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Numair looked up anxiously when Sir Douglass of Veldine entered the First Priestess’s office. He and Daine had been waiting there for hours, as the knight found out what he could from King Matrurin’s Patrolman. The Priestesses of the Mother’s Shield had told them on no uncertain terms that Daine wouldn’t be safe if she stepped foot off temple grounds as long as the Patrolmen sought her. Numair was inclined to believe them, given the look in the Patrolmen’s eyes when they’d seen Daine had shape-shift in the battle against the joint band of hurroks and winged apes that morning.
It wasn’t hatred, or fear, the emotions Daine’s rare and strange magic usually inspired in those unfamiliar with her powers. It was opportunity.
A priestess from the temple, a young woman Daine had saved from a sweeping hurrok, acted quickly and whisked Daine to sanctuary in the temple. That had been hours ago.
Sir Douglass was reasonably well-versed in law, and had some background in diplomacy. That education was why Jon had appointed him Maura of Dunlath’s guardian and advisor. The knight had spent the last few hours trying to find out what crime, exactly, Daine had committed to draw the attention of the Patrolmen. Numair and Daine, along with the Rider group and men-at-arms who had accompanied them from Dunlath were forced to wait behind temple walls.
“It’s not good news, I’m afraid.” Sir Douglass began. “We’d heard rumors that things were changing here in Galla, but it’s far worse than we thought.”
“Worse how?” Numair asked.
“King Matrurin Crozat has a new consort, a noblewoman from Scanra. She has a fanatical devotion to an obscure cult of Yahzed, and her devotion has rubbed off on the king.” Sir Douglass explained.
“Yahzed?” Daine asked.
“A Scanran god, patron of clan chieftans.” Numair explained absently. “A lot of his followers forbid or punish the use of magic. It’s probably due to the historical tension between war chieftains and shamans in clan leadership but– I digress.” Numair nodded at Sir Douglass.
“Well, the King’s new religion is very much of the ‘punish magic’ school,” the knight explained. “It’s now illegal to practice any magic in Galla without a license.”
“Are Numair and I in trouble?” Daine asked. They’d certainly both used their fair share of magic in the fight against the apes and hurroks earlier.
“Not exactly,” Sir Douglass explained. “The laws don’t– can’t apply to foreign subjects. King Matrurin might be blinded by his new lady’s death cult, but he’s not a complete neophyte. But… they’re saying you’re Gallan.”
Daine scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. I was born here, but I’m Tortallan now. I swore an oath to King Jonathan. To him, in person.”
Sir Douglass chuckled. “Obviously you’re Tortallan as far as any reasonable person is concerned. But, technically, you never renounced your Gallan fealty.”
“Why would I have to?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Sir Douglass assured her. “Most commoners don’t bother with such things. The only reason you’d do it is if there was a title or estate in Galla you were entitled to–”
Daine snorted at the notion. “There is not.”
“Indeed,” Sir Douglass agreed. “But the Patrolmen aren’t reasonable people. They claim that because you never filed an Abdication of Residency with the Gallan Crown or a consulate, you’re still Gallan and subject to their laws.”
“So, what’s the consequence for practicing magic without a license?” Daine wanted to know. “Is it a fine? I don’t have a lot on me, but I could pay back…” She drifted off. Sir Douglass was shaking his head. He looked grave.
“It depends on the scale of the magic.” the knight explained. “Healing, or household spells, it’s a fine. Charms will get you time in the stocks or even prison, depending on the charm.”
Numair winced. Galla was going to have a flood of unwanted babies in the next year if charm mages were put in jail for making anti-pregnancy charms.
Sir Douglass continued. “Performing Great Magics - like shapeshifting— is considered treason.” Daine blanched. Numair felt his stomach drop to the floor.
“Treason— it’s a capital crime, isn’t it?” Daine whispered.
Douglass nodded. “Obviously King Jonathan will not stand for you being arrested and executed. And as long as we stay in the temple’s guest house, they won’t come in for you. At least not immediately.”
“Daine, if you flew, could you make it back to Tortall?” Numair said, mindless with panic. Treason, capital crime, the words swirled in his head, he could barely see.
“Mayhap, but what’ll they do to the rest of you if I flee?”
“I can get them out, you know I can,” Numair assured her. He could do anything if he knew she was safe.
“There are... a number of options that would involve bloodshed.” Sir Douglass agreed.
“Are there options that don’t?” Daine asked. “I don’t want to get this Rider group killed, on my account.”
Sir Douglass started to pace along one wall of the office. “I spoke by scry-stone to our ambassador in Cría. There are pressures the Crown can and will exert to get you back safely. But those will take time, and every day we delay is a day that the Patrolmen might lose patience with the niceties of divine hospitality.”
“You think they would violate the laws of the Goddess’s sanctuary?” Numair asked. That was unthinkable.
“I think they burned three priestesses of the Mother just last month for an purification project they did in the Dilma slums.” Sir Dougass’s voice was grim. “King Matrurin must know he’s counting war with Tortall if he harms a hair on the Wildmage’s head, but… there are zealots at his court, perhaps including him. He might not care. He might think he can win with the support of his god.”
