by Ruby Dixon
And yet I wasn’t. I was taken directly to Riekki’s temple and left here to dwell in peace. Alistair, who never showed mercy or kindness to his foes, let his rival’s heir go free. It didn’t make sense. “I don’t recall, I’m afraid.”
“I told you I would keep you safe. That I would protect you because you belonged to me. Remember?”
I do remember that, strangely enough. My mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “I recall thinking you were a strangely possessive boy, yes. I’m glad we were friends.”
Mathior’s gaze is strangely intense as he toys with the end of my braid. “Did you think I jested, then?”
I gaze up at him, speechless. I’m having a hard time concentrating because of his nearness. He smells of sweat and horse and fresh air, and instead of that being appalling, it makes me long for the world outside. I like his scent. I know I should be thinking of other things than how he smells, but my goodness, when he stands this close, it’s hard to think of anything but his presence. “I thought you were keeping me safe,” I stammer. “As I kept you safe.”
“I meant what I said. You belonged to me, even then. I’ve come to claim you.”
4
HALLA
I stare at him in shock. The book tumbles from my grip and falls onto the floor, and still I cannot move.
“What do you mean?” I whisper. I can feel my cheeks turning scarlet even as fear tumbles through my belly. He’s come to claim me. That can mean any number of things, given that the cyclops have so many different customs than my people. Perhaps he means that he will parade me through the streets in chains to show that I am subdued. After all, my father’s father did such a thing with his enemies. But even as I speculate, I think of him touching my braid and my mind goes to…other things.
Like the picture in the book.
I’ve come to claim you.
Heat flutters in my belly. You silly spinster, I tell myself. Don’t be like this. He is your enemy. You’re his prisoner.
As I watch, Mathior leans over and picks up my book. He studies the cover and my heart slams in my throat. “Riekki’s prayers?” He watches me carefully. “Have you taken up the vows of peace, then?”
Have I joined the temple’s guardians? “No, not at all.”
“Yet you read the prayers?” He gazes at the cover, and then opens the book, flipping through the pages.
And stops.
A slow smile curves his mouth as he gazes down at the drawing on the page.
Hot embarrassment scorches through me. I want to snatch the offending book out of his grip and toss it under my bunk, never to be seen again.
Mathior flicks a sly glance up at me. “I admit I’ve never followed Riekki’s priesthood too closely, but I do not recall such things in my prayers.”
I snatch the book away from him and clutch it to my breast. I don’t want to know which picture he was looking at. I can imagine all kinds of embarrassments. “Tell me why you are here. Tell me what you want.”
He laughs. “Can you not guess, lovely Halla?”
“Why you are here? Of course not.” I hide behind my regal demeanor, even though my cheeks are flushed and my heart is pounding. “If you have not come to murder me and assure your claim on the throne, I don’t know why you are here.”
“I told you what I want.”
Did I miss it somehow? “What?”
“You.” The look he gives me is scorching.
Yet again, I am speechless. “King Mathior—”
“Call me Mathior. There is no need for titles between us.”
I take a steeling breath and hold the book tighter. I’m no longer terrified; now I’m just confused. “You have my mind going in circles. I don’t know what to think. I thought you were here…I thought…” I can’t quite say the words.
“That I was here to destroy my rivals?” His mouth twists slightly. “It has been a long time since we have seen each other, but I have never thought unkindly of you. And I would never go back on my word.”
You’re safe because you’re mine.
“You were a boy,” I protest. “I don’t expect—”
“My mind has not changed,” he says, and his expression is so intense it steals the breath from my lungs. When he reaches out to capture my braid again, I tremble. “You’re shaking. Sit.”
A strong arm goes around my waist and he escorts me to the nearest bench. Of course, my knees get even weaker with his nearness, but I manage to sit down with a modicum of grace. I set the book carefully at my side—away from him—and straighten my ugly gray robe, wishing that it was one of the corseted, ornate Yshremi dresses I used to wear. Not because I loved them, but because they always made me feel regal and in control.
Mathior sits down next to me and studies my face. “I see my suggestion has shocked you.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell him in a low voice. “Why—”
He raises a hand to quiet me. “You and I both know that there will never be peace in this kingdom while you live and I am on the throne.”
My mouth goes dry again. I do know this. That’s exactly why I thought he’d come here to kill me. “So your solution is to…take me as your concubine?” While I’m flattered at the suggestion, I don’t see how it’ll possibly work. The Yshremi people will be insulted that their once-queen has been pulled from exile at a peaceful temple to serve in the cyclops lord’s bed. And as for me…well, I’m past the age that is considered young and nubile. I am thirty-three years. I should have been married when I was sixteen. No one wants a concubine that found her first gray hair yesterday, or whose breasts aren’t quite as high and perky as they once were.
“My concubine? No. I mean to take you as my bride.” And he stares at me so intently that I feel naked despite the gray wool of my robe. “Yshrem needs unity. What better way than to unite our two families? Such alliances are common, are they not?”
Between neighboring kingdoms, yes. Between conquered kingdom and conqueror, no. Between the wild cyclops tribes and my own rigid Yshremi people? Never. “You would do that to save my life?”
