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I wasn’t sure how to interpret his reaction. He seemed mixed, even a little doubtful.

“That is to say ... She’s not very friendly, especially with strangers. And women in particular.”

Oh. Perhaps I’ve gone too far? I fidgeted in my mare’s saddle.

“I just wanted to help, sorry.”

A wide, gentle smile crossed Paivrin’s face.

“Don’t apologize, Lady Ashana. It’s kind of you, but Kynnen will manage to convince her to wash.

He’s always had an easy time getting her to obey him.

Every year during the larvae period, she has to clean her coat with a soap of my own composition, because I don’t want these deadly parasites infesting her fur.

Her downy coat attracts them like bees to honey,” he completed with a sigh. “A calamity.”

The truth is, I was dying to be friends with Morgana. I thought she was so magnificent!

“Besides, it’s your honeymoon,” my husband’s brother clarified as we passed Kynnen.

Dovah grabbed the reins of his brother’s horse before addressing him without looking at him:

“Join us when you’re done.”

The cadet responded with a wave of his hand and a groan of a condemned man.

“Dovah will show you where you will sleep in the days to come, but for now, come and have some refreshments at my place. Those accompanying you can stay in my house. There are enough rooms for your attendants and the few guards. The page in charge of the horses has all he needs in the stable. It’s comfortable and heated. ”

Massim expressed his contentment with a delighted cry. He loved horses and staying with them was the greatest gift anyone could have given him.

Paivrin served us sparkling pink mangorot juice.

This kind of berry grew exclusively in Gulan, and it was fermented in barrels with a little sugar and yeast. I gladly accepted, even though I wasn’t very used to alcohol.

The taste was pleasant and mild, not at all as harsh as I had feared.

When Paivrin went to pour me a refill, Dovah’s hand covered my glass.

“I’d like my wife to be fully conscious tonight,” he whispered. “Not drunk.”

This time, I blushed and even felt my ears burning. Luanda and Marione gave me a knowing look that didn’t help my embarrassment. Paivrin gave a very masculine, throaty chuckle.

“Ah, I suppose so,” he commented. “Besides, I ...”

But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence, because the front door opened to reveal Kynnen, soaked to the bone. He was accompanied by the she-wolf, whose coat was beginning to dry.

He glared at our host.

“Your soap stinks! It’s a real infection! I’m going to have to detach my skin from my carcass to get the smell out!” the younger brother scolded.

Morgana seemed to have enjoyed this moment of relaxation. You could tell by the gleam in her tawny irises and the steady beat of her tail.

Paivrin smiled at him. Dovah didn’t express his opinion, preferring to remain silent and stare at me as if I were the only person in the room.

I fidgeted in my chair, nervous. I avoided meeting his eyes for fear of reading his burning desire.

When my husband let me know he wanted me, I felt a kind of ball of heat explode in my stomach.

I wanted to give in to his attraction, but at the same time, I was terrified of my own ignorance.

Morgana approached me warily. With her ears tucked back, her eyes told me how hesitant she was. I smiled gently, sincerely, and held out my hand for her to sniff my scent.

“Hello, Morgana. I’m Dovah’s wife and my name is Ashana.”

Her eyes widened in undisguised amazement, and truly, they reflected an entirely human intelligence.

I remembered Paivrin’s words, which implied that Morgana possessed another form than that of the wolf, and from what I could judge, it was more than obvious that this “other form” was that of a young girl.

I had once read a novel about shape-shifters, which I had relegated to the same rank as magic and the little people: creatures who lived only in the imagination of human beings.

Having seen it with my own eyes, I now knew that this was not the case.

Taming this meta-wolf was going to take time.

I wondered why she hated women more than men; usually, it was quite the opposite that occurred.

Dovah raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“You seem surprised that I got married. Did you think no woman would want me?”

Morgana responded with a sort of bark that wasn’t really a bark, a reaction that made everyone laugh. My husband stood up abruptly.

“Good. It’s been a long day. I’ll take Ashana to our apartments.”

I immediately followed suit, yet again avoiding his gaze. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that all I could hear was the sound pulsing in my ears.

Luanda and Marione also stood up, probably with the intent of helping me prepare for my wedding night.

“Would it be possible to have food brought to us in an hour?” inquired Dovah, before taking me by the hand.

“I’ll tell my servant to bring your meal to the cottage.”

The skin on Dovah’s hand was warm, and the texture a little rough, no doubt from daily use of the sword.

Once outside, we took a few steps, my chambermaids following at a distance to give us some privacy. Dovah stopped, then took hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger to encourage me to hold his gaze.

“You know that if you don’t want us ...”

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes briefly.

“ ... I won’t force you. We have time. We can take our time.”

I took a deep breath to give myself courage.

Yes, I was scared. Because I had no idea what to expect.

What I was supposed to do. Or not to do.

I hadn’t been brought up to be an accomplished wife; no one, not even my mother, had bothered to explain to me what conjugal duty consisted of.

I’d heard the castle servants talk about them, about these famous intimate relationships, sometimes—often—with a chuckle or using allusions that weren’t very clear to me.

Not to mention the fact that I hadn’t even had the curiosity to read any books on the subject. How I regretted it at that moment!

“Dovah, I don’t think there is any point in postponing this step in our married life.”

I wanted to talk to him about it. I wanted to ask him questions, lots of them!

To ask him to be gentle, because I was more afraid than anything else of being in pain.

