by Holly Bargo
The first mate retained his calm. “I long for a family and have the means to support one. I have plans to captain my own ship within a year, which will bring both wealth and prestige upon my family.”
“You are Maltani. Sin’halissar is human,” Uberon pointed out.
“Aye,” the male replied with a nod. “We Maltani are sufficiently fae to bind our souls. Her life will be tied to mine.”
“How old are you?”
“I am a bit over a century and have been sailing for most of that. My mate will have a long life.”
“You exile yourself by mating outside your own species.”
The Maltani nodded. “I know. I have but a distant cousin or two remaining on Maltan, and we were never close. I have no home there.”
“Why do you want to marry Sin’halissar?” Corinne inquired.
The Maltani sailor met her gaze and said in a quiet tone that rang of sincerity, “My heart beats only for her.”
“The Sea Hart is yours,” Uberon said. “Treat her and her crew well, and she will provide you and your family with a good life.”
The sailor’s eyes widened. “My lord! The Sea Hart belongs to Master Orifelgany.”
“Not any longer. She flies my banner. You shall also have his estate.”
Having an inkling of what just happened, Corinne asked, “What if Master Orifelgany attempts to take his ship back?”
“Then the crew will kill him.”
The door opened and Sin’halisssar ducked under Golsat’s heavy arm. Eyes widening with surprise and delight, she exclaimed, “Hibr!”
Uberon rose to his feet and Corinne followed suit. He said, “We shall give you a moment of privacy to discuss your plans.”
He walked across the room, Corinne tagging close behind. Exiting through another door and entering a different room, she asked, “Why didn’t you interrogate him further? How can you be sure he means to treat her well?”
She found herself backed against a wall, naked. Uberon lifted her, positioned her legs around his naked hips, and pressed his nose to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He inhaled of her scent and notched his erect and eager cock within her tender folds.
“Uberon.”
The Quoliálfur king licked her skin and growled low in his throat. Her core turned liquid with heat and desire.
“Uberon.”
“He said his heart beat only for her. No Maltani would state such unless he has found his heart’s mate,” he explained as he slowly pushed up into her body.
“Then he—?” she attempted to ask, but the words ended on a moan as Uberon filled her. She wound her hands up and around the strong column of his neck.
“Not like us. Never like us. Nothing is like us,” he declared as his hips pumped.
Corinne’s eyes rolled back as he thrust into her hard and fast, her body responding to the impromptu ravishing with heady pleasure. She moaned and melted into him, her mouth opening and yielding to his claim.
She did not know how long their fast and fierce coupling lasted, but she did know that Uberon had easily wrenched two orgasms from her before he released his own climax. He carried her to a chaise lounge where he deposited her, suddenly cleaned and clothed. However, her passion-befuddled brain hardly recognized his words when he promised to return after escorting Hibr from the castle.
Entering the room on bejeweled feet, Sin’hallisar sat on a chair beside the chaise lounge and whispered a grateful thank-you before asking, “Do you think I shall enjoy Hibr’s bed?”
Corinne summoned her scattered wits and responded, “I hope you will. If he harms you, you must inform me.”
The girl bestowed a soft, besotted smile upon her benefactress and said, “I do not think he will hurt me.”
“For what it’s worth—and that’s quite a lot, I should think—neither does Uberon.”
“Do you know the bride price his majesty will demand for me?”
Corinne shook her head. “No clue. I’m not even sure he’ll demand a bride price.”
“Of course, he will,” the girl scoffed with a gentle snort. “He paid my father gold and he will wish to recoup his loss and perhaps make a profit.”
“I don’t think Uberon’s all that interested in filthy lucre.”
“What?”
“Money.”
“Oh. You do have odd turns of phrase. Where are you from, my lady?”
“Nowhere you’ve ever heard of,” Corinne replied and averted her gaze to blink back sudden tears of homesickness.
“You miss your home?”
She nodded. “Desperately sometimes.”