That slow, heart-stopping grin moves over his face again. “You mistake me yet again, Halla. I do not do this to save your life. I do this because you have always been destined to be mine.” Mathior takes my hand in his and turns it over, then lifts it to his mouth. His tongue flicks over the center of my palm before he gives it a kiss. “I mean what I said. You are mine, Halla. I am king and I get what I want, and what I want is you. Yshrem can burn for all I care. Ask me to destroy it and I shall. Ask me to give it to you, and it will be yours…so long as you are in my bed.”
The breath catches in my throat. “You…you want me?”
“Always.” He brushes his mouth over the tips of my fingers. “Shall I show you how much?”
I am like a deer caught before the hunter. I cannot move, cannot protest…because I do not want to. I want him to show me exactly what he means, even though I know I should not. Just a short time ago I expected him to cut my throat. How can my world turn upside down so very quickly that I’m contemplating marriage? “But—”
Mathior snags one of my braids. The chosen hairstyle for Riekki’s peacekeepers is two simple braids parted down the center of the head with one thick braid in the back. It’s not an attractive hairstyle, but attractiveness doesn’t matter when you are a deposed queen and spinster. But when he tugs on it and pulls me toward him, I feel pretty and irresistible. I feel his breath on my cheek a moment before his mouth closes over mine in a kiss.
I gasp and jerk backward, my eyes wide. The braid falls from his grip and I hold it tight against my collar, startled. I’ve never been kissed before. No one would dare to do such a thing without a royal engagement. Yet Mathior has been here for five minutes and already kissed me. I’m shocked…and fascinated.
This is as far from the quiet life in Riekki’s temple as one can get.
The cyclops just grins at me, as if pleased by my shocked reaction. “Do I take liberties, Halla? I
won’t apologize.”
“You can’t take liberties,” I tell him in a daze. “You are the king. Everything in the kingdom belongs to you, including me.”
He grunts, apparently not pleased with my response. “You still have a choice. I would not leave you trapped in a situation you despise. I remember well how you saved my life, and I would not destroy yours. If you wish to stay here and live with Riekki’s peacekeepers, you may. But you will have to take a new name. Word will be spread far and wide of Halla of Yshrem’s unfortunate death to a coughing sickness. You will simply become one of the penitent, living your life in servitude to the goddess. If that is what you wish, I will not stand in your way.” Mathior leans in and pulls my other braid into his hand, caressing it. “But if you wish to become mine, you should know of the cyclops marriage customs, because that is how we shall be wedded.”
“Oh?” My voice is shaky, my head spinning. He’s so close that I wonder if he’s going to kiss me again. There’s a heat throbbing between my thighs that I’ve only felt when I was alone and giving myself furtive, forbidden touches. I want his mouth on me again, no matter how impudent a gesture it was. “Tell me.”
“My people’s marriage ceremonies take place over three days.”
That doesn’t sound so bad. Yshremi unions can be long-winded and take hours, depending on how many priests of the different gods are involved. Every wedding has feasting and dancing, and if there is a union of two kingdoms, celebrations can go on for weeks as guests stream in to the city. I expected such things of my own wedding. “Three days,” I echo. “Very well.”
“The first day is the Revealing of the Bride to the groom. You will be presented in front of me and your clothing torn from your body. You will be displayed to all of those present so no flaws or defects can be hidden under clothing.”
My eyes go wide. Stripped naked before court? It sounds like my worst nightmare. This is their wedding custom?
“On the second day of the ceremony, there is the Tasting of the Bride. You will be chaperoned so there is a witness that you find my caresses pleasing.”
I frown at him, because I don’t understand what he’s saying. “Chaperoned for kissing?”
A wicked smile curves his mouth. “I said tasting, lovely Halla. My head will be between your thighs and I will taste you and you can determine if I am skilled enough to be your husband.”
I swallow hard, utterly shocked, and I think of the picture in my book. Heat is flushing through my body again. By all the gods. I struggle to find something to say, and eventually reply with, “Oh. Well…well.” My voice dies and I clear my throat. “And day three?”
“The Claiming of the Bride. I will take you as mine on that night.” His gaze is heated. “Think on what I offer you. If you marry me, you must accept my people’s ceremonies. To do otherwise would only fuel concerns that you are marrying me against your will. Make no mistake, I want you—but Yshrem needs peace.” He gets to his feet before I can say anything. “I will return in the morning for your answer.”
I stare blankly as he and his men stride out of the courtyard.
5
HALLA
The Cyclopae wedding sounds utterly shocking.
I can’t stop thinking about it as I lie in my pallet that night. Truth be told, I haven’t been able to think of anything but Mathior since he left my side. I never expected to see him again. I certainly did not expect to see him as a grown man, savage and untamed, with a wicked grin that makes my pulse flutter.
He wants to marry me.
Not just because of Yshrem. Because he says he wants me. That he has always wanted me. I’m not sure what to think. I clutch my scratchy blankets to my chest and try to imagine what this means. If I choose to stay here in Riekki’s temple, amongst her devoted, he will ensure that I am safe. I will give up my name, my past, my self entirely, and become just another temple devotee. I will live the rest of my days surrounded in gray.
