Intense pleasure accompanied his movements, and animalistic thoughts took over as he drove deep again and again. She met his every thrust as she gripped him, and he loved the way she hung on, even as she gasped and pushed, as if she would never let him go. Just as he wouldn’t ever let her go.
As they built toward their climax, they remembered the vision and clasped their sweaty hands together. Zings of magic swept through them as well as raw physical sensation. Their pace quickened, magical light bathing their damp bodies. As their breaths grew ragged with their frenzied need for release, the apex coming closer and closer, that magic seemed to fill the entire chamber. The divine artifact and even the long dead in their tombs anointed the living, approving of their joining and the creation of life.
With an explosive release, they came together, exquisite pleasure crashing over them both. After all the pain they had endured of late, it was wondrous, and Vorik kissed Syla as their bodies relaxed, satisfaction filling him in the aftermath. He lowered her to the ground, wishing they had soft furs to relax on, but he used his body to pillow hers and stroked her hair.
Slowly, the magic and some of the light died down, leaving them feeling alone together. Unmonitored. Maybe the gods had gotten what they wanted and no longer felt the need to manipulate and spy. He supposed only time would tell if Syla would become pregnant because of their joining, but there’d been a certainty when she’d spoken of it that made him believe it would happen. They would have a child, and he looked forward to it. He would teach it juggling and many other things.
“You were wonderful,” Syla murmured, her head settling on his shoulder. “Youarewonderful.”
“I felt the need to perform adequately,” he said. “I’ve never had divinely monitored sex before.”
“It was stimulating, but, maybe later, we can go to my suite and have private sex that’s entirelyouridea.”
“I’m most amenable to that, but, when the gods are concerned, can one ever have true privacy?”
“I think they got what they wanted and are probably done keeping an eye on us for a while.”
“Are you glad for that? For everything?” Vorik hoped she was, but she’d mentioned taking a contraceptive, which implied shehadn’twanted a baby. But maybe that had only been while their peoples were at war and the world had been in flux—in chaos.
“I am glad.” She lifted her face to meet his eyes. “For that and for you.”
“Will you allow me to name the baby if it’s a boy?”
“Are you trying to arrange the same deal with me as your dragon is with mine?”
“Yes. I believe he’s promising to bring Wreylith sword iglets to secure her agreement. What may I bringyou?”
“If you can find some juicy berries that haven’t yet gone out of season, I’ll make you a cobbler and let yousuggestnames for a baby, whether it’s a girl or a boy. But I want veto rights. You might have something weird in mind. Like naming the child after your loathsome brother.”
“That wouldn’t beweird. Jhiton has been a favored name among my people for many, many generations. There are myths older than the Kingdom about a great warrior called Jhiton who saved sailors from the wrath of epic storms spat by the sea god.”
“Pick another name, or you’re not getting a cobbler.”
“Perhaps one ofyourrelatives would be more agreeable to you.” Vorik knew she’d adored her father, but he supposed they should wait to see if she had a boy or a girl to decide.
“Perhaps,” she murmured, “I’ll make youtwocobblers.”
“Oh, good. You’re going to be a wonderful wife, mother, and queen.”
26
Syla watchedwith a smile as Vorik whistled and walked around the new Freeborn Faction camp on the west end of Castle Island. It was a mixture of coastline and rugged, rocky terrain that had never tempted farmers, but there were some relatively flat and open areas where the new inhabitants could try their hand at gardening. Of all the stormers, Chieftess Atilya’s people had shown the most interest in that, and Syla would be curious to see what they planted in the spring.
The late-fall wind that whipped in off the sea didn’t lend itself to thoughts of gardens at the moment, and she pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter about herself as Vorik walked from person to person, handing out wedding invitations. Technically, they were small jars of chocolate-hazelnut butter from Celena’s recently opened combination bakery and sweets shop. As Vorik had explained, since most of his people didn’t read and write, small gifts were traditional, rather than the wax-sealed calligraphy-filled cards that Syla had distributed to her friends, family, and the island lords.
“A winter wedding is an atypical choice,” Sergeant Fel said from her side, where he’d been looming and scowling at anyuninvited souls who wandered too close, “but I suppose I can guess the reason why.”
“To hasten the official union of our two peoples.” Syla extended her hand toward the Freedom Faction men and women and the huts they’d erected around a sheltered cove where they’d moored a few fishing vessels.
Theirs was the only tribe, if one could think of their coalition that way, that she’d offered land to on Castle Island. The rest of the stormer tribes had been given spots evenly distributed throughout the Kingdom islands, all near coastlines so it would be easy for them to paddle out to reach their dragons so they could go hunting. With a challenging smile, she’d looked Jhiton in the eye as she’d proclaimed that his Wingborn Tribe would receive the lightning-decimated lands around the volcano on Harvest Island. She’d included the forests to the south of it where the dragons had hunted the eliok and trusted his people could find spots to garden and practice animal husbandry, but she believed the significance of the choice hadn’t been lost on the general. He and his surly dragon had been entirely responsible for the battering of that land; now, they could be a part of healing it.
Vorik hadn’t minded; he’d been delighted that his tribe would be close to Castle Island, and he might have had delight in his eyes when he’d pointed out how easy it would be for him and Syla to visit his kin, especially his brother. Syla hadn’t said anything, but she distinctly looked forward tonotvisiting Jhiton.
“Yes, I’m certain that was the reason.” Fel wasn’t so pointed as to look at her abdomen, and, after so few weeks, she wasn’t yet showing signs of pregnancy, but Syla had shared the news with Tibby, Teyla, and a few others, so she wasn’t surprised that he’d heard. Given how often she and Vorik had shared romantic interludes with her bodyguard nearby, he probably could haveguessed even if she hadn’t said anything. “It suits me though.” Fel gave her a sidelong look. “I was thinking I might retire after seeing you safely through your wedding.” He arched his eyebrows.
Asking if she would object? No, she’d been meaning to ask him if he wanted to go. It was just hard. As crusty as he was, he’d been such a faithful bodyguard—a faithful friend and advisor—along the way that she would miss having him around.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that? You’re not even sixty yet.”
