She looked up at him, blatantly bewildered. "Vuthron? But you've never mentioned that Dorvek has any disagreement with the blood-drinkers?"
"We don't," Gorren confirmed. "We're marching as allies of Felthiss."
Elthrinn was quiet for a long while. When she spoke, it was little more than a murmur. "He told me that our marriage would buy him that alliance, but not why he needed it."
Gorren did not need clarification to know that she was talking about Erkas. "He needs the wolves at his back to have any chance of winning."
"But he can't win." Elthrinn may not have been taught much about the history or culture of Dorvek, but evidently she had learned about the peculiarities of Vuthron, and its royal line, particularly their ability to raise armies of the dead, no matter how long the bodies had been interred in the earth, or what their heritage or allegiance had been when they were alive.
"He might. We're not so easy to kill."
"But the normal men are, the Felthissian men are, my brother is."
"From the stories I hear, your brother is not so easy to kill, either." Gorren was only partly joking; the legends about General Jorrell were so outrageous he could not believe that they were entirely true.
"He's not half-wolf, though."
Now it was Gorren's turn to halt his steps. He was offended, but he tried to moderate his tone. He knew Elthrinn hadn't meant to insult him. "Neither am I."
She had stopped walking half a step after him. She turned now to face him with confusion in her eyes.
"When I'm a wolf, I'm fully a wolf, even in my half-form. I am what I am, Elthrinn. I'm a man when I'm a man, and a wolf when I'm a wolf, regardless of the details of the shape."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause offense."
"And none was taken, but I want you to be certain about who it is that you're to be married to."
Elthrinn nodded. A blush was colouring her pale cheeks. Gorren started walking again before he reached out to cup her flushed face in his palm. They continued for several steps in silence, but Gorren felt no easier than he had before. If he was to march from home by Degved, he would miss being able to spend Dythegg with Elthrinn. He didn't think for one moment that the war would be over in two moons. At least he hoped it wouldn't be; such a swift result would not be beneficial for the Dorvern and Felthissian armies. If he was not going to be able to spend Dythegg with Elthrinn, there was something he needed to show her.
"Elthrinn, do you want to see my wolf? I feel you should, before we're married."
She stopped walking. This time it was Gorren who had to turn to face her. Those inquisitive eyes were wide, there was a hint of fear, but she nodded in agreement.
"I don't want to scare you." His sole reason for not suggesting it before was that he hadn't wanted to see her run screaming, but he hoped, by showing her his other form now, that he could instil some confidence in her of his ability to survive the coming war. And there, that look in her eyes, that burgeoning trust, was why he believed that he could transition before her now. He wasn't sure he deserved her faith yet, he might not ever deserve it, but he would endeavour to earn it every day of his life.
Elthrinn shook her head. "You won't scare me. I know you won't."
Gorren realised that he hadn't thought through the practicalities of his suggestion fully. He looked about them, but they were at the edge of the water. There were no large boulders nearby, and the tree line was some distance away. There was no cover to save Elthrinn any discomfort. "I'll have to undress to be able to change."
It took Elthrinn a couple of moments to fully realise his implication. "Oh. Oh... I'll turn my back."
She really did glow when she blushed. She ducked her head, and turned in place. Gorren could no longer see her shy embarrassment, only the back of his own cloak. He took a deep breath of the cold air to quell his rebellious body, and began to strip. As his shirt was still floating to the ground he began to change.
During the time that his body was reshaping itself, he did not take his eyes from Elthrinn, no matter how his bones and muscles twisted. He didn't miss the moment that she almost let her curiosity get the better of her. Her head began to turn, her attention drawn by the heavy breathing, and wet pops of his joints. Gorren grunted, the only sound he could make, and she whipped her head away again.
The change completed, he dropped onto four paws. Elthrinn, hearing the crunch of the shale, and his huff of breath, chanced a glance to the side, but she only turned fully when he gave a short yip. She had known what was going to happen, but she still seemed a little non plussed to find an actual wolf in front of her rather than a man. She didn't move at first; she was frozen to the spot. Gorren could hear, could feel, the frantic thump of her heart.
"You're so big."
Gorren chuffed. His canine vocal chords could not mimic human speech.
"May I?" She was holding a hand out tentatively. Her heart rate brought his hunting instincts to the fore, her fear indicated prey, but as she edged closer, her own inimitable scent filled his nose. To his wolven form, Elthrinn smelt like the very furthest thing from prey.
She'd pulled her leather riding glove off. When she reached him she held her hand out, palm upwards, for him to sniff. He did so, a signal that he gave permission for her request. Emboldened, Elthrinn buried those slender fingers in the thick fur behind his ears.
"So soft," Elthrinn whispered.
Gorren knew that his fur was soft, but that it was also more dense than it looked. Still, Elthrinn managed to find the skin behind his ear. She scratched and tickled, as one might a dog, but Gorren wasn't insulted by that. It seemed a natural reaction to seeing him in this form, and it felt sublime. He sat, which encouraged her to step right up to him, and lean her body against his shoulder.