“So what do we do?” Asked Daine. “Just sit here and wait?”
Obviously not, thought Numair to himself. He’d fight their way to the Tortallan border to protect her. Maybe a few dozen Patrolmen would get vaporized in the process, but he had a hard time caring at the moment.
“There’s another option. I… dare say it’s the best, and possibly only one.” Sir Douglass said.
“What’s that?” Daine asked.
“You could become a Tortallan under Gallan law.” Sir Douglass addressed this suggestion to his shoes.
“File the paperwork?” Daine asked, confused.
“No, it’s too late for that. Even if there was time, they’d probably make sure it got lost,” the knight mumbled.
“What’s the option, then?” Numair asked. He was getting uneasy with the way Sir Douglass was talking around whatever point he had.
“Under Gallan law, a wife takes on the citizenship of her husband. You could… marry a Tortallan, and you’d be instantly exempt from the licensing law.” Sir Douglass said, with a considerable measure of embarrassment. “The King’s Patrols would recognize you as a foreign mage. We’d still owe a fine, for practicing a great working without permission, but they wouldn’t lay a hand on you.”
A strange chord of emotions bloomed in Numair’s chest. The high-key adrenaline of Daine being in mortal danger was underscored by the thick, coating dread that always accompanied thoughts of Daine marrying someone else in Numair’s mind. A soft overtone of pathetic hope played above it all– if he offered…
Daine gulped out several uneasy snorts of laughter. “That is not what I thought you were going to say.” Douglass smiled ruefully.
“It’s highly unorthodox, I admit.” Sir Douglass said. “But as ridiculous as it is, the legal foundation is sound. Marriage is recognized as a legitimate basis for citizenship in every country in the Eastern Lands.”
“That may be, but who’s going to marry me? I don’t have anyone I’m that way with right now, and even if I did, you said it’d have to be soon.”
Numair was vaguely aware Daine was looking sideways at him. He hoped the expression on his face wasn’t too stricken; he felt he ought to say something, but short of kneeling at her feet and begging her to choose him, laying out some humiliating declaration of love and devotion when her life was at stake, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Sir Douglass nodded. “Very soon. In the next day would be ideal, so you’re right, it would have to be someone in our party.”
“Not the Riders,” Daine said. “If they married, they’d have to leave the service. I can’t ask them to give up their livelihood for some sham of a marriage.”
Sir Douglass took a deep breath. “There is… One other thing.” he said. “The marriage must be… unassailable, legally.”
“Oh, so I shouldn’t call it a sham in public?” Daine remarked.
“That too.” Sir Douglass agreed. “But… It will have to be, um, consummated. You and your, um, husband, will be questioned under truth spells. The Patrolmen have very good ones, I understand.”
Numair felt himself nodding mechanically. “Galla has been strong in truth and illusion magic.” He heard himself say, as though from a great distance. “There’s a long history, going all the way back to Giomo the Tyrant–”
Numair realized he was about to give an academic dissertation on when what Daine needed was– well. Not a scholar. He cut himself off. “In any case, not even I could break such truth spells, especially if the questioning is… yes or no questions.”
“Wonderful.” Daine said dryly. “So, I have to get married, bedded, and questioned about it, all in the next day?”
Sir Douglass nodded. “I’m sorry,”
“Well, then who? I would rather be married than dead, or getting others killed.” Daine said, her remarkable practicality shining through, though she was fidgeting with her hands. “But my options are somewhat limited.”
Numair shifted, preparing to speak, praying that he could say the words, make the offer in a way that sounded reasonable. As if he hadn’t imagined asking her to marry him - marry him, at least weekly for the last three years. In all those fantasies, of course, she’d said yes. She’d said yes with happy tears in her eyes, or breathless excitement, or a fond smile. She’d never looked distressed and anxious and frightened, as she did now.
“The most reasonable choice, is, well, me”
Numair frowned. Those words hadn’t come from his own lips. They’d come from Sir Douglass. Sir Douglass. The older knight was blushing a bit, and studying the grain of the table before him.
“You?” Daine asked, sounding maybe one eighth as baffled as Numair felt.
“I come from a prominent house within Tortall, my citizenship and standing can’t be questioned. I– You need not worry I’d make demands upon you, as your husband, at least not beyond what’s legally necessary. I’m a second son with two younger brothers, Veldine has no need of an heir. I can provide well enough for a wife.”
“But you’re a noble.” Daine said. “And I’m commoner than common. Surely”
Sir Douglass shrugged. “You’re the Wildmage, and I’m a younger son. And my family will be happy enough if I marry at all.”
Understanding crept into Numair’s mind, and dawned on Daine’s face at the same time.
“Oh, Lady Maura said she thought you might be sweet on the captain of the guards a few years back…”
Sir Douglass blushed deeper. “I was at the time. I– have someone else now. But as I can’t marry for love anyway, so I might as well do so for my country. Of course I’d give you whatever freedom you’d like to have others, yourself. Though, um, certain appearances would have to be kept up.”