“I do not miss mine,” Sin’halissar stated. “I am glad that his majesty purchased us and brought us here. Otherwise I should not have met Hibr. Father would have sold me to the first man who offered sufficient coin.”
Corinne said nothing.
The girl huffed a bitter laugh. “Actually, he did, and the gold did him no good.”
The two females lapsed into silence. After a long moment, Sin’halissar asked, “Will you tell me about your home?”
Glad to have the opportunity to reminisce and refresh her childhood home and her family in her mind, Corinne obliged.
Sin’halissar laughed. “Fluffy white crystals falling from the clouds? Surely this cannot be true?”
“Oh, snow can be beautiful. It’s trite to say so, but it really covers everything like a blanket. When the sun shines after a snowfall, the snow sparkles like millions and millions of tiny diamonds.”
“It sounds glorious.”
“It doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon it turns gray and brown with dirt and then it’s just a nasty, icy mush. I don’t much like the cold anyway.”
“Please describe this cold to me. What is it like?”
Corinne thought for a moment how she would describe cold, wintry weather to someone who had only known tropical heat. “Have you ever put her hand in water so cold that you could not stand it for long?”
“A merchant once brought ice packed in sawdust. Father allowed us to sample some from a block before he sold the rest. My teeth chattered!”
“Think of that cold and make it even colder.”
“Surely, that is not possible?”
“It’s very possible. Anyway, think of a cold so cold that it burns your skin. In order to protect yourself when going outside, you must wear layers of heavy clothes and boots.”
“Even the women?”
“Even the women.”
Sin’halissar shook her head and smiled. “You come from a very strange land. I am glad his majesty claimed you and brought you here.”
“You have no idea.”
“Your Majesty?” rumbled the major domo’s deep voice as he opened the door. “His majesty bade me escort you to dine with him.” The gargoyle nodded at the betrothed girl. “Your sisters await you, miss.” His eyes twinkled within the cool stone of his craggy face. “I think his majesty would appreciate the rescue.”
Corinne chuckled and jumped from the chaise lounge, every step reminding her of the passionate interlude not long before. Sin’halissar followed close behind and muttered about the cold stone beneath her bare soles. Corinne reached out to brush her fingers along the stone wall.
“Will you warm the stone beneath the girls’ feet until they have been properly shod?” she whispered in the fae High Tongue Uberon had implanted into her mind.
A gasp followed by a small sigh of relief soon announced the results of her request.
“Thank you,” Corinne whispered into the air and felt a cool current curl around her and brush her cheek before dissolving.
“You meet the castle’s approval,” Golsat rumbled.
“I do?” Corinne wondered if the castle spoke to him, too.
“Stone speaks to stone, my lady,” he answered her unspoken question. “The castle shelters all who live within it and it notes those who also give shelter.”
She mulled over the odd turn of phrase and decided that the castle
apparently liked people who cared for other people. She raised her hand again to let her fingertips slide over the stone walls in silent benediction.
The gargoyle paused beside a door and opened it. “Ladies.”
Corinne and Sin’halissar passed through, Golsat following behind. The younger woman’s sisters clustered at one end of a long table where Uberon sat, chattering like a flock of birds. He looked up at their arrival and smiled with obvious relief. Corinne giggled, seeing the cold and mighty fae king disconcerted by a bevy of human girls. Sin’halissar rushed to sit next to the nearest sister and whispered loudly, “Lady Corinne made the stone heat beneath my feet!”
“Did she use a spell?” Han’al, the youngest of the human girls, inquired.
“No, she asked the castle to make your sister more comfortable,” Golsat replied as he smoothed the girl’s hair away from her face.
What the hell’s he doing touching her? She’s just a child!
She is his mate. He recognized her when she stepped foot within the castle.
She’s not anyone’s mate. She’s only eleven.
Servants approached with platters of food and began serving portions.
He will wait until she comes of age to claim her.
And if she doesn’t want to be claimed?
