“Look, Talia. What do you see to the east?”
I squint into the morning sun. “The ocean.” Blue vastness rolling in. A distant horizon where sea creatures make themselves at home.
“And to the west?” Eleni asks.
I shrug, twisting a hank of long, windblown hair around my grubby finger. My nails are a mess from digging up stones to throw at Cousin Aarken when he chased me into a ravine the other day. He shot me with an arrow, but I knocked him out. “Fisa? The lakes?”
Eleni shakes her head. Her loose blonde hair slides over her slim shoulders, and her clear-blue eyes sparkle with a hidden joy I’ve never understood. “That’s the entire world. And it’s yours.”
CHAPTER 25
I kick off my boots and then fall backward onto our new bed in Castle Sinta. A satisfied groan rises from deep within my chest. I spread out my arms and legs, wiggling into the softness of the feather mattress and relishing the feel of high-quality linens.
After settling comfortably in, I turn my head and watch Griffin splash water over his face, rinsing away the dust of travel. The room is fully furnished again. There’s even a new window seat and a grand total of eleven rugs on the floor. Eleven!
“You’re very clever to have ordered a new bed before we left,” I tell him. “And the rest is nice, too.”
Griffin threads his wet fingers through his hair, slicking it back. He flashes me a roguish grin and prowls over. “You’re very clever to recognize my cleverness.”
Awareness licks through me at the marauding gleam in his eyes. “I wish I’d thought of it. I would have ordered a bed twice this size.”
One midnight eyebrow creeps up. “How many people are you planning to fit in it? It’s already big enough for Lycheron and his Nymphs.”
I make a face. “Let’s not bring them into our bed. They were hard enough to deal with on the road.” Talk about temper. And libido. The Ipotane make Griffin and me look tame.
I grab the pillows above my head and drag them down next to me, finishing my complete destruction of the neatly made bed. “When we dropped them off, they made such a stink that the entire border must smell like horse manure by now.”
Griffin laughs. The rich, deep sound melts into me, warming my insides. He smiles easily enough, but he doesn’t often laugh outright unless it’s with me. I love being the one to make him happy.
I smile back—a wide, idiotic, joyful grin.
“They were great protection,” he points out. “Not a single creature bothered us on the way back.”
“True. Some even ran the other way.” I toss the pillows aside and then lock my gaze with Griffin’s. “So what’s next?”
His eyes heat up. “You. Me. Bath. That new bed.”
Desire whips through me on a web of white-hot lightning. It’s been days since we were last alone together. Still, I can’t help teasing. “Poor old man. So tired he needs to sleep. No more adventures for you.”
I prop my head in my hand, watching Griffin’s eyes narrow as he stalks the last few steps toward me—predatory, confident, all strong, loose limbs ready to snap into action.
“Old man?” he growls, looming over the bed.
I grin. “If I’m going to marry you, I should probably know how old you are. I’m guessing really old. Just look at you.” I poke his rock-solid abdomen. “So soft.”
Griffin moves fast, seizing me around the waist and lifting me high into the air. I shriek, my hair flying and my arms flailing as he turns, sits on the edge of the bed, and then drops me into his lap with me straddling him.
Laughing, I spear my fingers into his damp hair and grip the jet-black locks, tugging a little. His eyes turn hooded, silvery-hot, and he makes a gravelly sound in his throat. Griffin slips his hands under my tunic, settling them over my hips and backside. He yanks me hard against him, showing me just how soft he definitely is not.
His thumbs skate over the strip of bare skin above the waistline of my pants. “Are you asking for a spanking?” he demands quietly in my ear.
Heated shivers branch out from the base of my spine. I pretend to pout, which feels ridiculous. “Poor dear. You’ve forgotten already. I asked how old you are.” I enunciate carefully, since he’s obviously hard of hearing and going senile.
Griffin’s gorgeous, distracting mouth twitches. “Thirty-four.”
I gasp. “You are old!”