Daine’s lips twisted. “I don’t know how to be a noblewoman, but–”
The roaring in Numair’s ears was deafening. Daine was negotiating the rest of her life to a man who’d never love her. He would have to watch her marry someone else, probably today.
“What about me?” He blurted.
Daine and Sir Douglass both turned to look at him in surprise. They’d probably forgotten he was there. With their gazes on him, he was at a loss for words again. “I mean, that is– Sir Douglass isn’t the only Tortallan man here. If Daine would consider– would prefer. I am offering.”
Sir Douglass looked surprised, but thoughtful. Numair could barely bring himself to look at Daine at all, but she looked gobsmacked.
Douglass spoke. “You’re not Tortall-born, it might complicate matters–”
“It shouldn’t. I did formally renounce my Tyran citizenship– it was required, to work for the Emperor. And I was stripped of my Carthaki status when I was accused of treason. Emperor Kaddar offered it back, but I declined, formally and legally. I’m as Tortallan as anyone can be.”
“You would– You’d do that, for me?” Daine whispered. As if he was doing her a favor.
“I admit, I’m a more… complicated choice than Sir Douglass. But marriage to me wouldn’t gain you any obligations you don’t already hold. Something to consider.”
Daine stared at him, silent for long, painful moments. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, even if he could bear to meet her eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.
“Sir Douglass,” Daine said, and Numair’s heart clenched in his chest. “I need to speak to Numair privately, for a moment.”
Sir Douglass crossed to the door. Before he left, he added, “The choice is yours, Daine, but you’ll need to make it quickly. Today if possible. We can have the Sisters prepare a ceremony for sundown. That would be the best schedule.”
Daine nodded without looking at the knight. “Can you have Miri from the Riders help find me something to wear? I didn’t think to pack a wedding dress.”
Douglass bowed and left. Daine hadn’t stopped staring at Numair the entire time.
“Numair. Look at me.” He obeyed, flinching. “Why?”
He waited full seconds for her to continue the question before he realized that was it.
“I think you would be happier, if it were me.” That was a pale shadow of a fraction of the truth, but it was true.
“You’re right. I would be.” Numair tried not to let his heart soar at that bare consideration. He failed. “And that’s reason enough for me to choose you. But I don’t see why it’s enough for you to choose this.”
“I’m rather selfishly unwilling to lose your presence in my life. If you were to choose Sir Douglass, I think we might have difficulty being able to work and travel together. And I meant it– the wife of a noble, even a younger son, has obligations I don’t think you’d enjoy.” Also, the thought of her marrying anyone who wasn’t him made him want to cry, and the thought of her marrying someone else, whom she didn’t even love, made him want to scream.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am absolutely sure.” He could meet her eyes to say that, at least. She stepped forward, and took his hand.
“All right. Then I choose you.”
He lifted the hand that held his to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll never give you cause to regret it, Magelet.”
She wrapped her free hand around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “I know you won’t.”
He wasn’t sure how long he stood, holding her, trying to get his rapid thoughts and emotions in line. But she pulled away first. “Come on. We have a wedding to plan.” she said crookedly.
–
The wedding required very little planning, of course. The sisters of the temple were informed. He had his best tunic cleaned and pressed. A jeweler in town provided a pair of plain silver bands. Numair thought wistfully of the elegantly-worked sapphire-and-diamond ring he’d seen in Corus last fall, and had fantasized about giving Daine someday. He wondered if she might permit him to replace her ring, once they were home, or if she’d want to acknowledge their marriage as little as possible.
They’d left so much unsaid, about what their marriage - their marriage– would look like, after tonight, after tomorrow, after they left Galla. She didn’t even ask if he expected them to share a bed after the wedding night. Probably she knew he’d never insist, never take advantage of his position as her husband. Her husband. He found himself grinning stupidly for a minute, as he fit that word, and Daine, and himself into the same space. Her husband.
–
The wedding itself was surprisingly easy. She wore a fitted blue dress that hugged her figure and made her eyes glow, though it was a tad too long for her.
They stood before a priestess of the temple, and he made promises to her out loud that he’d already made in his heart a hundred times. She said the words back to him– I pledge myself to you, body and soul, life and works, family and name, honor and love– and her voice never wavered, her eyes never left his. So much confusion and doubt had clouded the day. But– he knew she meant it. Maybe not the way he desperately wanted, but she was his in her own way. It would be enough for him, for the rest of their lives. It would be enough.
–
The priestesses prepared a very modest wedding feast for them. It was standard temple fare, really, except they’d fetched wine and jam out of the cellars, so the Riders and men-at-arms who were their wedding party had a splendid time, and there was cake.
Numair drank nothing beyond the sip that was traditional for a married couple to drink from each others’ goblets. Daine had a little more, but she left everything - her dinner, her wine, her cake– half finished.
After an hour or two, a pair of the temple’s novices guided them up to a bedroom in one of the temple’s residential towers, giggling and casting glances at them the whole way. He was quite sure the girls were ignorant of the true reason for this marriage.
Numair held Daine’s hand the whole way, whether for himself or for the benefit of the novices, he couldn’t say. Then they were alone.
