Page 21

By the time they left the market, Aurora was glowing.

She’d flitted from stall to stall, growing more confident—or perhaps caring less about what others thought—as time went on. And though she flashed teeth when smiling and pushed her horns and asked to sample every product a shopkeeper had to offer, Rhaego’s people seemed to be nearly as bewitched by her as he was.

For the most part anyway…

He’d had to direct a few angry glares over the top of her unsuspecting head at a couple pompous traders when they’d sneered at her odd questions. And he’d been sure to dig his hand deep into a barrel of tyfnu nuts before leaving one stall whose owner had admonished her for getting her human scent all over his hillia leaves.

The male had looked on in horror as his most expensive product had been infected by the blight. It wasn’t a crime for Rhaego to touch, only impolite. He found himself caring less and less, though, especially when it concerned his little doe.

The more time he spent with her, the more he realized there was a difference between having manners and being kind. Aurora might not know the rules of Tuvastan etiquette, but she was kind. Truly kind. It shone out of her like sunshine and helped to melt the frigid exterior of most Tuvastans she came across.

Farmers who prided themselves on their crop seemed willing to overlook her slights when she showed such eager enthusiasm for their products, gushing over the colors and smells and tastes until they were forced to fall in love with their own goods again.

Perhaps their leniency also stemmed from her status as one of the imbued. She’d revealed her gift while questioning a perplexed spice clerk as to which ground herb felt the most peaceful to him. The gossip had spread across the market like a flame.

Rhaego had dreaded this trip. Even understanding how much joy she’d derive from a market visit, he’d still shriveled a little inside knowing every Tuvastan would assume she was there because he needed supervision, because he’d failed in his previous selections. A mortifying situation for any husband.

But their mocking glances had quickly morphed into ones of curiosity, confusion, and even jealousy after she’d kissed him. His cheek still burned from it, and his mind swam with theories as to why she might have done it.

Had she realized she was expressing extreme satisfaction with her husband by kissing him? Or had she done it as a kindness for bringing her here? A platonic kindness?

Regardless of why she’d done it, he’d never walked through a crowd of Tuvastans with his head held so high.

“Are you sure I didn’t buy too much?” she asked for the tenth time. “It just seems so wasteful considering…well”—she shot him a meaningful gaze—“ considering .”

If Phirdo hadn’t left a few minutes ago to drop her purchases at the carriage, he’d have rolled his eyes.

As he now understood it, Aurora was uncomfortable accepting gifts, both his service and his money. She kept assuring him that she’d pay him back by making him food as though there was some kind of balance she were trying to keep.

“You should have bought more,” he argued. Though he’d urged her to buy every item she’d hemmed and hawed over, she’d restrained herself, much to the confusion of every Tuvastan within proximity. He knew she was also hesitant since they would be leaving very soon. But that didn’t matter. Cooking brought her joy, and the money was nothing to him.

He’d already instructed Phirdo to return to the market before joining them and purchase the items she’d eyed with longing but hadn’t bought. Perhaps he could put them away and pretend they’d been there in the kitchen all along so she didn’t feel any more indebted.

Aurora mumbled something argumentative under her breath and pursed her lips.

They stepped out into the eastern square, and the late-morning sun beamed against her pale hair. “How long until the luncheon?”

“Not long. As soon as Phirdo returns, he’ll escort us.”

They strolled by the shops in the square, and a window display of golden horn caps caught her eye. He followed closely to keep some slack in their binding ribbon. She’d often forgotten about the binding, skittering off in all directions and forcing him to leap after her so she didn’t rip her arm from its socket. He didn’t mind, though. He’d let her lead him to the bottom of the icy fjord if that was what she desired.

She stooped to examine a blue jewel-tipped set on a lower shelf. Though she had no horns to cap, he mentally noted the set, promising to return for them later. “What will you do while I’m in there?”

Rhaego stiffened. After a moment, he answered. “I’m going to see my mother.”

