Page 12 of A Minotaur Tale

Once invited, once accepted, Asterion was no longer timid. His tongue flowed into her mouth, inevitable and seductive. He teased her, savoring her, and she was bowled over by the sensation. His mouth tasted of the heady spices of the wine they’d shared, and she could get drunk on tasting him alone. All too soon, he was pulling away, leaving her questing with her mouth for him. Eyes closed, she searched, bereft of his warmth, overwhelmed by his absence. He didn’t go far, his forehead pressedto hers again, though she could feel his shaking where he touched her.

“I need to say goodnight. I have so much to do tomorrow. I know I need to leave, but even backing up has cost me.” His words were quiet, even had the library been filled, they were pitched so quiet only she would have been able to hear them. “Will I see you at the ball tomorrow? I’d offer to accompany you, but I need to be there early.”

“I–I hadn’t planned on–” A crowded room full of people still sounded like a nightmare… but with Asterion looking at her like she’d hung the stars, it almost sounded like a nightmare she might be willing to brave for him. “I don’t have anything to wear…”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Asterion turned around and reached into the phaeton, extracting one final box from under the seat. It was wide and long, white, and tied with a golden ribbon. He pressed it into her hands and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Think about it, for me?”

Cora watched him as he left, unable to tear her eyes away as he drove off. As soon as he was gone, however, she tore the ribbon off of the box and gasped. Lovingly wrapped in the same tissue she knew from her own modiste was an absolutely stunning gown. Her hands shookas she removed it, knowing how much such a thing would cost, and immediately seeing the thought that had gone into the design.

She hated crowds, and the thought of dancing in front of half the town made her feel like her stomach was about to drop through the floor… but the ball was something Asterion had workedsoincredibly hard on… and the dress was really so,solovely… it would be a shame to let it go to waste, wouldn’t it?

1. If she’d dug, she’d find that the friend he had to help cleanup was the partner of her own friend, Catrin.

2. As best I can tell, all nymphs are created in response to a great want, and then the magic inherent in the continent of Caihalaith fulfills the need by coalescing to create life.

3. Cora’s situation and Asterion’s involvement on the council has led to a concerted effort to help different races overcome the stereotypes about them that have been spread by the Empire. While some are partially true, like this of nymphs, they are almost universally harmful, regardless.

4. As one can imagine, these sorts of cultural conversations have since become increasingly common, but at this, one of the earliest stages of the rebellion, they were quite groundbreaking. Cora, in her role as Head Librarian went on to introduce courses and talks about culture in order to help the disparate peoples of the Empire understand one another in ways the Pathians actively supressed.

Chapter six

The next day wasso busy that Asterion shouldn’t have had time to think about Cora. The problem was, he’d done nothing but think about her for months. Hell, the only way he’d been able to motivate himself to do all the crazy holiday shenanigans was to think about how happy they’d make her. And after seeing her the night before? His mind was abuzz with the possibilities of her. He’d surprised her, he knew it, and it hadallbeenworth it.

Standing in the grand ballroom though, twisting his hands, he began to get nervous. What if she hated the dress? What if she realized how little he actually knew about her? What if the crowd was too much and she saw his urging to attend as a failure to understand what she would want. He knew that she’d not be excited about the crowd, but he’d hoped… well, that somehow she’d understand how much it meant to him. Somehow… without him actually telling her that.

Running a hand through his hair, he turned in a circle. Gods, he was sostupid.Of course she had no idea, he’d been so stunned by their kiss that he hadbarelyremembered to ask her, let alone give her the dress he’d had specially made. His parents had been thrilled about his interest when he’d written, and his father had responded with a four page letter on proper courting. Obviously notallof the tactics would work with Cora, he couldn’t kidnap and lock her in a maze of his making, in order to show her his prowess, but some had seemed worthy. Now, though? Standing in a crowded room, sweating through his one shouldered chiton? He was convinced he’d mucked things up somehow.

As ridiculous as it seemed, the fabrics he’d used were white, forest green and gold,specially chosen to suit the season, but also to best highlight Cora’s beauty. He’d worried that the ball would be a step too far, but he wanted a partner, someone who would take his own work into account. He’d placed the circular tables around the edges of the room where the lights were lower in case she needed a quiet place to sit. His head whipped around the large building, ensuring that the crystals were all set to the correct hue and light levels, that none of the swags of fabric had fallen, and that none of the fresh flowers had wilted in the last five minutes.

He staggered when a large hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Nervous, ‘Sterion?” Torsten was a large orc man, dressed in traditional orcish clothing, including a flat hat, known elsewhere as a beret, but he was certain they had their own name for it.1

Asterion coughed after the slap had knocked a bit of air from his lungs. “A bit,” he admitted.

“Aw, leave him alone, Tor. It’s normal, especially when the girl said she’d not be coming,”Torsten’s small wife, Catrin, chided him. The couple had had him over to dinner several times and, after finding out about his feelings for Cora, had been a great help in locating her presents. Around their feet, their two eldest children jumped up and down to get his attention.

“Asterion, look, Halsten and I match and Tilly–” Ursule, their daughter, looked around for someone.

“Their cousin is in town, and she’s very excited,” Catrin whispered. “Tilly is at home with the sitter tonight, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“Ah, well, you both look very smart!” And they did. The girl wore a long red skirt, in the orcish fashion, with thick black bands at the bottom, and her brother was a color coordinating version of their father. “No little one today, then?”

“Bjorn is much too young for a ball,” the boy, Halsten explained. “Suley and I are mature, but he would just make a scene.”

“I still made them outfits though!” Ursule piped back up, spirits apparently lifted. “They looked sooooo cute!”

A large man, who shared some features–other than the white hair and pale skin–with Catrin, walked up with a shorterwoman on his arm. She wore a long, flowing dress that had large, puffy sleeves in a bright peach that offset her warm skin and deep brown hair.

“I believe you’ve exchanged letters with my sister-in-law, Sirin?” Catrin said, with a hand toward the woman.

Asterion started, instantly excited. “Oh yes, Sirin, it is so lovely to meet you! Thank you so much for all your help!” He grasped her hand, shaking it up and down.

“Of course! I am always happy to help please another scholar! Did she like them? Will we get to meet her?”

“I think she did… she seemed to at least, though I’m unsure if she’ll be able to come tonight. I think the crowd might be–”

Young Ursule’s exaggerated gasp interrupted him and they all turned to follow her gaze.