–
“How do you want to do this?” Daine spoke first. She’d dropped his hand and turned to face him, once the novices retreated.
“I– how do you mean?” He stammered.
Daine sighed, and he got the impression she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes at him. “I mean the consummation. Best as I understand, the law only cares if well– I asked Sir Douglass– if the ‘woman is breached, and the man reaches completion.’”
Numair winced, but also chucked. Some fraction of the tension slid away. “Your thoroughness in research is admirable, Magelet. But I’m still not entirely sure I understand what you’re asking.”
“Well, I’m saying we don’t have to… do anything elaborate. We could just… skip right to it, and be done. If you’d prefer.”
“That is not what I prefer,” he tried to not sound horrified. “That would be rather painful for you.”
“Okay. Good. I don’t think it’s what I’d want, either, but I wanted to offer.”
“You don’t think–” Realization crept along his awareness. “Daine. Have you not. Have you not done this before?”
Daine shrugged. “No, I have, A few times. I had that clerk before and after the war, and the silversmith’s apprentice– that one was awkward because it was his master who made my pregnancy charm. But it’s been a while.”
He latched onto the one part of her monologue that didn’t make him want to kill someone out of jealousy.
“A charm– do you need…” He said. If Galla was restricting charm work, it might have been difficult to acquire one. If she didn’t have one, the magic was extremely simple, he could probably build one for her–
She interrupted his thoughts by pulling a chain out from under the badger claw. She did roll her eyes at him this time, just a little bit. “I don’t wear it all the time, because it doesn’t stay with me when I shift, but I keep it in my belt-purse.”
“Oh. Right. Very reasonable again.”
“Thank you.” She grinned at him, just slightly, but the smile turned strained within moments. “So. How do you want to do this?”
“I… Whatever you’d be the most comfortable with.”
“‘Comfortable’ is a strange word, for the circumstances.”
“I’m sorry.” He was, for a thousand things at this moment.
“I am too, but we can’t spend tonight apologizing to each other.” Daine took a deep breath. “I think– the best, the most comfortable thing, would be if, if we tried to treat this like we chose this.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, I know you have more experience than me,” Daine blushed, “So, what if you just… acted like I was one of the court ladies. Someone you chose.”
He had no idea what he was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. “You mean–” Seduce you, his unhelpful mind supplied. He tried to think of words he could say out loud.
“Canoodling?” He asked with a crooked smile. He used the word she’d flung at him in embarrassment three years ago, when she’d arrived at his rooms in the palace for meditation practice to find his previous night’s guest still there, in a rather obvious state of undress. She’d been sixteen then, probably too old for such euphemisms.
“I can’t believe you’re never going to let me live that down. Especially since I wasn’t early. You were the one who lost track of time.” She glared at him. But then nodded seriously. “But yes. Canoodling. Seduction. Dalliances. Whatever word you’d use for it. If you can, if we can just treat this like something we both wanted, I think it’ll be less awkward.”
Like something we wanted. As if this wasn’t something he’d ached for, almost every waking moment, for the last three years. “You might be right.” On impulse, he reached out and put a hand on her waist, where the bodice of her blue silk dress met the skirt. “If you’re willing.”
Daine smiled at him, shyly. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I am,” she murmured, as her hand drifted up to his shoulder.
Numair had to close his eyes and catch his breath, even as he snaked his other hand around her waist. Every thought in his head was driven out by her nearness, by the feel of her. By the knowledge that she had just, perhaps unknowingly, given him permission to make love to her.
He moved one hand to the back of her neck, and tilted her head up. “You’ll tell me. If you want to slow down, or if you’re uncomfortable. If you want to stop.”
Daine nodded, but chucked at that last. “We can’t exactly stop.” She pointed out.
Numair shook his head, vehemently. “If you need me to stop, I will.” He swore. “And I’ll fight every Patrolman between here and the border, or maybe I’ll go to Cría and overthrow the king directly.”
She laughed, but there was some undercurrent of heat in her eyes. “You are good at romance, Sir Mage.” she smiled, and stepped a bit closer.
He’d never seen her smile quite like that at him, before. He couldn’t resist running a thumb along her bottom lip. She leaned into the touch with a sigh that erased his brain function. He leaned down and kissed her, replacing his thumb with his lips.
She responded almost instantly, opening her mouth to his, and wrapping one arm around his back, the other resting low on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of her head, where a series of decorative hairpins held her curls in a mass at the back of her head.
“As lovely as this is,” he whispered to her, kissing his way from her mouth to her jaw to the side of her throat, “I fear these pins may get in the way later.”
“Mmmm” She said. She reached up and pulled two pins loose, causing her curls to half tumble over her shoulders. There were four others, which he found and removed, running his hands through her hair.
The ministrations were a bit too close to the way he might touch her in the ordinary course of things. They both suffered the hazards of thick, curly hair, and he’d helped her tie her hair back when her hands were occupied with a healing or dirty from some campsite task.
Desperate as he was to do so, he wasn’t sure how to resume the more intimate touches. Or if she’d even want him to, if the momentary spell was broken.
