was up she held her breath, afraid to have anything distract her. Surprise registered on his face as he reached in and lifted the blade up.
“It is beautiful,” he whispered as he held it up to the sunlight.
“It was crafted after a blade my grandfather used,” Ashira said proudly. “I wanted you to have a sword like those used in Roanoak.”
Eliron set the blade back down into the case and reached over for her hand. He curled his fingers around her hand as he brought it to his lips. She reached up with her other hand on impulse and cupped his face. Eliron’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but she could hardly hear anything but the beat of her heart. He began to lean forward but then hesitated.
Ashira felt as though she was on a chasm and the world of uncertain was only a step away. All she needed to do was take a step and embrace it. The strange chemistry that had been building between them burst as she stepped forward and used his hold on her hand to pull herself up. Her lips pressed against his, the first time she had ever done so.
He released her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist as he tipped his head to the side and deepened the kiss. She framed his face with her hands as his passion threatened to overtake her. Water was patient and powerful. It had waited for her and now it threatened to drown her in it. Just as quickly as he had deepened the kiss and ignited her buried passion matched by his urgency, he ended it.
He held her out at arm’s length attempting to catch his breath before he managed to say, “I will not allow passion to overcome my reason. I would not dishonor your generous gift by consummating our marriage prematurely.”
Ashira blinked the haze of desire from her eyes as he released her and put the back of her hand to his mouth. Somehow in the space of seconds he had become more handsome to her. She realized in their time together she had come to love the man before her, not just as a king and her husband, but as a man. She knew he held her in high regard and she had matched it.
“Eliron,” she whispered as though there wasn’t enough air in the room.
He turned his head slowly to face her and he turned to kiss her when a knock came to the door. Ashira gasped, startled by the disruptive sound. Her lips felt swollen and she was lightheaded from the experience. She took an instinctive step back as her hand flew to her throat.
“Who is it?” Eliron all but seemed to growl.
Lancel opened the door and held up a scroll with a broken seal as he said, “There is an urgent letter that needs your immediate attention.”
“It had better be important,” he retorted, clearly irritated.
He crossed the room and snatched the scroll right out of Lancel’s hand. He unfurled it and began to read the contents. Ashira turned her head away a moment as she tried to calm her racing heart. She felt dazed under the reality of her own heart. When she looked back at him, Eliron finished reading before returning her gaze over his shoulder.
“What is it?” Ashira asked, suddenly worried.
“Ostapor has fallen to a man who is freeing slaves,” Eliron informed her. “There are rumors they are traveling down The Knife.”
“They travel towards Roanoak?” Ashira felt herself stiffen.
He turned back to her and walked across the room to take her hands in his. “The reports are inconclusive. We will need to change our plans and leave immediately.”
“For Roanoak?” Ashira said hopefully as her hands gripped his.
“Yes,” Eliron confirmed. “I had hoped to take you back under happier circumstances.”
“We were going to go to Roanoak? Why?” Ashira asked, as all number of reasons ran around her head.
“Do not worry my wife,” Eliron said with a confident smile. “I was going to surprise you. Your father is going to hold a celebration for your birthday; it is only natural that we should attend.”
She felt as though she was going to cry and laugh all at once as she whispered, “Thank you.”
“It is only natural,” he whispered to her as he bent to kiss her cheek, “to want to make my wife, that I love, happy.”
Before she could comprehend his words he pressed his lips against her cheek and fled the room. She watched after him, transfixed, until the door closed. She put a hand on her cheek, touching the place he had kissed her. All her fears and doubts vanished because one fact was clear. He loved her and in her heart she felt the same.
Missari swept into the room and came to Ashira’s side, “While we are alone, there is something I must tell you.”
“What is it Missari?” Ashira asked swallowing down her emotions.
“You must never say you and the King haven’t shared a bed,” Missari said her voice pitched low.
“Why ever not?” Ashira asked suddenly worried.
“In Vargos a wedding is not legally binding until it is consummated,” Missari informed her. “I saw that night, King Highlander left too soon and I know he has not come for you.”
Ashira felt her mouth drop open of its own volition before she gained control of it. She remembered that night with complete clarity and what Eliron had chosen to do. He had chosen her comfort over the legality of their marriage. In her heart she heard it whisper that she was ready, ready to truly become his wife. He had always put her first and now she wanted to become his.