She will. Her heart bonds with him already.
How is that supposed to work? He’s … he’s made of stone!
Gargoyles shift to flesh to mate.
I … I … no, I think I don’t want to know. He won’t hurt her, will he? Corinne shook her head at a servant’s offer of some sort of mashed vegetable concoction that smelled sour.
Even I would think twice about hurting anything under a gargoyle’s protection. Nothing will harm that girl as long as Golsat lives.
Er … how long will he live?
I believe the indigenous peoples of your homeland have a saying: only the rocks and the wind live forever. Uberon took a sip of his wine.
And Han’al? Corinne took a bite of a gamey meat and wondered if she ought to have a word with the chef about soaking wild game in milk to tame the strong flavor. Then she remembered the lack of cattle and wondered if soaking in goat’s milk would have the same effect.
She will … transform.
Like me?
Similar.
Corinne swallowed, took a sip from her goblet, and suddenly craved a sweet iced tea. With lemon. I don’t like that she has no choice.
She never expected a choice, he reminded her.
The girls continued to chatter about the luxury of their accommodations, the promise of a seamstress to sew new clothing for them, and the tutor Golsat had hired. Corinne glanced at the gargoyle and wondered when he had time to hire a tutor for the girls. Then she wondered why he had done so, because the girls had shown little interest in acquiring an education. Had Uberon ordered it?
Golsat would prefer his mate educated, and he cannot accomplish that without extending the same opportunity to her sisters, too.
Corinne nodded her approval, pleased with the girls’ apparent acceptance of an education. She hadn’t really looked forward to trying to teach the girls when she knew so little about their world herself.
The Merogis daughters discussed their oldest sister’s impending nuptials, what to wear for a Maltani mating ceremony, and whether Sin’halissar would live aboard the new captain’s ship or whether she would remain on dry land.
“I would sail with Hibr,” she answered with a shy blush. “At least until the children come.”
Uberon made no pronouncement, but Corinne guessed he’d have a word with Hibr and strongly recommend that the Maltani bring his mate aboard with him.
With the oldest sister’s future settled, the next sister speculated about her prospects and bemoaned her lack of acquaintances. Amid the clink of silverware against fine porcelain, she theorized that, if King Uberon were not going to claim her himself and allow her the choice of a husband, then she needed to meet people.
“And you shall,” he reassured her. “After you have a new wardrobe.”
“But how, Your Majesty?”
Uberon pinched the bridge of his nose and then gave the girl a pained smile. “I shall hold a ball.”
“A ball?” the girls echoed in confusion.
“A ball!” Corinne exclaimed with amazement. But you …
I detest balls. But they work well for introducing young ladies to eligible gentlemen.
Will we have to hire a dancing master?
Fuck. He sighed. Yes.
“Do you know how to dance, Uberon?” Corinne asked.
“Any dances I remember have been lost to history,” he admitted. Turning to Golsat, he said, “Send word and hire a dancing master and we’ll need musicians, too, who know the latest tunes.”
Golsat nodded. “And whom shall you invite, my lord?”
“The respectable, unmated and unmarried males of Quoliálfur.” Uberon paused, recalling that his kingdom had few such worthy individuals. His face took on a pained expression. “Then, if the girls who are of marriageable age do not find their mates, we shall hold another ball and invite eligible males from abroad. We shall do this once a year until all the girls are settled.”
Corinne’s eyes widened at this peremptory change in her plans.
Your plans are not their plans, beloved. You want them to have choice and they choose a traditional future.
She bowed her head and accepted the truth of his reminder.
CHAPTER 19
Preparation for the ball took months. Invitations were written and sent to their destinations on outbound ships and then overland to individual recipients. Time passed while responses slowly traveled to Quoliálfur, with more than expected accepting the opportunity to form an alliance with the reclusive fae king. Responses indicated estimated arrival dates, which required additional time to allow for the transportation of suitors and their entourages. Corinne put those long months of waiting to good use, ordering wardrobes sewn for the girls and hiring tutors to educate them.
