Instead of questioning, Jocasta simply nodded, and that made it easier to talk. “Love gives someone such control over you. It’s not wise, is it?”
“No, not unless it is someone you trust. Someone bound to you so tightly that what hurts you hurts them. They would only want what was best for you and your kingdom.”
He said it without thinking. “You are what is best for me and my kingdom.”
When she beamed at him, the warmth of a spring that would never bless his land in her smile, he was glad he couldn’t take the words back.
“Stop!” Idry silenced the chamber orchestra. “They have played that through three times. You know... I think it’ll work! The look of utter devotion, the way you two are so in love, and so lost in each other’s gaze... Yes! Yes, this is boring, but very effective. I think it conveys the right spirit, sire.”
“It wasn’t boring!” Jocasta burst out.
“Boring but very lovely,” Idry said by way of apology. “But be careful, sire. Are you ready for the entire kingdom to know you’ve found a bride?”
“What?” Girion barked. He could feel his muscles twitching, ready to burst into the form of a raging beast.
“Hm?” Idry looked at the conductor, who shrugged and looked at the musicians, who seemed confused.
“Does everyone in the palace think that?” Jocasta whispered, eyes huge in her luminous face.
“Yes, of course! Who else would don the late and most beloved Queen of Caledon’s robes?” Idry gestured to the gown and overlay Jocasta was wearing. “Why else would the Master of the Wardrobe have sent for thirty yards of white silk and asked the royal jeweler to come to lunch on Sunday?”
Girion felt the sharper teeth in his mouth lengthening still more.
Jocasta’s hand gripped his, and he could feel the sweat on her palm.
Everything in him raged, and then settled. Protect. Be her fortress. “It is all right, Idry. It is a secret, but not for long.”
“Ohh! Every congratulations!” he cried, and then put his hands over his mouth to muffle his glee. “May I choreograph a special wedding dance for you, sire?”
“No!” he and Jocasta shouted as one.
Idry let out another guffaw. “Ah, well, I don’t mind. Not when it is clear you are so perfectly suited.”
Perfectly suited?Girion’s face remained immobile, but his eyes slid to the side and caught Jocasta’s doing the same.
We are suited. Of course we are, or I wouldn’t have bartered with her, and she would not have accepted.
“I have to go and see what Nalar has chosen for me tomorrow night. It will probably be something that stains,” Jocasta sighed.
She took away her hand, and he was quick to take it back and tuck it into his elbow. “I will walk you to your chambers.”
HE WALKED HER TO HERchambers, left her with a mumbled thank you, and fled, yet the feeling of his presence stayed with Jocasta all night.
She soaked in the stone tub that was more like a cavernous hot spring, body restless, mind racing.
Everything ached inside. Her heart, missing her parents, missing her brothers, missing... Missing the idea that someday, someone would love her.
The ache persisted in parts of her that were usually quieted with a few fast rubs and a reminder that she needed to do something else. Tonight, she had nothing to do but worry and soak.
Jocasta’s fingers found their way between her legs, and Girion’s body pressed against hers in memory. His hand, grabbing her hip, only with her eyes closed and her lips panting out his name, he was grabbing both her hips.
His body calmed hers when she was afraid. Thoughts of him built a fire between her legs, then soothed it as she thought of him working against her, kissing her with that same hard grip, taking her with that same unrelenting force, and yet always with the promise, “you never need fear me, in any form.”
And suddenly her mind was spiraling, thinking of his Bear Folk form, white fur between brown thighs, the face so strange, but the eyes, always his, always the same piercing shade of blue, always bearing a single scar.
Her fingers bucked and wouldn’t stop, mimicking the force and speed she thought he would take her with. Her heart doubled in speed as she imagined every detail, the way her legs would strain under his weight, the way her womanhood would split and cling to him the same way it was throbbing on her fingers.
I’m not supposed to feel this way. Think this way. Act this way.