Chapter 38
Celia
Celia stood on deck and watched as Ostapor faded along the horizon. This boat would carry them to Tiam and then to Roanoak. It was amazing to think that night that Vovo died she had met a prince. The truth of Hadrian’s
lineage had become clear and she had sought him out to offer her help. She had gathered women who wanted to be free and she had brought them to him.
There was no place for her in the north any longer, not in Lorian nor Ostapor. If she stayed the only thing that awaited her was enslavement and death. Hadrian was bringing them to a place that he could build a new empire; a place where they could be free. The people of Roanoak could not turn them all away. Celia turned away as the towers and walls of Ostapor were lost on the horizon.
The days had passed in a flurry of activity and Celia has been too busy to think. Now standing in near silence as the boats moved against the flowing river she felt no deep sadness. Her owner, The Gentleman, had survived; she had seen him on the street with his shrewish wife and crying child. They had been turned from their homes. She had taken the golden pendant he had given her and returned it to him, telling him to sell it to leave Ostapor and never return.
The Gentleman had never been cruel to her and in a way he had saved her from a crueler fate. Yet seeing him huddled under a dirty blanket with dust in his hair and soot on his face, he had seemed so pitiful. Rauf had waited for her while she spoke with him and gave him the golden jewelry. As she had left, The Gentleman had reached out to seize her wrist and whispered that she was going to do something important; he had sensed it in her.
She did not know if he took her advice and fled, and she did not care. That was in the past now, just as Harrison and Lorian were. She wondered if she was moving towards another place that would soon become a memory that she would once more be in search of a new home. Suddenly the world seemed cold and she shivered despite the heat of summer. Instantly, she turned to seek the comfort of Rauf’s arms.
As she started down the deck towards the cabins below, those around her looked towards her. Some smiled, some leered, and others averted their gaze in shame. They knew what she had been, and what that meant, like a black stain on her back. Yet it didn’t bother her, as she imagined it should, and there were others who accepted her.
She went down the stairs and heard Narana’s voice, “You are a brute!”
“You should not take what is not yours,” Rauf said his voice was rough and uncaring.
“Celia said that all her clothes were mine to borrow!” She said like the child trying to be a woman.
“Those jewels at your throat are not clothes,” Rauf said harshly as Celia rounded the corner.
Narana had her hands on her hips as Rauf blocked the door. He had his arms crossed and his bulk was an imposing sight. She was wearing Celia’s other string of pearls and one of the smaller outfits Celia had taken. When Narana saw her she immediately appeared to be relieved.
“Celia, call off your guard dog,” she whined and skirted around Rauf to run up to her.
“You do not want to wear these pearls,” Celia said reaching around and unclasping them. “They were a sign of my enslavement; all women of the Satin Pillow wore them.”
Narana looked horrified as she asked, “Why would you keep them?”
“To remember,” Celia said almost sadly. “I wear them with pride as a free woman. I believe you would be stunning in the gold torc.”
Celia walked into the cabin the three of them shared and replaced the pearls. She rustled through her trunk for a moment before picking out the torc. It had two emeralds hanging off each end and had a twisted gold like rope look to it.
“As green as your eyes,” Celia said and slipped it around her neck.
Narana touched it before smiling and throwing her arms around Celia. With a startled laugh Celia hugged her back. She was so small to Celia now but it would not be long until Narana outgrew her.
“Thank you,” Narana whispered before turning her head over and sticking her tongue out at Rauf and running out of the cabin.
Celia watched her go before thinking aloud, “You will have a difficult time if you continue to be so rough with women.”
Celia had noticed that Rauf was rough with everyone else, especially women. For some reason he turned into a grumpy old bear around them. Celia hadn’t noticed it at the Satin Pillow, but here, among free women, he was coarse. Narana had noticed it actually, and pointed out that he was like that with everyone, except Celia.
He grunted and muttered, “Doesn’t matter.”
Celia turned around to face him and demanded, “Why?”
He met her gaze steadily as he said, “You’re all that matters.”
Celia’s face burned and she averted her eyes as she asked, “How can you say that with a straight face?”
“I do not need to muddy the truth,” he said taking a step closer so that she had to raise her head to focus on him. “Women have always made me uncomfortable, but your kindness was genuine.”