He chuckles. “And you? I should know, too.”
“What’s the date?” I have no idea. All I know is that it’s raining outside for the first time in months, and the sound of the heavy drops hitting the marble below is like the constant, steady beat of a drum. The air smells steamy. Damp. Renewed.
Griffin tells me, and I laugh. “I turn twenty-four tomorrow.”
He frowns, stopping the light stroking around my middle that was driving me to distraction. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
I shift in his lap, trying to recapture the tightening and tingling in my lower body. “I forgot. It’s not important.”
He frowns harder. “Stop wiggling, or we won’t make it to the bathhouse.”
“Stop doing this?” I grind down on him with a leisurely swirl of my hips, moaning at the exquisite spark of sensation where our bodies meet.
A breath hisses between Griffin’s teeth. “Cat…”
My eyes sweep up, and Griffin’s molten gaze collides with mine. I arch my back, lifting up on my knees and slowly sliding along his thick, hard length. Heat spreads through me like sunshine on a summer day. His lips part, and he seems to stop breathing, his dazed reaction ratcheting up my need. I don’t want anything between us.
Griffin blinks, then his fingers tighten on my hips. In a low rasp, he asks, “How should we celebrate?”
I lean forward and kiss him hungrily, sliding my tongue along his full bottom lip. “How about we find a holy man and take some vows,” I whisper against his mouth.
Griffin makes a rough, masculine sound that scorches me to my toes. I’m on my back in two seconds flat, and we never make it to the baths.
* * *
“Happy birthday.” Griffin brushes a warm kiss across my temple. “What kind of ceremony do you want?”
It takes a moment to process what Griffin is talking about. Our wedding.
I’ve only just opened my eyes and found myself in my favorite place—sprawled half on top of him, my arm across his broad chest, my legs tangled up with his. Crisp hair tickles my thighs and calves. My breasts are pressed against skin as smooth and hot as sun-warmed marble. He smells like man and home, and I nestle in, nowhere near ready to get up yet.
Griffin’s large hand covers most of my back. His fingers move in an idle pattern. “A public ceremony would make a statement. Show you to your people.”
My insides lurch, waking me up like a thunderclap and eradicating the pleasant warmth spreading through my body. My people. Fisans. Sintans by the end of the day. Tarvans, too?
“A public ceremony will make me run away,” I croak, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
Griffin’s chest rises on a deep breath, lifting me, too. “You can’t run anymore, Cat. Fate caught up.”
Shuddering like I just got doused by a bucket of ice water, I sit up, pushing tangled hair out of my face. “Fate can bite me, and so can you if you try to make me do this in front of thousands of people.”
Looking at me from under his thick, inky lashes, Griffin loops an arm around my waist and drags me back down, making sure I land mostly on top of him. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve been planning a private ceremony.”
“Planning since when?” I pinch his side to let him know I’m annoyed.
He scoots out of my grasp, grinning. “Since the birds woke me up about three hours ago.”
“What?” I sit up again, kneeling on the rumpled sheets and finally noticing how bright it is outside.
I’m an early riser—or I used to be. “Why did you let me sleep?”
“Why not?” His knuckles graze my thigh in a slightly rasping caress, and he looks at my naked body with an intensity that makes me shiver. “I knew you’d wake up when you weren’t tired anymore.”
I huff. Sort of. “Well, would Your Logicalness care to take me to breakfast and tell me about your plans?”
Meeting my gaze, Griffin slowly drags his knuckles up the sensitive skin along my inner thigh.
“Would Your Nakedness care to get dressed first?” he asks.
My eyes drop to his formidable chest, his ridged abdomen, and the trail of inviting dark hair leading from his navel to under the impressively tented sheet. I lick my lips, suddenly dying to taste every inch of him. “Not really.”
Griffin’s mouth spreads into a wide grin. He sits up in one quick, powerful surge and then reaches for me, his eyes glittering with intent. With his wild black hair, shadowed jaw, and storm-cloud eyes, he looks so determined and dangerous that I twist and lunge across the bed, narrowly escaping him.
