Rolling out the tension in my shoulders, I eyed the door.
How many times in the past century had I been nervous?
And why now?
The temple would have prepared Deirdre for tonight.
We didn’t have to speak, and if I focused on something else, it could be over quickly.
Another knock on the door and I took off my shirt, throwing it over the nearby chair. “Enter.”
Three priests shuffled in, their heads bowed, all of them in their traditional green robes and viny headdresses. The youngest of the order carried a ball of incense that he swung back and forth, bathing the area in frankincense and turning my bedroom into some sort of religious temple. Each one spread out around the room, finding a spot where they had a perfect view of the bed.
The tradition of consummating in front of these old fae had been part of our ways for centuries, and not just in the fae, but in all the races of Saol. Making sure the king and queen were joined as one on their wedding night was critical to solidifying the marriage. A ridiculous practice that didn't change the tattooed symbols bonding Deirdre and me together.
The ivy ran along my right arm all the way up and across my chest where the star-shaped rose bloomed right over my heart. Ididn't know what I expected when we wed. My mother's tattoo was a simple rune on her hand. I wondered if this new design would be permanent like the tattooed tree on my back or if it would disappear by morning.
Any scars or cuts that I gained always disappeared by dawn, unless they were crafted with a magic deeper than my immortality or I had them before I became immortal like the tattoo the dryads inked into me, allowing me to call on them from any tree I touched.
The priests conversed among themselves.
A bead of sweat slid down the back of my neck and I kneaded the tension in my shoulders while I paced beside the bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this nervous.
“She comes,” one whispered.
I stiffened, my chest tightening, my thoughts going still.
Deirdre stepped into the room clothed in a silky silver gown and white robe, the wide hood covering most of her face as she walked into the bedroom with her head down.
I must’ve breathed too heavily at the sight of her because she lifted her head, her dark eyes finding mine.
A dusting of shimmer coated her cheeks, and her long ebony hair trailed down the front of her chest.
The respectable thing would have been to greet her, yet I stood there, my mouth agape like a fool.
Her handmaiden followed in behind her, though Liora wouldn't stay for the festivities.
Deirdre walked past the priests to the other side of the bed, taking two steps up the platform. The servants had pulled the fern-colored curtains back on my four-post bed, giving our audience a clearer view. Her handmaiden whispered to her, and Deirdre nodded, allowing her servant to take her robe. Liora draped it over the chair in the corner, then left, closing the door behind her and leaving us alone with the priests.
The elder priest who I tended to clash with leered at Deirdre, his gray eyes almost gleaming with wicked intent. If hecontinued to gawk at her anymore, I’d throw him out, regardless of any ridiculous tradition.
I didn’t trust any of the priesthood. Not since the moment they’d arrived at court after my father’s death.
Turning my attention back to Deirdre, I wondered what ran through her thoughts.
With her arms hugging her middle, she stared at the bed, waiting for an invitation. I grabbed the covers and pulled them back.
We both sat on it.
My heart raced.
We hadn't even kissed and now I’m supposed to…
This shouldn't be that difficult. I'm the king. This is what kings do.
Deirdre lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
I really wished those priests weren't here. Should I say something to her, ease her into this, or is it better to get it over with as fast as possible?
