“I expect you to sit beside me and pretend I’m being very clever, and I will pretend you are unspeakably enchanting,” he whispered. “Just as we discussed.”
“But you can’t ignore all these people. And isn’t that some terrible breach of manners to sit on someone else’s throne?”
“When you are my wife, I’ll have a new one made for you if you like.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
Girion pulled her away from where a little knot of eavesdroppers was beginning to congregate. “If the king requests you to sit somewhere, it would be poor manners to decline.”
“I think it depends on where he asks you to sit!” Jocasta bickered back in an undertone.
Girion knew she was saying she didn’t think she should sit on the throne, not until she was officially the Queen of Caledon, but he was surprised at what other images tumbled into his mind.
Sit on my lap, little wife.
At first, the images were clothed, her arms around his neck, their lips meeting.
And then his voice was deeper, huskier, and his hands were on her hips, her bare hips, guiding her down to his length. “Sit on me, little wife. Let me inside. Let me fill you. I want to make you feel so good, so wonderful—the way I feel around you.”
“Ah! Girion!”
Curses.He’d stopped in his tracks, frozen by thoughts and a sudden worry about walking.
Just long enough for Archduke Reynard and his wife and spawn to confront him.
“Enjoying the festivities, Reynard? Ah, may I present Miss Jocasta Waterman?”
Reynard’s eyes blinked too rapidly for Girion’s liking. “Waterman? I don’t know the family.”
“You’ll meet them in a week or so,” Girion said, his smile wide, his eyes cold and suddenly hungry.
“A mage. A human mage. How unusual,” the Archduchess murmured, her eyes brushing past Jocasta as if trying to look away from an unpleasant side.
“Which part?” Jocasta asked, tone even. “Being human, or being a mage?”
“Either,” said Lady Renata in a cold, clipped voice, her eyes sparking in fury.
“It’s true that there are fewer humans beyond Tundra Springs. Most live closer to the borders of Wyndwood. You—I mean your Prince, must have thousands of human subjects.” Girion kept the same measured tone as Jocasta, and he felt a tingle of warmth where her arm met his.We are a united front. The unbreakable bulkhead of this kingdom. Not even the Foxes with their pricking tongues will undo a single weld in our armor.
“I am certainly delighted to be in such excellent company where there are so many humans in positions of power. The fact that the entirety of Wylding is ruled by Shifter Kings causes uneasiness in some quarters—but not Caledon,” Jocasta said loyally, seeming to cling closer. She even tossed him what was supposed to be an adoring look.
It was very convincing. Too convincing. Girion had to swallow, and that gave Lady Renata time to loose another verbal barb.
“I suppose it is a rather quaint method of appeasing people, to put a commoner in among the nobles and betters.”
“Hm. Do you think that it’s a noble manner of thinking to place people’s worth based on the family they are born into?” Jocasta countered.
Renata nicks.
Jocasta maims.
“I am sure that is not at all what my daughter meant! We are most progressive in Wyndwood. Why, we are one of the few Kingdoms that insist that a ruler be wed before he can have the full rights as king. The value of a woman is unparalleled in our kingdom,” Reynard scrambled to repair the matter, but Girion was satisfied that enough of those hovering about him had overheard Renata’s insult and Jocasta’s volley.
“May I have the honor, Miss Jocasta, if it is permissible to you, sire? I wish to thank the mage and show off her handiwork.” General Raghnall appeared at his side and bowed.
“Of course,” Girion said, reluctantly letting Jocasta go into the arms of his most trusted general and the father of his dearest friend. “Perhaps I can tear myself away from our guests from Wyndwood long enough to dance with dear Lady Somerlynn?”
“If you can pry her away from Bishop Stoddard.”