Daine apparently had no such hesitation. Once her hair was free, she took him by the hand and guided him firmly to sit on the bed. She stood between his knees, which put his eyes at the level of her lips for just a moment before she leaned down and captured his in another kiss. He ran his hands along her sides, as she tugged at the laces of his tunic, and pushed it off his shoulders. She wriggled closer to him, pressing into his chest as she tugged his shirt loose from his breaches. In moments, it was over his head and off. She stepped back to admire her accomplishment with a satisfied smile, touching his bare chest with just the tips of her fingers.
“I’m going to need your help doing the same.” She said, running her hand along his bare shoulder, down his bicep. “This dress isn’t built for me to take it off myself.”
“It is lovely though.” He murmured, but obliged when she turned to let him undo the bodice laces at her back. When it was loose enough, he tugged at the shoulders of the garment to pull the dress down and off until she was bare from the waist up, only thin petticoats covering her legs.
He’d seen her partially– or fully– unclothed over the past several years, caught glimpses of her after shape-shifts. But never before had he been able to run his hands along the bare expanse of her back, loop his hands around her waist to stroke the lines of her stomach. He stood and pulled her flush against him, pressing skin-to-skin. She sighed, and he felt his member twitch in response.
Perhaps she did too, because she ever so slightly backed against him more firmly. He groaned and set upon her neck and shoulders with kisses and light nips.
“Numair–” she sighed, and it was a wonder he didn’t come right then and there.
“Yes?” he managed, between licks on her ears and jaw.
“You can– You can touch me, you know.” She said.
He’d been carefully keeping his hands away from her breasts, her buttocks, and the juncture of her legs. Afraid to cross that one more line.
With a groan, he turned her to face him. He kissed her lips thoroughly, then pulled away to look at her. Her body was taut with muscle and peppered with scars. Her breasts were small enough they’d fit in his palm, but her nipples were enticingly pebbled and stood out against her flesh.
By all the gods she was beautiful.
Tentatively, he reached out, tracing down her chest with the back of his knuckles. When he skimmed her right breast, she gasped and the sound killed his restraint. In one motion he turned her and sat her back on the bed, and this time he knelt between her thighs.
This exact image had appeared in more than one of his fantasies; he tried to keep the emotions off his face as he drank in the sight.
She asked you to pretend this was something you wanted. She didn’t ask to be burdened by your foolish infatuation. He scolded himself. He tried to focus on pleasing her, so she wouldn’t see the want in his eyes.
He knew from experience that she was ticklish on the side of her ribcage; he was delighted to discover that a firmer touch there elicited gasps rather than giggles. Kisses and nibbles produced moans. He was vaguely aware of his own groans in response. Finally, he pressed his hand to one breast and his lips to another.
“Ah, Numair…” she sighed.
“Hmm?” He hummed a question at her, lips and tongue never parting from her flesh.
“Keep doing that.” she commanded, and he obeyed. He vaguely felt her hands release his hair from its tie, and her fingers carding through his locks.
He felt her kick off her slippers, and he rose to his feet— with a kiss to her shoulder, her neck and lips— to wrestle off his own boots and stockings.
When he was done, she was watching him with a sly smile. She’d backed herself up to recline on the bed fully, hair spread around her on the pillows, legs bent and spread under the slip she still wore.
He crawled over her, back to kissing her again. He ran his hand down her neck, her shoulder, her side, following with his lips in short order.
He turned his mouth’s attention back to a breast, as he teased the waistband of her slip with one hand, ready to stop if she seemed hesitant or uncomfortable.
She bucked into him, half sitting up in the bed. She ran her own hands down his shoulder and chest, exploring every inch of his torso. She latched her own lips to the pulse point under his jaw right as she dipped a hand into the waistband of his breeches.
“Oh,” he groaned. “Are you sure…”
“I’m sure.” she said. “I’m so sure I think I’ll go crazy.”
“Very well,” he said, unable to keep the fond grin from his face. He stood again and shed his breeches. He lost his balance in his haste, and had to hop on one leg and grip the bedpost to keep from toppling over. When he recovered, clad only in a loincloth, he found she had a genuine smile on her face. Whatever embarrassment he felt at his clumsiness was worth it if she kept looking at him like that.
He forced himself to look away, knowing if he met her eyes, she’d definitely see the love in his.
Heedless of his awkwardness, she scooted forward on the bed and looped her thumbs in the waistband of his loincloth.
“This needs to go too, I think.” She said. Her voice quivered, a little. She was clearly trying to sound more confident than she felt. He felt a rush of fondness for that small act, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes. If I look at her now, she’ll know.
Instead, he looked at where her hands rested on his hips, pulling at his loincloth. He laid his hands over hers, helped her pull the last garment off until he was naked before her.
“Oh,” She whispered. He risked a glance down. Her gaze was on his member, her long lashes obscuring her beautiful blue eyes from his sight.
He was fully erect, of course. Almost painfully so. Beads of moisture dipped from the tip.
“Can I–?” she reached out.
“Of course.” he said, “But… not too much. I don’t know If I can last otherwise. And I need to last.”
