The Mating Ritual: Werewolves of Montana Book 9

by Bonnie Vanak

  4

  If the goddess desired to toy with him as a cat swatted a mouse, he would not give her the satisfaction of anger.

  Or any other emotion.

  Especially today, his wedding day. Or rather, the wedding Danu thought to arrange. He did not like the games the goddess played.

  At the gazebo, Gideon climbed the steps and steeled his spine. Danu sat on the wooden railing, cooing to a dove that landed on her outstretched hand.

  Even though he had served her for more than a thousand years and knew her whims, he also knew Danu was unpredictable.

  “Gideon.” Danu regarded him with a steady gaze. “You did not like my singing.”

  “Not the voice, but the choice of song. Is it the only one you know by heart or did you wish to torment me in addition to taking away my powers? You know my undying affection and feelings for Eleanor. Must you remind me of my loss on this wedding day?”

  “I am not cruel, Gideon.” Danu’s gaze remained steady. “I have a higher purpose for your song. As well as your wedding. I know your true heart.”

  A humorless smile touched his mouth. In all his years of serving the goddess, he never minced words with her. She often told him she enjoyed his honesty and found it refreshing. She would not find it so today.

  “I have no heart. It died with Eleanor.” He folded his arms. “Why that song, on this day?”

  Danu did not smile. “Let us say it is a song you needed to hear, as did your bride.”

  “Why?”

  “All will made itself known in time, my dear Gideon.”

  “You could crush me, drain my immortality and cast me into shadow. Instead, you chose to bind me into a marriage. For the sake of reviving my cold, dead heart?”

  Danu stroked the bird’s feathers and the creature cooed. “You have grown too accustomed to your powers, my wizard. Next to Caderyn, you are the strongest wizard of the Brehon. Unlike Caderyn, you rely on your magick. It is time you begin to use your many other skills.”

  Gideon inclined his head. The goddess could strip the flesh from his bones or grant him a boon as sweet as honey. “My other skills. Are you referring to my talent at lovemaking?

  Danu laughed, a sound as sweet and clear as wind chime. “Alia will benefit from that particular skill. She is the perfect mate for you.”

  He snorted. “Here, as a Fae, perhaps. But when I assume my duties once more as Crimson Wizard? She cannot live with me in Tir na-Nog. Only immortals—and the dead—reside there.”

  “What are your plans for your mate once you serve your punishment and I restore your duties?” she asked.

  Plans? His temper flared. “I was thrown into a dark cell, barely any time to consider plans, my lady. When will you drop your glamour masking my true identity? Perhaps that will be the time for me to plan the future. Next time, you should plan better.”

  The bird flew off her hand. Without warning, Danu flicked a finger and a stinging bolt of pure white energy seared his insides. Gideon gritted his teeth against the burn.

  It faded a minute later.

  “Do not provoke me again, Gideon,” she warned.

  He drew in a deep breath. “I apologize for offending you.”

  Danu gave a little nod. “The glamour I cast over both kingdoms will hold fast until the time comes for you to reveal your real self.”

  “How did you arrange it so they think I am the king’s youngest son?”

  Raising an elegant eyebrow, the goddess gave him a slight smile. “Gideon, such magick is child’s play for me. But there will be those who feel for you so deeply that the glamour will never mask you. This is all you need to know.”

  Fair enough. Gideon laced his hands behind his back and paced the gazebo. “Alia will want for nothing. I will give her all my riches, let her live where she feels most comfortable, and appoint fairies to care for all her needs.”

  “She needs you.”

  “Once I regain my role as the Crimson Wizard, I will have little time to visit a mortal wife.”

  “You are so certain of your fate, Gideon. Of all my wizards, you are the most in need of true love. You refuse to surrender to it and yet you have so very much to give.”

  Stunned, he stepped back. “That’s a rather broad assumption.”

  “Not assumption, but fact. When you lost Lady Eleanor, you closed your heart to love. It is time you open it once more.”