Griffin pounces, catching my ankle. He hauls me back and then rolls me beneath him, pinning my hands on either side of my head. I squirm and pretend to fight, loving every second of it. He grips me harder. Looking fierce and stern, he lowers his face until our noses almost touch. Then he slides down my body, leaving a trail of hot kisses, wet licks, and soft little nips. He doesn’t let go of my wrists. He just drags them down with him, holding me fast.
“Breakfast in bed?” he rumbles against my hip.
I grin as his mouth settles over my most intimate place. My knees fall wide. He’s not talking about food.
* * *
We do eventually get dressed and look for food, although we only make it to the dining room in time for lunch. Egeria accepts her ousting as Alpha Sinta without a hint of anger or regret. Clearly, it’s what she was expecting all along. Piers is away on a recruitment trip, but the rest of the family is here and overjoyed by our wedding announcement. Jocasta decrees that we have to go shopping, now, and Kaia bounces in her seat, beyond excited about any outing that will actually get her on the other side of the castle gate.
Shopping requires money, so I dig around in Griffin’s pocket under the table, letting my fingers wander enough for him to nearly choke on his stew. I find four gold coins and hold on to them. “You never pay me.”
He looks aghast. “I can’t pay you anymore.”
“We’re about to get married. No one’s going to confuse me with a prostitute.”
Kaia spits out a grape. It bounces across the table and then lands in her mother’s lap. Kaia slaps her hand over her mouth, her blue-gray eyes huge, and Nerissa gives her a quelling look. The look finishes on me, and I might have felt a little quelled myself if Carver hadn’t suddenly made a noise like a donkey, finally belting out the laugh he’d been holding back.
Anatole bangs his hand down on the table and bursts out laughing. He sounds like a donkey, too. It’s contagious, and the whole table erupts, snorting and braying until most of us are wiping tears from our eyes. I shake my head, grinning. I haven’t laughed like this in…well, ever.
Nerissa eventually gets up, comes over to me, and then kisses my cheek, something that would usually make me squirm. Today, it somehow feels normal. “I always wanted to have four daughters.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Now I do.”
I keep smiling like a loon even though my throat suddenly feels thick, and heat stings the backs of my eyes. I have a family that loves me. I would protect them with my life.
Well, maybe not Piers, but I have a feeling he would return the sentiment.
Thoughts of Piers kill my smile and leave me feeling oddly queasy. Or maybe that’s the explosion of emotion. Or the lamb.
I lay down my fork, not hungry anymore. Griffin pushes his chair back, signals for Carver to follow him, and then drops a kiss onto the top of my head. Things like that are natural for him—for everyone here except for me.
“Meet me at the Athena temple at sundown,” Griffin says.
Excitement and nerves twist my insides into a knot. I slide a hand over my churning stomach. “What should I do?”
“Get ready for your wedding.” Griffin’s smile makes my heart skip a beat. Or maybe three.
“Besides that. For the preparations, I mean.”
He tucks some flyaway hair behind my ear. “Nothing. I’ll take care of everything. Trust me, agapi mou.”
I nod. I do. I really, really do.
* * *
I make it back to our room in time to throw up my entire meal. Talk about wedding jitters. Gah!
I’m feeling better by the time Jocasta and Kaia knock on the door. We collect Kato and Flynn, two of Sinta’s most exalted warriors, to carry packages for us—something which not so secretly makes me laugh.
Flynn gruffly insists they’re there for protection, and I roll my eyes when he straps on about fifteen extra weapons just to prove it.
I take up the rear with Kato, leaving a silent and vigilant Flynn to walk in front of Jocasta and Kaia. The princesses nod and wave to smiling merchants and shoppers as we weave our way through the agora toward the more exclusive shops at the top of the hill. I choose the same place we went to before the realm dinner so I can watch the young, handsome shopkeeper fawn all over Jocasta again and see how Flynn reacts.