If he'd been in human form, his cock would have been as stiff as iron. As it was, he was fighting the urge to lie down, roll over, and beg her to rub his belly. Doing so might have unfortunate consequences, especially since he could barely resist the urge to turn back. He needed to regain control before took human form again, or, naked as he'd be, he'd simply roll her to the ground.
Elthrinn was using both hands now, seeking and finding some places that he hadn't known were sensitive, at least, not in this form. She was practically embracing him, completely without fear now. He couldn't help that his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he knew he was almost grinning like a dumb hound.
Gorren imagined many nights in the future, through the cold, dead months, when their world would be buried under snow. He could keep Elthrinn warm like this. They could lie down together, she could tuck her slight body against his furred one, and be safe and comfortable.
He would make good on his promises. Whatever battles he fought, whatever foe he faced, he would find his way back to Elthrinn. He had to, he no longer had a choice.
Chapter Thirteen
"Elthrinn!" If she wasn't much mistaken, the queen had actually just stamped her foot. "Have you not eaten for the past two days?"
Rehan knew very well that Elthrinn had eaten, she'd been with her for most of her meals. It was true that nervousness had stymied Elthrinn's appetite, but Rehan had cajoled, and outright nagged, until Elthrinn had eaten something from her plate every single time. Elthrinn didn't seem to think that there was any point in making that argument, but Rehan appeared to be waiting for a response.
"You know I have."
The queen tugged viciously again on the laces of the corset that she was tightening. The motion jerked Elthrinn away from her support, so she tightened her grip on the carved post at the foot of her bed.
The room had been emptied. A maid had recently left with the linens from the bed that were to be taken to be laundered. Others had transferred all her belongings to the room that she would be sharing with Gorren from this night onwards. Elthrinn tried very hard not to think about that, and to instead concentrate on drawing some air into her lungs before Rehan made it impossible for them to expand. She closed her eyes rather th
an stare at the naked mattress.
"Please," Elthrinn gasped as Rehan pulled the lacings tighter. "I don't want to pass out."
"You don't want to fall out of this dress, either," Rehan muttered, but Elthrinn noticed that she stopped yanking on the ribbons as if they had offended her.
When Rehan had first raised the subject of the design of her wedding dress, Elthrinn had not had any opinion. Her outfits had always been dictated by practicality, rather than fashion. At the temple, she'd worn the same robes as everyone else. When she'd arrived in Dorvek, since she only had the clothes on her back in her possession, she'd worn the clothes she'd been gifted. She had never really formed an eye for fashions.
Rehan had suggested that Elthrinn might like to consider her height when choosing the design of her dress. The traditional wedding outfits worn in Dorvek were more elaborate versions of their everyday clothes, although Rehan had explained that the female versions tended to mirror the silhouette of her own dresses, with long sleeves and full skirts, rather than the casual attire of trews and overdress. Rehan had presented Elthrinn with two options: she could either be drowned in fabric, and thus have to wear heeled shoes, or she could leave the specifics of the dress to Rehan, and wear flat shoes. Elthrinn, having envisioned the mortifying embarrassment of tripping in front of half the town, had opted for flat shoes.
There was no doubt that the dress that Rehan had designed was beautiful, spectacular, even, but Elthrinn couldn't say that it was comfortable, or practical in any way. At least she would only have to wear it this once.
The bodice, which Rehan was so determinedly lacing, was black silk. All the better to highlight Elthrinn's pale skin, or so Rehan had said. The queen had also said something about not wanting anything too fussy near Elthrinn's face, but Elthrinn hadn't been paying attention at that particular point. That the bodice was silk implied that it was soft and fluid; it was soft, but it was a completely immoveable structure, stiffened by thin lengths of bone sewn into the seams of the fabric. It covered her breasts, although not as much as Elthrinn would have preferred. Rehan was right, though; it needed to be laced securely to keep everything in their rightful places.
The wide skirt was the focal point of the dress. Elthrinn had no idea how the seamstresses had managed it, but they had constructed the bottom half of the dress from layers of leaves, and had decorated it with wildflowers. There were splashes of yellow, white, pink, and blue scattered amongst every conceivable shade of green, in a cascade that whispered over the floor boards when she moved. It smelt like the lake, not the parts that were closest to the pine forest, the parts where the shore was a shallow slope that slipped into the water.
Elthrinn hoped that the assembled audience would be staring at the fantastical dress rather than at her. Not least because the dress left her shoulders and arms bare. Having been completely covered for years, she felt as though she'd be walking into great hall practically naked, but Rehan had reminded her that she'd chosen flat shoes as the higher priority. Indeed, under the layers of underskirts, Elthrinn was wearing dainty black silk slippers.
Her footwear, and the lack of coverage for her arms, would have been of concern for Elthrinn if the marriage was to have taken place outside. When she ventured outside the hall, Elthrinn was usually concerned that the knife-like wind might steal the edges of her ears, or the tip of her nose, but she would not be venturing from the hall, so the expanse of exposed skin, and thin soles, didn't matter.