She nodded, and took him in her hand. Gently. Almost painfully softly. It was still more than enough to cause his knees to buckle. He lay down on the bed next to her.
She continued stroking him, slowly, as she captured his lips in a kiss. When she pulled away, she propped herself on one elbow to study his reactions. Her face held a satisfaction so tantalizing he nearly spent himself just at the thought of it. He groaned and regretfully guided her hand to his hip instead.
“I think I’ll need a moment,” he gasped. He shifted so that she lay back, and he was propped above her. “Just as well, one of us is overdressed,” he said, wondering where he got the courage to joke even that much.
Her petticoat was held in place with a drawstring. He undid it carefully but didn’t move the garment, opting to slide his fingers under the waistband instead. He slid his hand low, first, along her leg, then back up, along the inside of her thigh.
When he reached the apex of her thighs he felt– gods. No loincloth or smallclothes of any sort, just the warm heat of her. She’d gone without underthings. The sheer thought of that made him dizzy with desire. He looked at face, she was absolutely scarlet.
“I– Miri told me to take it off during the feast. She said it would be helpful.” She blushed deeper, somehow. “I can’t believe I listened to her.”
“I’m not unhappy you did.” Numair croaked. “It is helpful.” He slipped a finger between her folds.
Daine gasped, and he had to look away from her again. Just a glimpse of her like that, her face contorted in the pleasure he was causing was dangerous.
Instead, he turned his attention to removing her petticoat without withdrawing his hand from her center. It was the work of moments, and then she was naked before him, the way she’d been in so many of his dreams and fantasies. He worked one finger inside her, pushed another against her clit. She groaned and writhed in response.
He busied his mouth and eyes kissing her - along her hips and stomach, up to her breasts and back down to her core. He slid a second finger inside her, stroking and probing for the best reaction. He could feel her grinding into him and clenching around his hand; She was close. He shifted his hand and pressed his mouth into her core, tongue working her nub in time to her shuddering moans. With a few firm slides of his fingers and tongue, she was there. He felt her peak as her inner walls gripped his fingers, as her hips bucked against his lips. He kept working her clit, slowing his pace to evoke shuddering, gasping aftershocks in her.
“Oh, goddess, Numair.” she panted when her flesh had finally calmed from his touch. “I– didn’t know you would do that.”
“I thought you might enjoy it.” He bestowed one more languid lick in the heat of her after he withdrew his fingers. She shuddered. “I’m glad I was right.” He knelt between her legs and licked his fingers mostly clean.
He crawled up the bed to place his forehead against hers. He looked her in the eyes. Her expression was languid, unfocused, and utterly trusting.
“Are you ready?” He whispered.
She nodded. “More than, I’d think.” She drew him down for a kiss. She was hungry, tasting herself on his lips. She spread her legs wider under him and pressed her hips toward his.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to memorize every feeling of this moment that would surely never come again. He took several breaths, getting himself under control. He propped himself on one forearm on the pillow next to her, and used the other hand to reach down and guide himself into her.
Oh Mithros She was so warm and slick and ready. Her walls gripped his member invitingly. He forced himself to go slow, to give her time to adjust. Give her time to tell him to stop, if she needed.
He showered kisses along her neck and hairline as he pushed another inch into her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pushing her hips wider and up. He took the invitation, pushing into her as far as he could.
He groaned, burying his face in the pillow next to her. “Gods, you feel so good,” he whispered to her ear, because it was true, and because it was all he could do to keep from baring his soul, telling her how much he loved her, how much he desired this, how he wished he could stay joined with her forever.
“Numair… please.” There was a tone in her voice that made him look her in the eyes, dangerous as it was. If he was hurting her, he had to know.
“Yes, sweet?” He held his face above hers, concern knitting his brow. “Is it hurting? Do you need me to–”
“Numair– I need you.” She met his eyes and rolled her hips against him, pulling him deeper, then shallower. His eyes flickered closed in pleasure.
“Oh, gods, yes. You have me.” the words came tumbling out before he could think better of them.
“Then take me.” she said, and whatever was left of his restraint broke. He thrust into her again and again, firmly and deeply, seeking the best angle. When her gasps turned to sighs, then moans, he eased his hand back between them. With his thumb, he sought out her nub once again, pressed it in time with his thrusts.
She came, her opening pulsing around him. The feeling, and the sounds of her moans, undid him at the seams. He cried out, pressing his face into her neck as he shuddered into her.
He lay on top of her, boneless, for the length of three breaths. He tried to memorize the scent of her, the feeling of joining and completion and absolute contentment. The weight of one of her arms draped across his back, the other buried in his hair. But soon– too soon– he knew he had to move, lest he crush her.
He wasn’t sure if he should kiss her, now that they’d done what they needed. She hadn’t given him leave for anything, really, once the “canoodling” was done. He compromised with himself and pressed his lips gently onto her cheek as he rose and withdrew from her.
He wanted nothing more in the world than to lay back down with her, to wrap her naked form in his arms to sleep. Or to kiss and touch her slowly, gently, over hours until they were both ready for another round.
