His hot mouth nips at my jaw, no hesitancy to be found.
“Are you going to come for Chiron, sweet girl? Let me see you come,” He says before taking my earlobe into his mouth.
Whatever happened to Wren on this mountain? I am a prisoner to his carnal words.
The building pressure in my belly bursts, and I cannot help the cries that flow from me because of it. My body shakes, first just in my legs that are draped over Chiron’s broad shoulders, the pressure moving from my thighs to my stomach. I can feel myself—my pussy clenching around Chiron’s fingers.
The pressure of his tongue increases, but his pace slows, allowing me to ride the wave of pleasure that crashes into me. The intensity does not cease; it only ebbs and flows until I am a sobbing mess on the floor of the chamber. I am overcome with shivering from my release. Never have I experienced something so transcendent as this. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, seeking control over my wayward body. Chiron moves to lie next to me once more, petting and shushing me, wiping my tears with the backs of his fingers.
“You did so well, Netta. You came so good for us.” Chiron whispers into my cheek.
Wren joins him in his praises, “I love you, sweet girl. You’re so precious to us.”
I fall back into my sleep with their hands clasped across my belly.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Vonetta
We’re met at the mouth of the cave by a carriage and many, many people: two guards, two drivers, and two healers. Wren instructs them to check me over, and they prod at my shrinking wound and make compresses while Chiron and Wren recount my accident in great detail to them. My husbands are practically mother hens today, and I do not know what to make of this.
I sit still as they clean and bandage my scrapes and the larger wound at my temple. First, they wipe alcohol over the wounds that sting considerably, and I grimace at my two worrying men as they fuss about this.
The healer asks me questions to ascertain if I am coherent, which I find myself to be quite indignant about. Yet still, I answer patiently. As the Queen to be, my health and well-being are of great importance to Elemyr. I try to be patient with them, and they finish their work.
Wren and Chiron procure us fresh clothes sent from the capital and provisions. We eat near the cave, and it bolsters me considerably. Throughout our time on the mountain, salted meat and the little bit of water Chiron carried with us felt inadequate and unnecessary. We were a bit busy fighting for our lives to make it up there.
“Chiron, will there be much fanfare as we enter the city? I don’t think I’m entirely ready for that,” Wren says to him, leaning back against the wall of the mountain at his back. Chiron’s mouth is near overflowing with bread, his hunger clearly getting the better of him.
“No, actually. We’ll enter the city late today and through the back gates at that. We’ll have time to prepare and rest. The first introductions will be made with my parents,” He says around his meal.
His parents. I’m going to meet my husband’s parents.
Just another one of those things I had never truly considered, until now. Vestera may have been like a mother to me, but a father? I have no concept of this.
“What are they like, your mother and father? Tell us what we should say, what we should do when we meet them?” I ask him, folding my hands in my lap and clasping them tightly.
Chiron’s eyes soften to me, amusement fading into tenderness.
“They will love you, as I love you,” He says to me, leaning in and placing a sweet kiss on my bandaged head before continuing. “My parents are great, truly. My father is a wise man, a just King. He taught me everything I know. My mother is beautiful, regal, but warm. She will truly love you both very much. They’ve spoken of my Trinity to me since before I can remember; they are incredibly excited to have you both.”
We spend an hour or more sitting beside the great peaks, feasting and chatting with one another. The air between us is both light and heavy with everything we have shared between us these last weeks. It is hard to be nervous about what is to come when I know in my heart sits the bond we forged together, infallible now against any trial, because we have already completed the ones that matter.
Wren and Chiron sit to be checked for any wounds, of which neither has any. We pack up our small possessions and take our places in the carriage. I open the curtains that sway behind my bench and watch the mountains recede behind us, the bright beacon flaring against the morning sky.
“I imagine we will be taken to our rooms right away; our attendants have been instructed to set them up. We’ll have a chance to clean up and rest. Tomorrow, I’ll give you both a tour of my—our home before we do formal introductions.”
The way Chiron says that last part makes my cheeks heat. Our rooms, our home.
The large wheels of our carriage roll loudly down the worn path from the great hills to Ilyora. The sky is bright blue, and the weather grows warmer the farther away from the peaks of Caelestis we go.
We stop to water the steeds that pull us and stretch our legs at the river before crossing over into the outskirts of the city. Chiron narrates our journey along the way. I feel as if we are on a tour of his lands for the first time since coming to Elemyr. For the bulk of our journey, I was a passive traveler from one place to the next– homesick and unsure of my place in this world. Somewhere along the way, through our trials to secure its bounties, I grew to know it keenly. As I watch out the window of our carriage, I think of all the places we have been since I set foot onto the small barge to leave Naedra’s Isle.
When we do finally reach our destination, night has fallen over the city like a blanket, the warm glow of lamps visible in windows on small and large homes alike. They do not know their prince has returned to them; they do not know the Trinity has arrived. We are brought to the massive stables to the west of the great castle. Even in the darkness, the great structure towers above us, bidding us to come. The horses are detached from the carriage and taken into their stalls. Chiron greets the stablehand warmly with a hug and introduces Wren and me to him.
“Byron, this is my wife, Lady Vonetta, and Wren, my husband. Netta, Wren, this is Byron, master of the stables of Ilyora.” His grin is wide, full of pride to introduce us this way. Though I feel disheveled from our trials and travels this day, Chiron’s warmth continues to move in me as we greet the stableman.
“Hello, Byron. It is good to meet you. Your horses have traveled long to meet us, thank you.” I dip my head to him, offering my gratitude to the burly man. He appears to be no older than I, but is taller and wider than even Chiron is. He has flaxen hair and dark grey eyes, by this light. His wide nose sits prominently on his face, a little crooked by my sight. His smile is jovial, and his greeting feels genuine.
