His eyes narrowed, the cogs in his clever mind turning. “I know the queen. She wouldn’t just hand this over to me withoutexpecting something in return. What did you have to give up in order to make this happen?”
“My father’s lands and title,” I said simply, for I did not lie to him, ever. “I love my father, and I’ll forever be connected to the fae realm, but my allegiance is to you, my lord. Or shall I call you, my king?”
Vasil’s stern countenance broke as he shook his head and said with a reluctant grin, “You are mad.” He reached out to twist one pierced nipple through my shirt, sending another delicious thrill through me. “I should punish you for this, you foolish, sweet, sentimental boy. How am I to ever repay you?”
“Consider this my wedding gift to you, my lord. Every day we are together is a blessing from the goddess divine. And now, I have the pleasure, along with your other loyal subjects, of calling you my king. King Mercier of the Vasil Clan. Tell me, Your Majesty, what shall you give as your first royal decree?”
Vasil’s smile widened, turning positively predatory. “For my first act as king, I wish to plunder my spoils. Now, undress yourself immediately, my handsome, scheming prince, and bend over my desk so that I might plow that gorgeous, impertinent ass into oblivion.”
“Here on your very important papers, my liege?” I asked coyly.
“Right here. Right now. Forever.”
Chapter 25
Lord Vasil
Our first wedding ceremony was a private affair, held at an elvish temple dedicated to the Goddess Imogen and overlooking my Cysgodian Cliffs. There were only a few witnesses: my commander, cousin, and best friend Anika; her second-in-command Erlander along with a few of our household guards and servants; my cousin Sinclair; and Galen, who would accompany us soon after on our journey to the fae realm in order to reunite with his family. His beloved horse Fidget would be making the trip too.
In order to honor both our cultures, our second wedding ceremony was a lavish spectacle of grand proportions held in Queen Gwyneth’s Crystal Castle for all to see. The crowd was dizzying in its number and fervor, but I had my fae consort to ground me, and I appreciated the public acknowledgement of my new title. Mercier of the Vasil Clan, now King of the elvish realm. Now that it was public, there was very little the queen could do to take it away.
With that business having concluded, my husband and I were now heading toward our honeymoon destination, something I’d arranged ahead of time with the queen and kept as a surprise to Cedrych. We were making the journey in one ofher royal palanquins, since this site was only accessible by air. I’d forbade Cedrych from even peering out the curtained window until we arrived, delighting in his frustration, until at last, our attendants informed us that we were swiftly approaching.
“All right, Cedrych, now you may look,” I told him.
Ever the eager puppy, Cedrych pulled back the palanquin’s curtains to gaze upon the lands below. The manor was stately with pale stone walls veined with ivy and tall, arched windows that caught the sunlight in shifting iridescent patterns. The manor’s architecture was a series of graceful curves–balconies that resembled leaves unfurling to the sun, turrets that tapered into blossoms, and stairways spiraling around the structure like vines. All of it lending the manor a whimsical air.
“Bivenbriar?” Cedrych said with a mixture of astonishment and delight.
“I thought you might want to visit your father’s lands one more time before moving to the elvish realm.”
“Mercier,” he said, gazing at me with tender affection.
“Are you pleased?” I asked, for that was my missive with regard to my new husband and royal consort.
“I’m very pleased. I can’t wait to give you the tour,” he said before planting a wet and exuberant kiss on my lips.
The staff of Bivenbriar welcomed us both with open arms. Many of them, having served when his father was alive, were delighted to see the prodigal son returned home. There were tearful reunions all around and the recounting of many fond memories from when Cedrych was a lad. I listened attentively, for the subject of Cedrych Avondale of the Vasil Clan was one I loved to study.
The manor itself was several stories high with an open courtyard in the middle, meant to be navigated by flight, which made exploring a bit slower for us, since we had to take the stairs. A fountain in the shape of a gryphon was the centerpieceof the courtyard, surrounded by a pond dotted with water lilies—according to Cedrych, their petals only opened under a moonglow. Interspersed throughout the pale gravel walkways were a riot of native flowers–poppy, bluebells, heather, and foxgloves–all being visited by industrious honey bees.
Cedrych showed me his room as a lad, the billiards room where his father taught him to play cards, the window ledge where he’d first tried to take flight but had slipped and cut his chin–a faint scar still remained, giving him a roguish look.
Once the tour had concluded and the cooks and servants were off preparing an elaborate homecoming meal, Cedrych led me through a field of wildflowers where more bees buzzed merrily, to a nearby creek in a lovely shaded glen. Cedrych skipped stones across the water while I admired the fresh bite on Cedrych’s neck. No longer a betrothal bite, this one spoke of my ongoing commitment to my beloved. Cedrych regaled me with more happy recountings of his youth. I gathered this was where he and his father retreated from palace life and the demands of the crown.
“Goddess, I love this place,” Cedrych said with a longing I wished to quell.
“I’m glad, my sweet prince, because it is yours,” I said mildly.
He turned toward me, blinked a few times, and asked me with gravity, “Mine? What do you mean, it’s mine, Mercier?”
I smiled faintly, amused by the occasions Cedrych chose to address me by my first name, especially in this moment.
“Well, my husband, I convinced your mother to return your lands and title. Consider it a wedding gift from me to you,” I said, repeating his own words back to him.
“You did what? How?” His expression turned to one of dread. “Goddess help us, what did you have to give her in exchange?”
I leaned over and kissed him, partly to settle him and also because I wanted to. He gave himself to me freely, fully, never holding back his affection.