But she hadn’t agreed to that. So he busied himself with some necessary tasks. He pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked it around her. He wondered if he should offer to sleep on the floor; he could probably even ask for a separate room, if she preferred.
He looked back at her. She’d rolled onto her side, but otherwise hadn’t moved. Her face was blank; she seemed to be thinking hard about something. He hesitated, then sat, and smoothed her hair back from her face.
“Are you all right, Magelet?” He tugged at the sheets to cover his lap, some absurd play of modesty given what they were doing minutes before.
She paused for long seconds. She looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I’m fine.”
Her voice broke on the last syllable. He looked at her sharply. That wasn’t “fine.” That was the sound of Daine holding back tears.
“Daine, gods, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. If I’d known–” He wanted to reach out and hold her, as he would do in any other circumstance where she was in pain. But he was frozen, not knowing what lines were redrawn between them.
Her face crumpled even more. “You didn’t hurt me” There was an absolutely choked quality to her voice. She was crying. “It was… it was wonderful really, thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, gods Magelet, what’s wrong? I swear, if I can do anything–”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Numair. I did,” she choked out. “I trapped you.”
Trapped him? She trapped him? “I don’t understand. You did nothing of the sort. I offered.”
Daine sighed, getting control of her tears. “You did. And I am grateful. But it wasn’t fair of me to accept. I didn’t think about what it would be like for you, married for the rest of your life to someone you didn’t want that way.”
“Didn’t want– Daine. What?” He wanted desperately to comfort her, but he couldn’t form thoughts in the face of the absurd notion that he didn’t want her. “Of course I want you.” He blurted, then winced.
“Don’t– please, you never lie to spare my feelings, please don’t start now.” He started to protest, but she cut him off. “The whole time, you could barely look at me. You never once called me by my name. I knew when I said you should pretend– that you’d probably have to picture someone else, so I can’t really mind that for my own sake. But now we’re married, and you’re stuck with me, and I forced that on you, on us.”
Daine’s words echoed in his skull, as though they were coming from farther and farther away. “Daine,” he said, probably interrupting her, but that didn’t matter. He met her eyes, firmly. “I wanted you. Desperately. Consumingly. I’m sorry if thinking otherwise caused you distress, because it’s not true.”
“Then why didn’t you look at me?” Her voice cracked again.
“Because I knew that if you saw the way I looked at you in that moment, how completely I wanted you– you might feel obligated to give me– more than I have any right to ask, beyond tonight.”
He braced himself for her rejection, or perhaps more tears. But Daine just stared at him for long moments with a puzzled look on his face.
“Numair, we’ve known each other for almost seven years. You showed me how to use my magic and saved me from madness. By rights, I owe you everything. But in all that time, have I ever done something for you I didn’t want to, out of obligation?” She’d stopped crying. Her gaze was fixed on his face, as though trying to read something written in Old Thak.
“I– perhaps not.” He said, thoughtfully. She had done things for others out of obligation, especially for her animal friends. But with him… she would contradict him freely and disobey him with abandon if she thought he was wrong or being silly. “Still. This is different. Intimacy and emotions can get complicated. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with me.”
“They can,” she allowed. “But I still don’t see how you think me seeing you lost in the moment was going to make me feel uncomfortable. I was pretty lost myself– I wouldn’t have minded the company,” she cracked a small smile at this last. She sat up with the blanket draped around her, and tentatively reached across the sheets and lay her hand on top of his. Not holding, not squeezing. Just placing it there. Her wedding ring glinted on her finger.
“Because it–” he looked at their hands, then forced himself to look back at her face. “Because it wasn’t just in the moment, Magelet. I’ve wanted this for– gods– years.” Her eyes widened.
“How is that– If that’s true, how have you never told me?” She said, very softly.
“You’re so much younger, and less experienced than me, Daine. You were my student. I feared that you’d feel obligated, or confused into accepting me. But what I’ve done is worse. I should have told you earlier, how I felt, so you’d know I wanted more than–” He gestured at the room at large with his free hand. “This.”
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Did you offer because you thought you’d be able to assert your rights as my husband? After?”
“No!” he cried. Horrified. “Never. I’d never demand that of you, Daine. I swear it by every god, I’ll never touch you again if you don’t want it.”
To his surprise she chuckled at that. “A simple no would have done fine” she said, squeezing his hand tightly. “I knew that, anyway. As you should know that I wouldn’t feel confused or obligated.”
“I suppose I did,” he admitted. It was true. Unwittingly tricking her into his bed had been a genuine worry of his when she was sixteen, but the concern had faded as she’d matured.
“Then why didn’t you just tell me, once we were in this situation? It couldn’t have made things more awkward. I think it would have helped, for me to know that you wouldn’t hate it”
“I should have told you, Daine. I should have told you everything. I’m— I was— too much of a coward.” He winced.
“There’s something you’re still not telling me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I—“ He took a deep breath, as though the extra air could keep him from the humiliation he was about to suffer. “It’s not just attraction, that I was trying to hide.”
Daine said nothing, simply looking at him with a calm and trusting expression. The words came out of him on a wave of fondness for her. “I’m in love with you, Magelet. I’ve wanted this– well, not this– but I’ve wanted to be your husband, in truth, for years now.”