Rehan had told her about the standing stones that were scattered throughout Dorvek, at which most ceremonies took place. Elthrinn had then explored the library until she had found a volume which had explained that the stones had been put in place by the first peoples of the country, who worshipped the moon and wished to honour its magic during the day as well as at night. The stones were circular, with a hole in the centre, and were set on their edges. A feature of a normal Dorvern wedding ceremony would be the bride and groom both walking through the centre of the stone to symbolise their birth into their new, joint, life.
But Elthrinn and Gorren would not be having a normal Dorvern wedding ceremony.
Usually the head of the pack of the town, in the case of Cranak that would have been King Dorll, would perform the ceremony, but the king had opted to remain as a passive observer. Elthrinn hadn't said as much, but she had felt the snub to Gorren in that decision. For herself, she cared not at all; the less officious the whole thing was, the better.
She knew that Rehan was silently angry about that aspect of the day, too, almost as angry as she'd been about Elthrinn's refusal to have any implements near her neck that were sharp enough to cut through her silver rings. The heavy iron device that the blacksmith had produced had terrified her, so she'd flatly refused to continue with the effort at all, and she'd had nightmares that night about people trying to chop off her head.
They were conforming to tradition in that they would be married on the night of the full moon, but the wedding would take place inside Cranak Hall, where the fire pits would keep Elthrinn's bare arms warm. In the absence of any input from his father, Gorren had enlisted one of the Generals to speak the ceremonial words. Elthrinn hoped the actual marriage part wouldn't take long; the General was so tall it hurt her neck to look up at him for any length of time.
"There, I think we're finished, apart from your hair."
Elthrinn felt Rehan smoothing her hands over the crosswork of the lacings, and dared to let go of the bed post.
"Did you make a choice?"
Rehan had been muttering for days about curling irons, and other mystical torturous implements. Elthrinn had been pretending not to hear, and had steeled herself to endure whatever the queen came up with, trusting that Rehan would not decide on anything ridiculous.
"Yes."
Rehan picked up the brush that had been left on the dresser at her instruction, and approached Elthrinn. Elthrinn shut her eyes, and tried to think happy thoughts.
"Elthrinn, please stop acting as though I'm about to beat you," Rehan sighed, a sound so resigned that Elthrinn opened her eyes and dared to look at her. "I'm simply going to brush your hair, and leave it as it is. I promise that the dress is the worst of it. I won't stick pins in your scalp."
Elthrinn sighed her own sigh, one of relief.
"Believe it or not, child, I want you to have the opportunity to enjoy yourself."
Elthrinn looked down at the dress, and back up at Rehan with one eyebrow raised.
"I want you to enjoy it. I do not want you to marry my son looking like a vagabond," Rehan clarified.
"But everyone in Dorvek wears those kinds of clothes," Elthrinn protested.
"You're not from Dorvek. Now hold still."
Rehan waved the brush threateningly, so Elthrinn held her head up, straightened her spine, and did not move while Rehan pulled the brush through her hair. Fortunately the queen appeared to have spent her energy on the corset, and was all gentleness in her grooming.
"You're tense, my dear."
"I can't breathe."
"Would you rather be at the part of the day where you get to unlace the thing?"
Elthrinn swallowed the lump of stone that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat.
"I thought so." Rehan's voice had turned soothing. "They'll be able to hear your heartbeat in the next room, it's hammering so hard."
A knock at the door caused Elthrinn to jump so high she could have sworn she may well have hit her head on the ceiling. Rehan didn't seem surprised in the least, but by the time Elthrinn had made sure that her heart was back in her chest, and had turned to see who their visitor was, the door was closing. Rehan was holding two cups.
"Here, drink this. But sip it slowly mind."
Elthrinn peered suspiciously into the cup that Rehan handed her. It looked like water, but it smelt like tangy fruit. She took a sip, and gasped as the almost pure alcohol burned her throat. She coughed, and through watering eyes saw Rehan calmly take a drink from her own cup.
"It's made from fermented plums," Rehan informed her. "Too much will send you to sleep for half a day, but a small amount will steady your nerves."
"Will I still be able to speak?" Elthrinn croaked.
"As much as you'll need to," Rehan answered.
Elthrinn tried to take another sip. It didn't sting so badly, but it still made her wince.
Rehan put a comforting hand on Elthrinn's shoulder. "All you have to do, my dear, is try to relax, and trust Gorren. He'd never do anything to cause you pain."
Elthrinn didn't know what to say. She was monumentally uncomfortable having any sort of conversation along such lines with her intended husband's mother. She nodded, took another sip from her cup of liquid courage, and turned around so that Rehan could finish messing with her hair. Elthrinn tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that the day could not last forever, and that the dawn would have to break at some point. She would concentrate on the coming sunrise, and try to ignore everything else.
Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2) Page 14