Once, one of the chambermaids had complained about her back, saying, “It hurts almost as much as the time my husband deflowered me!” This phrase remained engraved in my memory, and today more than ever, my mind took a wicked pleasure in replaying it.

Dovah smiled tenderly at me, but what lit up his dark irises was as ardent as the embers of a fire.

“Alright.”

We continued on our way, and I was delighted to discover that the cottage was a smaller replica of Paivrin’s own home.

Surrounded by bright green vegetation, it looked like a cozy nest, and the interior decor only confirmed this impression.

The furniture was simple, made from raw wood.

I absentmindedly touched the back of one chair to feel its knots and ribs.

“Lord Dovah?”

It was Luanda. My husband turned in her direction.

“My lord, do you think it would be possible to ask your brother to have a bath prepared for Lady Ashana?”

“You could have expressed your request when I mentioned our meal,” he retorted.

There wasn’t a hint of reproach in his tone, but I had to admit I didn’t fully understand my maid’s approach.

“It’s okay, Luanda,” I began, stepping forward.

But she interrupted my advance with an imperious look. Such an attitude was so rare on her part that I was speechless with astonishment. What’s going on?

“We’d like to prepare your wife for the night,” intervened Marione in her shy little voice. “We also feel she needs a, uh ... woman’s talk, my lord.”

Suddenly, Dovah seemed to understand something important.

“Oh,” he only said.

With that, he turned to me, strangely embarrassed. He scratched his throat thoughtfully.

“After such a day, I imagine that a bath would do you a world of good. I’ll see to it. Paivrin doesn’t have an army of servants ... Understandably, he has no use for them; between Morgana and Grimson, that’s more than enough. Anyway, I’ll be back very soon to have supper with you.”

The next moment, he was out the door. In the cottage, there was only one room and no kitchen.

A large bed, with a soft quilt in cyan blue fabric, caught my eye.

As a child, I loved fluffing them up and then jumping on them.

I imagined myself falling on a cloud. There was also a rudimentary table, so charming that its slight defect could be overlooked, as well as two chairs.

My gaze wandered for a second to a large cupboard and the bookcases leaning against the walls.

I noted that there was also a water jug for washing, and a large wooden tub that could be used as a bathtub.

I also liked the smell that reigned this place, a mixture of wax and bark. It was truly a fairy house at human scale.

“Lady Ashana?” Luanda called softly.

I looked over to her.

“You wish to discuss my wedding night?”

I expected the worst. The more time passed, the more outrageous things I imagined. With a little perspective and calm, I’d realize that my mind was really going too far, I was sure of it. Or not.

Luanda patted the edge of the bed to encourage me to sit down.

“It is obvious that you’re innocent, but more than that, that you’re completely unaware of what’s going to happen on this bed in the next few hours. Come, Lady Ashana. Marione and I have had our share of love affairs, so if you have any questions on this subject, please do not hesitate.”

It was my turn to clear my throat, then, with measured steps that helped me concentrate without giving in to panic, I came to sit beside her. I folded my hands in my lap and, for a moment, I just stared at my nails, trying to organize my thoughts. Then I looked up.

“Is it painful?”

Luanda and Marione exchanged knowing glances. Clearly, they’d been waiting for this question. The former grabbed my hand and looked at me, smiling kindly.

“It all depends. I know women who suffered martyrdom when their man broke the barrier of virginity, and others who barely felt it.”

“The barrier of virginity?” I repeated.

Marione nodded.

“It is a thin wall, you know, here, on the inside,” she clarified, pointing to her crotch. “It proves that the woman has never been intimate with a man. He’s the one who tears her apart with his, uh ...”

She hesitated to use terms that might shock me and sought help from her colleague. Luanda shook her head, laughing.

“With his penis, Marione. With his penis. I think you can say the word, Lady Ashana is now a married woman and she’s going to get a good look at her husband’s, so ...”

Marione blushed, then hid a laugh behind her palm.

“They say you can tell the size by the size of the man’s hand!” she laughed. “I imagine Lord Dovah’s is ... a good size!”

My cheeks were on fire. Can we really know the size of a man’s penis by the size of his hand ? I wondered inwardly.

“I think that for tonight, your husband will take the lead. The most important thing is to trust him and not hesitate to tell him how you’re feeling or ask him to be gentle with you if you feel he’s, er .

.. he’s a bit too passionate,” Luanda explained.

“First, he’ll caress various parts of your body.

Above all, relax and let yourself be carried away by the sensations.

Avoid thinking. A head that thinks is a head that does not enjoy, believe my experience. ”

This avalanche of words rushed through my mind.

“You can also touch his body,” intervened Marione. “Men like it too.”

I put a hand to my heart. It almost burst out of my chest when I heard that sentence. I had to admit that I longed to touch Dovah’s face, his square chin, or his muscular torso. Sometimes, I even caught myself inhaling his particular scent; distinctive, warm, and spicy.

“At a certain point, caresses will no longer be enough for you,” Luanda continued. “Your body and his will demand more. That’s when he’ll penetrate you and break the barrier of virginity. If it’s painful, don’t hesitate to tell him, your husband will act in such a way as to make you forget it.”

She squeezed my hand briefly before releasing it.

“We have your wedding night outfit with us. You’re going to take a bath, put on this very special outfit we’ve prepared for you, and experience a unique moment with your husband!” she assured me with a broad, maternal smile.

Suddenly, I wondered exactly how big Dovah’s hands were.