Truly, it is not such a bad thing, I reason. Riekki’s people have been kind.
But it is not me. I do not fit in here. Just because I have lived here peacefully for sixteen years does not mean I belong. I am not called to serve the goddess, and I feel like a pretender when I see the avid devotion on the faces of those around me.
Can I marry a cyclops warrior, though? I think of Mathior and the fearsome-looking eyepatch that covered half his face. I think of his fur cloak over his naked chest, and the weapons he wore strapped to his body. He is tall now, no longer a small boy. His body is graceful and lean, but corded with muscle. Any woman would be proud to call such a man hers. He’s noble despite his wildness, and if the man is half as thoughtful as the boy, he will be a fine king.
And I am…old.
Thirty-three is not so old, not truly. But as far as virginal brides go, I am ancient. I am a spinster that should have been married off when I was young and fresh and had a throne to bring to my husband. Now I am no one and I have nothing to call my own save my face. Even the gray gown I wear belongs to the temple.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I have a stash of dirty books.
I flush in the dark, thinking of Mathior’s expression as he picked up the book and saw the drawing. He didn’t look scandalized. He looked…interested. Intrigued. Aroused.
My breath quickens in my throat, and my hand steals under the blankets. I have the sudden urge to touch myself between my thighs, to rub that forbidden spot and feel my body tense up until I cannot stand it any longer. I imagine him as the picture, putting his tongue between my thighs and licking me, and a low groan escapes my throat.
Horrified, I clap a hand over my mouth and go silent, hoping that those sleeping in the nearby cells did not hear such a thing. No one gets up to check on me, though, and I relax.
I feel guilty, though. I should be thinking about Yshrem, about how I can benefit my people by being the wife of the king—no matter who the king is. I can bring about change if I have my husband’s ear. Instead, all I am thinking about is what it would be like to kiss him, what it would be like for him to put his tongue in secret places.
Truly, I am a terrible person.
I worry, too. I can’t sleep because when I close my eyes, I worry about the answer I will give in the morning. I want to say yes. Even if I found Mathior repulsive, I can do more to help my people as the wife to the king than simply hiding away in Riekki’s temple for the rest of my days. But I am older than him. He is in his prime and must be all of twenty-four years now. I will be thirty-three in a month’s time. He should get himself a bride that is young and sweet and will bring him an alliance. Instead, if I agree to marry him, he will be getting an older woman who has nothing but a useless family name and breasts that have not yet started to sag, but will soon enough.
He can do better. I know I have a pleasing face and I am well-versed in courtly manners, but so are a dozen other princesses half my age that would be thrilled to have such a handsome man as their husband. It does not matter that he is cyclops. Their ways are strange, but they are a strong tribe and devoted to the gods. There are worse choices to make, in my eyes.
I want to say yes…but I am terrified of what happens next. For the first time in sixteen years, I will leave the walls of Riekki’s quiet temple and re-enter the world as Princess Halla of Yshrem. I will be betrothed to the man who conquered my kingdom and whose father killed my father on the field of battle. I will return with him to Yshrem, and then we will begin the marriage ceremony.
Three days, he said. Three ceremonies.
The Revealing of the Bride, where I will be stripped naked before the entire court. I break out into a cold sweat at the very thought. Even if I were in my prime marriageable years, I would be horrified at the thought. But it is a tradition, and it does not sound like Mathior will bend on such a request.
Of course, then there will be the Tasting of the Bride, which makes me even more nervous. He will put his mouth on me in front of a witness. I cannot imagine the reasoning behind such
a thing, but I am both titillated and terrified of that.
The marriage bed itself almost seems like an afterthought. If I can get through day one and two of the wedding ceremony without fleeing, surely joining with my new husband will be a simple task.
Simple. Ha.
6
MATHIOR
When I return to the temple the next morning, I am as jittery as an unblooded warrior awaiting his first battle. Last night, I was certain that Halla would say yes to my demands. That no matter how she felt about me, she would give herself in marriage for Yshrem. But as the morning dawned, my certainty disappeared. Halla has never let anyone push her into anything. Even when her life was at stake, she remained firm and steadfast. It’s one of the things I like so much about her.
If she does not wish to marry me, there is nothing I can say or do to convince her. I am king, of course. First Warrior of all the cyclops tribes and ruler of Yshrem and Alassia. If I demanded it, she would not be able to turn me down. But I want her in my bed of her own free will, not because I have forced her there. I do not mind a shy bride.
I am no rapist to force a woman to my bed, though. If she says no, it will be no. No matter how badly I want her.
And I do want her quite badly.
Sixteen years had passed since I saw her last. I wondered if she had grown old and withered, or if my child’s mind had made her out to be more graceful and beautiful than she truly was. Even the drab clothing and braids of Riekki’s peacekeepers could not hide her loveliness, though. She is just as I remembered—her face a beautiful oval dominated by wide, long-lashed eyes and a full pink mouth. Her body is more womanly than I remember, her breasts straining against the fabric of the gray robe. Her face is unlined and sweet, and she looks as untouched as she was over sixteen years ago.