His response is exactly what I thought it would be—quietly seething. Jocasta keeps her head high and appears not to notice Flynn hovering and glowering.
“You’ve mastered the princess thing,” I murmur behind a display of gowns. “Adoring populace. Surly, overprotective guard. You above it all.”
“Flynn’s not my guard.”
My eyebrows wing up at her prickly tone. “He is whenever we go out.”
“Which is twice in almost never.” Jocasta plows through the gowns, not even really looking. “And he only notices me when someone else does.”
Unfortunately, considering the shopkeeper’s obvious admiration and Flynn’s sudden grumpiness, it’s hard to argue with that.
“I’ve had enough.” Jocasta turns to me, her blue eyes blazing. “I’ve waited too long already. I’ll give him six more months. After that, I’m looking for a husband. Preferably one that looks just like him.”
My eyes widen. “Jocasta!”
She sighs, and her shoulders droop. “That was a joke.”
I frown. I don’t think it was a joke. “Why rush? You have plenty of time.”
She absently runs her fingers over a bolt of butter-yellow fabric. They snag on the delicate weave, and I take a closer look at her hand. There are calluses that weren’t there before.
“I’m old,” she finally says.
I snort. I can’t help it. “How old?” Apparently, it’s the question of the hour.
Day.
Yesterday.
Whatever.
“Twenty-four.”
I scoff. “You’re not old. We’re the same age.”
She gives me a pointed look. “As of today. And you’re getting married.”
“It’s not a race,” I say.
“I know.” She shakes her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just tired of waiting.”
“Then stop waiting and tell him how you feel.” My whisper is loud enough to turn Flynn’s head. Jocasta shushes me, her cheeks flaming.
Kato and Kaia don’t notice. She’s draped herself in ribbons and is trying to get Kato to tell her which color looks best. Since Kaia is gorgeous, has the kind of striking, dark coloring that goes well with anything, and would look pretty even in a grain sack, it’s a tough choice.
He scratches his chin, looking earnest and interested. Finally, he gathers up the entire lot of ribbons, wraps them around her waist, and then ties a crooked bow. “I can’t decide. You should take them all.”
Kaia turns bright pink. Poor Kaia. She should really fixate on someone her own age. I’ll have to take a closer look at the pages.
“I think he knows how I feel,” Jocasta says stiffly, drawing me back to her dilemma with Flynn. “He just doesn’t want to deal with it.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want things to change.”
She glances down, her voice softening. “Maybe he doesn’t feel the same.”
“Then he’s an idiot.” It feels disloyal saying that about Flynn. He’s almost always in my corner. “About you,” I add, qualifying my earlier statement.
Jocasta takes a deep breath. Her exhale is a little shaky.
A breeze carries moist air and a rumble of thunder through the wide-open window, stirring my unruly hair. It’s enough to make Jocasta shiver, and the merchant rushes over with a delicate, expensive-looking shawl. He wraps it around her shoulders, earning a glare from Flynn that has him swiftly backing away again.
I look Jocasta up and down, smothering a laugh. “That shawl is an excellent match for your tunic and pants.”
Jocasta smiles faintly, not missing the irony in my voice. “It’s better than Kaia—dressed like a boy but covered in bows.”
I glance at Kaia. With her narrow hips and only budding curves, her body is still relatively straight, the effort of growth having gone into height so far rather than softness. If she put her long hair up under a cap and kept her delicate-boned face down, she could probably pass for a boy.
Jocasta, on the other hand, has a figure a lot like mine used to be before all the running around, fighting, and nearly dying—lush, with a little extra just where men seem to like it. She fills out her fitted tunic and thigh-hugging pants in a way even I notice, so it’s no wonder Flynn is pretending to find the display of gold buckles halfway across the shop so utterly fascinating.
“I like boots, at least for going outside. They’re better suited to the rainy season.” Jocasta pulls out a light-blue gown, holds it up to me, and then puts it back.
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