  Feeling the icy edge of his anger rise again, he struggled against his rising temper. “I have no heart.”

  “You are quite wrong, my beloved Crimson Wizard. If that were true, I never would have accorded you the place among the Brehon. Nor would I have arranged this marriage.”

  “A marriage that is not fair to Lady Alia. She knows not who I am.”

  “But I know you and I know your capacity for love.”

  “Love is not as important as justice or hunting down the evil in this kingdom. There is a tremendous darkness residing here that could strip flesh away from bone. Would you have me ignore it over this love you wish me to experience?”

  “You are more than mere flesh, Gideon.” She touched his chest and a soothing warmth filled him. “But to deliver justice, you must become less. You have become cold, remote and forgotten the Fae you once were in your quest for pure justice for all Fae. You have forsaken your heart.”

  “I have always adhered to my duties. I love my people, and I died for them nearly a thousand years ago.”

  Danu dropped her hand. “Alia needs love as well. If you stop being so narrow-minded and open your heart once more, my wizard, you will find what you most desire.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I have desires, my lady. They are dark and wicked. Would you like to know the details of an Unseelie Fae mating ritual—the same I will perform with my bride?”

  “I know the ritual. There is a great purpose to it, for it binds together the married couple. It is not mere sex, no matter how much you believe you can participate in it and feel only the physical aspect, my wizard.”

  Rocking back on his booted heels, he shook his head. “I am more than fourteen hundred years old. Sex is sex, not love.”

  “Think hard, Gideon. Think not with that famous logic of yours, nor with your dark Fae power, but with your heart.”

  Danu stepped back and vanished.

  Married less than two hours and already her husband vanished on important business.

  Alia was glad of it. Abandoning her for business made it easier for her to harden her heart against Gideon. Emotional distance was best, and cultivating disdain for the Dark Fae from the Winter Kingdom would make killing him easier.

  She could not find it within her to assassinate a good man. By all accounts from what she’d been told by Silvia and other ladies in the court, all Dark Fae were ultimately evil at heart.

  While waiting for Gideon to return, she saw a tall, silver-haired Fae from the Summer Court approach her table. Dread raced down her spine. Once this man had bounced her on his knee when she was a babe, and taught her to enchant the bees so she could gather honeycomb, sweetened by the summer sun. He was the most powerful Fae in the kingdom next to the king.

  And possibly the only Fae she trusted, other than her mother and brother.

  Oren’s Lord of the Keep bowed low.

  “May I have the honor of a wedding dance, Lady Alia?”

  Alia left the head table and went to the dance floor with him. “Lord Ekim, a pleasure to see you again,” she murmured.

  As he swung her around in a fairy waltz, the thin-faced Fae frowned at her. “You must do the deed after the marriage is consummated. The longer you wait, the harder it will be, Alia.”

  “That will prove difficult. I need time to grow acquainted with my husband’s habits. I am most unfamiliar with his people’s wedding night traditions. I do not wish to make a mistake and put him on guard.”

  “I am counting on you.” He looked down, his thin mouth drawn tight. “The women in this kingdom are counting on you, Alia. If you fail to
kill the Winter King’s son, I cannot complete our end of the bargain. Oren keeps too close of a watch on the tower for me to free your sister.”

  Her heart pounded harder as she thought of Alyssa’s fate.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her new husband approach. Alia signaled Ekim with her eyes.

  “May I cut in?” Without waiting for an answer, Gideon stepped forward, drew Alia away from Lord Ekim.

  He was an expert dancer, smooth grace, and fluid moves. Well aware of his height and powerful body, Alia let her husband lead her. Her chin barely came to the top of his shoulder, so she stared at the velvet of his uniform, the piping around the high, tight collar.

  His erection pressed into her body. She could not ignore it. He had already displayed his male interest in her while they had been naked together in the cell. Surely he would not waste time in claiming his marital rights.

  When the dance ended, Gideon lifted her chin with a finger in a surprisingly gentle grip. “Do not fear me, Alia. I am not your enemy.”

  “Yes, my lord Gideon.”