Corinne continued serving as the court scribe in the mornings and working on arranging the ball in the afternoons. Uberon gladly dumped the planning into her lap and assigned Golsat to assist. The hulking gargoyle kept a watchful eye on all the girls, especially the youngest sister, only reluctantly leaving her in the care of the tutors he and Corinne hired to teach the girls mathematics, history, science, geography, reading, writing, and dancing. Corinne attended the lessons, too, stating that being new to this world she needed to learn as much as she could about it.
Uberon, however, refused to allow the dancing master to instruct his mate personally, which resulted in him taking dancing lessons, too. The instructor flinched every time that silver gaze landed on him, especially after his handsome, flirtatious assistant ignored the king’s warning to keep his wandering hands to himself and palmed one girl’s ass. The resulting withered claw covered in scaly black hide functioned perfectly well, but drew shudders of horror and distaste.
“A woman will never accept him with that—that—deformity,” the dancing master complained on behalf of his traumatized assistant.
“Then he shouldn’t have groped my ward,” Corinne replied.
When he pronounced the king, queen, and her ladies-in-waiting, as he termed them, proficient in the latest dances, he took his leave from Quoliálfur with a casket of gold and a personal vow never to return.
The other tutors learned from that young man’s mishap and adjusted their instructional techniques to avoid rapping knuckles for impertinent behavior or addressing the girls with any disrespect whatsoever. The very concept of correcting errors in the queen’s work made them tremble with fear despite the queen’s reassurance that she expected such correction.
“They’re terrified of you,” she complained at dinner.
“Good.” He lifted his goblet and drank.
The five sisters, however, quickly lost their fear of Uberon, especially once they understood they were under
his protection, not being held for his exploitation. They teased him, joked about him, pestered him, and frequently sent him stalking from the room pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering dire imprecations about ill-bred, impertinent girls. Corinne just laughed, knowing he would not harm them for all their silliness. She enjoyed seeing them bloom as much as she enjoyed watching the formidable male turn indulgent and avuncular in their presence. She knew he’d never admit to having developed a fondness for the human girls.
Amid the arrival and departure and service of tutors and instructors, the seamstress arrived, accompanied by six assistants and a dozen trunks filled with bolts of fabric and buttery soft leathers, and muttering about the filthy, humid heat and the filthy tropical insects and the filthy, lustful sailors who pressed their dishonorable attentions upon the innocent young women in her charge. Uberon leaned down and whispered in Corinne’s ear, “The blonde is pregnant.”
“How do you know that?” she whispered back.
“I can smell it on her.”
Her eyes widened. “No? Really?”
He gave her that faint little smile that never failed to arouse her and replied, “Perhaps.”
Her expression twisted with annoyance. “I’m not stupid, Uberon. Tell me.”
He held his mysterious little smile and said nothing.
“I’ll fake my orgasms,” she threatened.
“No, you won’t,” he whispered and nuzzled her neck.
She shivered.
The five sisters giggled and whispered as the seamstress draped fabrics over them and sketched designs that made the best of their figures. Uberon did not allow either her or her assistants to ply their trade upon his mate. He insisted upon creating gowns in exquisite fabrics and elegant designs that showcased Corinne’s exotic coloring and the soul bond’s manifestation of silver and black diamonds.
The seamstress and her assistants measured, cut, and sewed with focused diligence, creating entire wardrobes for the five girls and those few respectable women who would attend the ball in company with their courtier spouses.
Finally, a few weeks before the ball, guests began to arrive from most of the kingdoms receiving invitations. After morning audiences, Uberon retreated to the recesses of his castle to avoid them. Golsat stepped in and assigned guards, which included two more gargoyles who kept alert, stony gazes as cold and hard as granite upon the goings-on within the castle. One of them accompanied Corinne at all times, even standing guard over her during morning audiences.