Aurora whirled around to face him, but she forgot to spin to her left. The movement forced him to step in close, nearly chest to chest, his arm between them the only barrier. Her neck craned up at him, and whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips.

Fever stirred in his belly when her lush chest began to rise and fall with quickened breaths. “Careful, little doe,” he rumbled, slowly lifting his arm in an arc over her head to untangle the fabric from behind her back. He should step back now. But his body sang with satisfaction the closer he was to her.

Aurora blinked down at the now slack fabric by their hands, brows lifting as she seemed to realize what had happened and why he’d pressed in so close. “Oh. Sorry.”

She stepped away, and he had to work very hard not to use the binding to pull her in again.

“You’re…you’re visiting your mother?” she said, her voice a little breathless.

“I’d like to convince her to join us, if I can.” A familiar disquiet rose in his gut, smothering his fever. How would his mother react?

Aurora’s gaze sharpened. “You think you’ll have to convince her?”

The truth was complicated, and he didn’t want to take the chance of upsetting Aurora after the happy morning she’d had. It wasn’t her burden. “This is the only home she’s ever known.”

“Yeah, but—”

A hushed argument nearby caught their attention, cutting her words short. Rhaego turned to locate the disturbance, and his fever stirred.

“Is that…” Aurora sucked in a small breath as she, too, recognized the young male a few shops over, arguing with his friend.

“You already lost your horn to that blight. Why chance losing the other?” his companion hissed.

The words were hushed, not loud enough for his bride’s human ears to hear, thank Goddess. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling on the binding in order to force Aurora to follow.

He tugged her along and watched out of the corner of his eye as the male pulled his arm out of his friend’s grip and rushed over to intercept them. Rhaego’s hackles rose, claws pulsing. If the male was attempting to provoke another fight, he’d lay him out quickly, even with Aurora tethered to his dominant hand. But he didn’t want her to see such things again. It had upset her the first time, and he’d been gaining ground with her since then.

“Good day,” the male yelled as he jogged over, closing the distance.

Reluctantly, they stopped. He kept his fevered gaze trained on the male, but he sensed Aurora stepping closer to him as though for protection and wanted to praise her.

“Good day,” the male said again when he was finally in front of them. Rhaego didn’t answer. His friend hadn’t moved. He lingered in the distance, watching with a scowl.

A phantom throb of pain in Rhaego’s healed stab wound spurred his fever to bubble. He took in the smooth edge of the young male’s horn. It’d been ragged when he’d broken it during the chase. He’d shaved it, starting the long process of regrowth with a clean base.

The male’s gaze landed briefly on Aurora, and he tipped his horns back respectfully.

“Good day,” she said, voice holding a slight tremble.

Rhaego couldn’t help the growl injecting his words with warning when he asked, “What can I do for you?”

Wisely, the male took a step back. “I…” He swallowed, seeming to gather his resolve. “I just wanted to thank you for a good brawl. I’ve always respected your skill, and it was an honor to compete against you for the lady.” Turning to Aurora, he added, “Your husband is a worthy male, no matter what others may say.” He peered back at Rhaego, jaw hard and eyes shining with sincerity. “I’ve always thought so.”

Rhaego stared, trying to identify the hidden slight but couldn’t. Was this male whose horn he’d recently ripped off giving him a genuine compliment? Him? The blight? “Uh, thank you. You held your own well. Not many have managed to drop in on me. My side still aches to think of it.”

“I was lucky,” he assured modestly, but he beamed at the compliment. “I’ve decided to train more before entering my next chase. The palace has offered me a guard position.”

“A fine position.” Rhaego nodded. It was a lie. Tuva was a peaceful city and had been so for many decades since King Yaskan had been throned. The palace guards trained well, but they rarely saw battle. If the young buck truly wanted to become a better fighter, he’d be better served leaving the city in search of mercenary work. But it felt callous to tell him so.

“Thank you,” he said, peering between them.