  “I am your husband now. My name is Gideon.”

  Her heart pounded harder. “My husband in name only until the marriage is consummated this night.”

  Gideon escorted her over to the head table. When they resumed their seats, he spoke to her in a quiet voice. “Alia, do not fear me nor my people’s traditions for the wedding night. I promise I will make it as pleasurable as possible.”

  That is what I fear most.

  They began to eat again, and Alia sipped more wine. She drank sparingly, knowing it was not advisable to be tipsy. Courage never came in a bottle—it came from within.

  Odd how those words suddenly came to her, as if whispered from long ago.

  As more couples took to the dance floor and more wine was poured, Alia stood and to her surprise, Gideon rose as well, along with the ten men from the Winter Court. Men in her father’s kingdom never stood when a lady rose.

  “It is time to invoke the wedding day tradition of royal brides.” She addressed her father, not Gideon. “I am bringing baskets of cheer to the wilding Fae who live in the Mystic Forest.”

  Oren leaned back in his throne. “I abolished that tradition. There is no need to give them anything. They must earn food for themselves.”

  “And I desire to follow the tradition as my mother observed on her wedding day.”

  Never before had she defied her father so boldly, in public, before honored guests. Alia cared not. Legally she belonged to Gideon now. It was up to her groom to punish her as he saw fit, though the king could intervene.

  Oren’s face tightened with displeasure. “Alia, remember your place. You are a royal princess of my blood.”

  Her chin rose into the air. “I know my place, father. As a royal princess, it is to aid those who cannot help themselves. As my mother did until you banished her.”

  Red-faced, the king started to stand, glanced at Gideon. Oren hesitated.

  Alia understood. Oren might be a bully, but he would not show his true self in public before guests of the rival Winter Court.

  He looked at Gideon. “This tradition is up to your husband, Alia. It is his decision.”

  Her groom rested a hand upon her shoulder. “If this is what you desire, then so be it.”

  Soon they were standing by a wagon drawn by two fine steeds from the royal stable. Baskets of food, from fresh roasted lamb to fruit picked only this morning, filled the wagon.

  Gideon lifted her by the waist and placed her on the driver’s seat. Then he joined her. Expecting him to take up the reins, she was stunned when he handed them to her.

  Men did not like women driving in this kingdom. But he leaned back with a small smile. “I know not the way, and I assume you do.”

  With a light flick of the reins, they were off. Alia set the horses to a brisk trot, eager to clear the castle grounds before her father’s guards ran after her because Oren changed his mind.

  Not until they reached the road leading into the thick of the Mystic Forest did she relax slightly. A fairy with hair all the colors of the rainbow flew alongside them, the iridescent glow from her wings cutting through the gloom of the thick trees.

  The fairy landed on Alia’s shoulders and sat there, singing a happy song. Alia’s spirits lifted. Maybe she had been forced into marriage for politics, but these were her people and the fact that she could finally aid them fed her fresh hope.

  You still have to kill Gideon.

  Alia thought about it. Maybe she could find a way around it.

  They arrived at a small clearing, ringed by thick cedar trees soaring skyward. Lanterns swung from the overhead limbs, slicing through the thick gloom. A stream gurgled past several wooden shacks made from rotting tree limbs and patchwork cloth.

  Gideon stared at the hodgepodge of makeshift cottages. Slowly the inhabitants came out of their homes. At the sight of her, they smiled and a few clapped their chapped, worn hands.

  Most were Elven, ordinary Fae like herself and Gideon, but for the fact they had strains of Unseelie blood or hobgoblin or regular goblin mixed into their DNA. There were some of the trooping Fae who once lived in the Skin world who chose life in this forest over sharing space with humans. Even poverty and hunger was better for them than being among humans.

  Gideon helped her down from the cart after she pulled the horses to a complete stop. He swept all of the timid inhabitants with a long, thoughtful look.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “They are wilding Fae, not permitted on the grounds near the castle. Fae who have fallen far out of favor with the king, or Fae with mixed blood. My father says their mixed blood is abhorrent.”