He looked down before he could see her reaction to that. He spoke to their still-joined hands on the sheets. “Of course I didn’t want you to feel obligated, but I— I feared your rejection or your pity even more. I’ve managed to hide it, I think, for three years, and I thought if I could keep the secret for one night, there was a chance we could— we could carry on together as we always have, married or not.”
“Numair.” She took his chin in her free hand, and gently forced him to look at her again. She grinned. “Numair” she giggled. He felt a stab of pain in his chest. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would laugh at him. But her eyes danced and shone with fondness. “You must be the only man in the world who thinks telling his wife that he loves her will make things worse.”
Put like that, she did have a point but— “My wife—“ he paused, still viscerally reveling in the word for a heartbeat. “My wife was coerced into this union.” He said glumly.
“Well yes, these circumstances are terrible,” She smiled more broadly at him, and stroked her thumb against his cheek. “But if you’d told me. When I asked you why, Numair, if you’d told me, did you think that would make me want to choose Sir Douglass instead? It’s a wondrous thing, to have a husband who loves you.”
Tentatively, he reached, and pulled her against his chest. She melted into him, as fully and comfortably as she had done any number of times over the last six years. Although, in none of those other instances had they been naked; in none of those other embraces could he feel her sighing breath against the skin and hair of his chest. He felt his arousal stirring again, and blushed.
“I’m glad you offered, though.” She said, voice somewhat muffled against him. “Even if you were a dolt about it. If you hadn’t, I don’t think I’d’ve had the courage to ask you. And Then I’d be Lady Veralidaine of Veldine right now, which would be unfortunate on any number of levels.”
She chuckled to herself, but his brain was caught on something. “But you would have wanted to ask me?”
“Of course I would have. But I – I thought you knew–” He felt her shaking her head against his chest. “I noticed you getting more awkward about touching me, being around after I shapeshifted, things like that, the past few years.”
“Ah. I had hoped you wouldn’t notice that. I didn’t want to be seen as forcing my attentions on you.”
“I noticed. I just thought–” She took a deep breath, sat up to meet his eyes. “I thought it was because you figured out how I felt, and you were just pushing me away polite as you could manage.”
His heart thudded at her words. “Daine…?”
She shook her head at him, an enormous smile on her face. “You dolt. I would hardly think I’d trapped you if this wasn’t something I wanted for myself. I love you. I always have, though maybe I didn’t know it till the end of the war” She stroked his cheek again, and her expression turned serious. “It wasn’t exactly hard for me to pledge to honor and keep you for the rest of my life.”
He cupped her cheek in return. “Nor was it for me to promise the same to you.” He suspected the smile on his own face was bordering on goofy, but he hardly cared.
She pulled him to close the scant distance between their lips. The kiss was slow and careful, but a wave of contentment and relief made Numair’s body tremble as he held her. She was trembling too, when they pulled apart.
She nuzzled her forehead in the crook of his neck, an utterly sweet gesture that nearly drowned him with affection for her. He couldn’t resist dropping soft kisses on her forehead and hair.
He could feel her smile against his skin. “You know, this actually makes things much more complicated than if we just had an arrangement,” she said.
The fact that she’d opened the blanket to rest her bare front against his chest and side indicated she wasn’t necessarily unhappy about the complication, though she continued. “We haven’t talked about where we’ll live, or children, or any of the things people usually work out before getting married.”
“It may take some time to work out all the details,” he agreed. “We can talk tomorrow, on the road, on the way home.” He pulled her even closer, then reclined them both on the bed, holding her against him exactly as he’d wanted to before their discussion. He kissed her languidly. “I am confident we can work out a plan that’s amenable to both of us. But for now–” He kissed her again, on the corner of her lips, her nose, her forehead. “I’d like to enjoy our wedding night a little more, if my bride is willing?”
She was. He made love to her in truth then, and she to him. When they joined a second time, his eyes never left her face, and he didn’t worry that she’d see his emotions laid bare before her, because she was just as visibly overcome as he was.
He cried out her name in completion and whispered endearments to his Magelet in her ear as they drifted off to sleep.
–
The next morning, they both submitted to interrogation under truthspell for the Gallan King’s Patrolmen.
The spells only compelled true yes-or-no answers, but Daine seemed to take a crooked kind of delight in elaborating.
“Yes,” she said. “Twice. Well, three times if you count this morning, and probably once more before we leave here.”
He wasn’t sure if she was trying to embarrass the Patrolmen or fluster him, but she was doing a fantastic job of both.
The Patrolmen were bitter at having lost their high-profile quarry to legal loopholes, but they wisely saw that they were outmatched if it came to a show of force– their target’s new husband radiated raw power and fierce protectiveness in equal measure.
Before they went, they made Daine sign an Abdication of Residency before three Gallan witnesses. One Patrolman, two priestesses from the temple, and Numair himself stood by as she signed: Veralidaine Salmalín.
Her official statement under truthspell “probably once more before we leave here” turned out to be untrue.
It was twice.