Celia felt herself laugh before she could stop herself and say, “You’re shy!”
He reached out and grasped her shoulders before she could respond. He pulled her up against him and crushed his lips to hers. He kissed her passionately and completely until she thought she would drown in his desire. When he did shift back both of their chests were heaving.
“It does not keep me from expressing what I want,” Rauf said.
Celia studied his face as she tried to control her wild heart. Before reason could set in she threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss ruthlessly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she felt his big hands on her back. Celia felt as though he had enveloped her in his arms.
Someone cleared their throat and knocked on the open cabin door. Celia nearly jumped out of her skin as she tipped her head back towards the door. Hadrian stood in her doorway, amused. Celia and Rauf disentangled and she instinctively smoothed out the front of her clothes.
“I apologize for the interruption,” Hadrian said formally. “Can I have a moment of your time, Celia?”
Celia blinked the confusion and haze of passion from her eyes. “Of course.”
Hadrian stepped back and Celia swept past him into the hallway. They traveled down the hallway before coming to the empty galley. She could hear the cook working away within but her focus was on Hadrian. She looked like a child next to Rauf’s size, but Hadrian didn’t have his impressive bulk. He was an older man who wore his years well and his cloths hid a well-trained body.
“I have a proposition for you,” Hadrian said as he turned to face her, “I admired your ability to gather people to you. Those women are as loyal to you as they are to me. I would like to make you a representative member of my small council.”
“But I was a pleasure slave,” Celia stuttered, hardly able to complete her sentence because of how astonished she was.
“And I an exiled prince,” Hadrian retorted. “We all have pasts. What choice will you make for your future?”
Rauf and Narana had wanted to leave Hadrian’s armada in Tiam and try to build a life for themselves. Celia had felt conflicted on the matter and had expressed it to them. They had not understood why she had wanted so badly to start anew. She was much more than her past and Hadrian was a way into the future she wanted; a home she always desired.
“What would you want of me?” Celia asked, wanting to make sure of his intentions.
“The women and their needs would be your priority,” Hadrian informed her. “If your companions wanted posts within the palace I would give it to them.”
“Rauf is mine,” she retorted immediately.
“I see,” Hadrian said focusing momentarily behind on their cabin.
Celia nodded and said after a brief hesitation, “But I will accept your offer. I am sure your brother will accept you back into the palace or at least Roanoak.”
He paused. “Good,” Hadrian said with a slight nod of his head, “I may need you in Tiam.”
Without saying another word he turned and swept from the room. She watched him go before walking towards Rauf. She was going to make a place for them, a place where they could be together without shame or the threat of poverty. When she stepped back into the room she fou
nd Rauf pacing. He glanced up at her in surprise when she entered.
“What did he want?” Rauf asked, but there was an edge to his voice.
“He wants me to serve on his small council,” Celia said with a smile. “We are going to live in the palace.”
Rauf looked suddenly upset as he said, “We may die in a foolish war. We should stay in Tiam.”
Celia framed his worried face as she responded, “Hadrian is making us a home and I want to build it with you at my side.”
He searched her face but Celia didn’t wait. She released him and turned to close the door, before flipping the lock. When she turned around with her back against the door she found his eyebrows were pressed up towards his hairline. She smiled coyly at him as she pushed off the door and put her hands on his chest.
“Alone at last.” Celia said lightheartedly but honestly she was nervous and tried to keep the shake out of her voice.
He captured her chin in his big hands and forced her head back as he whispered, “Your lips quiver. Anticipation or fear?”
“Both,” Celia said and her breath caught, “I want this, but what if I disappoint you?”
“You have been the most beautiful thing to me since the moment I saw you,” Rauf said and kissed her gently, like a breath of air against her lips and she closed her eyes transfixed. “That man may have made you sing, I am going to make you scream my name.”
Opening her eyes in surprise as he lifted her up, he laid her on the small bed, she felt as though she weighed nothing to him but he still deposited her gently. Celia tried to sit up but Rauf pressed her back shaking his head.
“Stay,” he commanded as he lifted the edge of her skirt and started forward.
“Wait!” She cried wiggling back as she gathered her legs up and tried to press the skirt down out of his hands, “What do you think you are doing?”
“Undress,” was his only response.
“Now you listen here,” Celia said, trying to get her legs under her, “I will not be ordered around.”