  She wondered if he’d notice that many were single mothers, or elders too frail to work any longer.

  Alia searched the crowd. Not here today. Disappointment mingled with relief. Some family secrets were too precious to reveal.

  “A good king serves all the people in his land, not only the chosen few fortunate enough to be purebloods.” Gideon took a basket and handed it to a tall, almost skeletal Fae with iron gray hair. The Fae thanked Gideon and scurried inside with the treasure. Several sounds of delight followed.

  Alia took a smaller basket and slipped away as Gideon continued handing out provisions. She headed for a smaller shelter at the far end of the settlement, her footsteps light, her need urgent.

  The lopsided, round shack made from mud and sticks had a poorly thatched roof and a single, grimy window. Familiar anger and grief seized her by the throat. Once the woman who lived here had dined on plates of gold, and had apartments with silk furniture and a bed softer than a dove’s wing.

  With a trembling hand, she knocked. No answer. Brianna never came out when visitors came to the settlement. She was too ashamed.

  Alia opened the door. “Are you here? I have a wedding day feast for you.”

  Silence a moment. A hoarse voice that once had sung with such sweetness, she enchanted the fairies, filled the air. “I am. Please, put down the food inside the door and leave.”

  Tears touched her throat. Much as she longed to step inside and embrace Brianna, she respected her too much to go against her wishes. She set the basket inside the house and then closed the door. Alia flattened her palm upon the splintered wood.

  “Tá mo chroí istigh ionat,” she whispered. “My heart is with you, mama. I love you so much. Take good care of yourself.”

  Gideon gave her a questioning look when she returned, but she kept busy sorting through the supplies, making sure the weakest and the eldest had the choicest food.

  When they finished passing out the hampers and bottles of wine, a small hobgoblin child with a long, hooked nose, a noticeable under bite and sharp, pointed ears tugged on Gideon’s tunic. “Thank you, sir.”

  Gideon squatted down and touched the child’s thin cheek. “What is your name?”

  “Elvin, sir.” The child hugged Gideon.

  Alia held her breath, hopin
g Gideon would not turn away in disgust from Elvin’s dirt-stained and threadbare tunic, or the fact his feet were filthy. When her husband hugged him back, she released a small sigh of relief.

  These children had suffered enough without enduring disdain from a newcomer.

  Other Fae children gathered close, their eyes wide with curiosity about the new Fae who wore the dark colors of the Winter Court.

  Gideon sat on the ground, ignoring the fact he was dirtying his splendid uniform. “I’m Gideon. You don’t have to call me sir.”

  He reached into his pockets and brought forth a handful of spun sugar sweets. The children hung back.

  “It’s all right.” He popped one into his mouth. “They’re treats.”

  Each child took one and ate, their faces rapt with obvious enjoyment. Elvin, the boldest, sat close to Gideon.

  “Would you like a story?” Gideon asked them.

  At their eager nods, he began telling them about the great Oberon, the fierce warrior king of the Winter Court, who battled fire-breathing dragons to save his lady love.

  Alia sat on the dusty ground nearby, her heart turning over. It seemed her new husband had a soft spot for children.

  They should return to court, but she seldom made these visits anymore, and seeing these people gave her great pleasure. They had not the ennui of the foppish nobles of court, but were connected with the earth, and experienced few enjoyments in life. Seeing the fear leave their eyes as the adults also hovered close, enjoying Gideon’s tale, filled her with more joy than the pile of expensive wedding gifts awaiting them at their wedding suite.

  Gideon withdrew the jeweled dagger at his hip and showed the eager children the hilt. “And the dragon, in agreement for Oberon sparing his life, led the great Fae king to his treasure trove, where he gifted him a blade of gold, with rubies, diamonds and emeralds on the hilt. Like this.”

  He twirled the blade around in his hand to the oohs and ahhs of his delighted audience.

  When the last sweet had been consumed, Gideon stood. “Time to return to your parents, children.”