Page 13 of A Minotaur Tale
There, descending the stairs, was the woman of his dreams. Cora took the stairs slowly, her face apprehensive as she scanned the crowd. The gold pearls of her gown sparkled in the light, and Asterion’s breath caught at the sight of her. He’d spent a good deal of time negotiating with her modiste on just the right style, and looking at her, she was every inch a goddess descending to earth. She’d done her hair up in twists with delicate combsand something that caught the light of the ballroom.
When her gaze swept to him, and then she smiled? Asterion’s breath was stolen and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. She was a vision. A vision that was apparentlyhappyto see him. As if feeling the many eyes she’d drawn, Cora hurried down the steps. She scurried over to him, eyes frantic though she smiled and nodded her head, avoiding conversation until she grasped his arm.
Her heart beat was a tattoo against his arm, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen as lovely a look on anyone’s face as the relief that washed over hers as she grasped him. With her other hand, she pressed her hand to her cheek, which had flushed a becoming shade of pink.
There was some primal thing inside him which seeing her in clothing he’d given her satisfied. The deep red, he was pleased to see, offset the veining in her skin so that the gold shone. The golden pearls in intricate patterns of embroidery, recalled the complex natural geometries of the shells she so loved. The upper edge of the dress mimicked a seashell, scalloped along the tops of her breasts with tucks of folds that gathered to a point at her waist.
“Oh Cora!” little Ursule exclaimed. “I wanted you to see my dress, but look atyours!I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful!”
“Nor have I,” Asterion said, looking down at the woman who had stolen his heart.
“I have! Just look at this cavern, Asterion, it’s —well, just gorgeous!” Cora blinked, sputtering as if perhaps overwhelmed, but Cat and Torstens saved him, making introductions to their family. Cora nodded and said her hellos, all the while clinging to his arm like a lifeline. She had pretty manners, his mate, and as he scanned the room, he noticed a good many people admiring her.
Mate. He’d not yet allowed himself to think of her that way, not until he’d affixed his ring around her middle.
The thought of it, dangling between her legs, between stockinged thighs that he had wrapped in the softest gossamer silk. His mouth watered at the thought, of her wrapping those stocking clad thighs around his head, of peeling them off her to reveal her smooth, cool calves and ankles. It was no wonder her skin reflected the marble from which she'd been formed, she was as perfect as a statue. A testament, a celebration of virility and grace.
The warmth of Cora’s hand left his arm and she drifted toward Sirin, hands waving as theother woman nodded.2 Berne, Sirin’s partner, caught his eye and winked. “Birds of a feather, ey?”
“I suppose so, yes,” Asterion was enraptured, as he always was, when she grew excited. Her face lit up and her lips moved as if she could hardly contain them. They migrated to the side of the room when the dancing began, and Berne and Asterion took turns fetching their ladies’ drinks, but it seemed they were content to talk about their passions for the whole night. Asterion would have felt neglected, if it weren’t for the many small touches that Cora made, as if attempting to reassure herself he was still there. They were subtle things, a hand on his arm, leaning back into his chest, but each one sent a message.I am comfortable because you are here, they said. After a good six dances or so, Asterion decided it was his time. Berne nodded over his wife’s shoulder as Asterion tapped on Cora’s.
“Hmm?” she asked, immediately turning to him as if part of her attention had been focused on him theentire time.
“I wonder, might I have this dance?”
Cora shivered and nodded. It was a waltz, so it was one of the easier dances, and Asterion was certain that even if she didn’t know it, he could simply lift her up and no one would need know.
Asterion wrapped his arms around Cora, and his heart warmed at the way she leaned into him, like she was deriving strength from his presence. Her hands shook, nonetheless, her eyes frantically darting around the room.
“Eyes here, sugar plum,” he said, tipping her chin up to him. “Ignore everyone else. It’s just you and me here. None of them matter. This moment is for us.”
The music started up, the strings of the orchestra filling the room and buoying Asterion along. Cora seemed flustered as she followed–maybe she really didn’t have much dance experience–but he was able to get them started on the right foot regardless.
Her eyes never left him, and in moments, the world had shrunk for him, too. The crowd was nothing but a blur behind her as they twirled across the floor. The lighting, which he’d spent hours choosing and getting just so, no longer mattered except how it caught on the gold of her hair and the pearls on her dress.
1. Orcs call these hats txapelle, which can be difficult for outsiders to say, but the cap is extremely meaningful to them. As best we can tell, it is an element of Orcish culture unsullied by Pathian influence, and as such, became a symbol of their fight for freedom that they could wear even under the Empire’s noses.
2. At times, it is odd to write about oneself as if from an outsider’s perspective, but I have also found, in my years of doing so, that it can be incredibly enlightening. Had I never written these books, for example, I might never know how meaningful our conversation was to Cora.
Chapter seven
Though she’d not wantedto attend this ball, what little girl didn’t dream of being whisked across the floor, the envy of everyone, in the arms of some gorgeous suitor? Asterion’s chiton matched the red of her dress, and there was a large, gold medallion at his shoulder depicting the crest of his people. He danced her across the floor, her feet light and effervescent in a way she’d never felt. She knew, nominally, how to waltz, she’d learnedon the tops of her father’s feet, and with such a confident partner, it came back to her. It wasn’t easy, per se, but it was at least fun.
As Asterion led her through a turn, she could feel his chain where it hung between her legs, swinging and tickling against her. Her skirts floated around her, and she smiled, noticing the sprig of mistletoe he’d tied to his horn.
“I see even your horns are festive tonight,” she teased.
“Of course!” He smiled, his ears wiggling. “It’s a minotaur thing. Obviously wearing a sprig on one’s horns is seen as bad form on any other night, but on Yule? We have a bit of leeway. And really, can you blame me? Very few people here actually know about the kissing tradition, but the only one I care about does.”
“Does that mean you are looking for something?” All the spinning must be making her dizzy, or maybe it was simply being with Asterion. Her stomach was a mass of nerves but there, with him, everything felt just right.
On their next turn, Asterion leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Yes,” he said, stealing a quick kiss on his way back.
“Very sneaky.” Cora couldn’t help blushing, nor the silly smile that graced her face.
When the song came to a close, Asterion bowed and she curtsied. They kept eye contactthe whole time, and the giddy feeling that had been building in Cora’s chest all night was fit to burst.
Asterion held out his hand for hers, and she allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. He walked back toward their friends but pulled her aside before arriving.