Rhaego shifted in place. It wasn’t often he found himself in pleasant conversation with another Tuvastan. He was unsure how to navigate this terrain. His lingering fever was also still aware that the male before him had sought his bride. Though he was keeping a respectful distance, it was hard to quell the aggression he felt at having the male so close.

“Are you ready to go?” Phirdo’s drawl pulled their attention away.

Rhaego exhaled, for the first time happy to see the steward. He glanced down at Aurora. “Ready?”

She nodded in answer.

Though always aware of her presence hovering near his right arm, Rhaego hadn’t studied her expressions during this conversation. He wished he had. She appeared to be rolling something over in her mind, but he couldn’t tell what.

“I won’t take any more of your time. I know you have a luncheon to attend.” The male spoke before Rhaego could offer his excuses. “I wish you both a fruitful heat.”

“What’s your name?” Aurora blurted as the male began to turn away. Rhaego felt like an idiot for not thinking to ask himself.

“Khurrik, my lady.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Khurrik .” She smiled, hiding her teeth.

As they parted and made their way to the grotto, a knot of tension tightened in Rhaego’s chest. Aurora was about to be taken from his sight.

Well, not taken. But it felt that way. His glands pulsed at the idea, urging him to burrow his face into the inviting crook of her neck before they parted and renew his scent upon her skin.

Phirdo peered over his shoulder, one large nostril flaring as he identified the new musk in the air. Rhaego lifted a brow, daring him to comment. He hadn’t yet scented any other male’s musk, which meant no one else’s glands had awakened yet. Rhaego didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed that his had roused so early. He peered at Aurora. How could they not with such a mouthwatering bride in reach?

They descended one of the two marble staircases that led into the grotto, along with a few other couples. He studied the pair a bit farther down the stairway, and a spike of shame reared inside him.

Whereas the female below walked behind her husband, Aurora walked at Rhaego’s side. Walking ahead of your wife while heading down stairs was the polite thing to do—if she tripped, she would fall forward into him. If they were ascending stairs, he should walk behind for the same reason.

“I should be in front of you,” he whispered to her before stepping ahead.

A muttered “Yes, you should” drifted from Phirdo close by.

Rhaego wanted to be annoyed with the male, but he was right. He’d been forgetting his manners lately. It was true that some customs were obnoxious and obsolete, but others, like this, were not. And if he had any hopes of winning her over he needed to remember to be a gentleman in all the ways that mattered.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, where guards and binding clerics waited to unclasp their ties. His poor bride’s features were calm, but he was growing to learn her expressions better and he could tell she was nervous. Though it wasn’t proper, he once again gave their binding a little tug.

She glanced toward him expectantly. “Don’t be nervous,” he said quietly.

Her hair bounced with her eager nodding.

The two binding clerics extended their hands when they approached, and Aurora held out her wrist as though reporting for duty. The boy eyed her but said nothing as he unclasped her binding. He handed the end to her. After a moment of confusion, she took it, holding the fabric between pinched fingers, her brows scrunching.

“Wrap the extra cloth around my forearm,” Rhaego instructed.

“Oh.” She eyed his outstretched arm and began wrapping the length of their binding around his wrist, then upward. Each brush of her fingers sent electricity skittering across his skin. When she was done, the binding cleric attached her clasp on his arm.

“Have an enjoyable luncheon, wife.” Aurora rocked back and forth on her toes a couple times, eyes riveted to the open doorway. Conversation and light music carried through. He leaned down to get her attention and assured, “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re done.”

Their eyes caught, and she blinked, perhaps not expecting his face to be this close. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered before her lashes fluttered and she met his eyes again. Oh, to live in a world where he could allow himself to believe she gazed at his mouth with the same hunger he did hers.

“I hope your visit goes well,” she breathed.

So do I. He gave her a tight smile, then watched her lovely rounded behind sway as she disappeared through the doorway for a moment longer than necessary.