We all discard our travel clothes and wash quickly with the pitcher of water that is expertly placed near the tub. I do not even consider the mess my hair must be; I just find my way to the great bed and climb into it. Wren and Chiron meet me swiftly there. The warmth of the room and the pleasure of my bonded nearby move me to comfort as we settle into the down mattress.
“What do you think? I know it’s overwhelming,” Chiron says, pulling me into his arms. Wren moves to curl in behind me, so I am locked between their two warm bodies.
I breathe deeply into my body. So many thoughts and emotions swim within me, I cannot untangle one from another.
“I think…I think I need to stay in this bed for a full cycle. With you both.” I say, pressing my face into his bare chest. Wren chuckles behind me, wrapping his lean arm around my middle and resting it on Chiron’s stomach.
“We have a night…but we have every night hereafter too,” Wren says behind me.
Chiron presses a gentle kiss to my brow, and I fall into a tranquil sleep…wrapped in the arms of my loves.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Vonetta
We wake early to a knock on the door of our inner chamber. The sunlight that shimmers in through the sheer curtains reaches the edges of our massive bed. Chiron rises first, moving swiftly to stand and tighten the thin strings of his loose night pants. He looks divine even to my sleepy eyes. The way they are almost sheer sends a thrill through me as I can see the hard outline of his morning erection very clearly. He looks from Wren to me, and then down to himself. A wide, smug grin spreads across his still sleepy face.
“None of that, you two…” He says, with a wink.
I turn back to Wren, who is equally as enraptured with Chiron’s body as I am. His cheeks are pink from being called out so, but he does not hide his lust from us. This version of Wren, who wants so openly? It is my favorite thus far.
I right my shift and sit up on the bed. Wren too sits up as the door swings open and our attendants come in.
Jessah strides into the room, excitement written on her face to see us here in the palace.
They all bow or curtsy and greet us. I learn now that Chiron’s man is named John, and Wren’s is Argos. John has served Chiron for several years, but Argos is new to the royal house.
Jessah and I greet one another with a fierce hug. I must admit that I quite missed her presence, even if it has been merely days since I saw her.
“My Lady, you look so happy. I was told that you took a wound on the mountain. Are you alright?” The concern that laces her voice is not unnoticed, and it stirs feelings of homesickness in me that I think I will never fully be free of.
“I am well, I promise. The healers have cleaned and bandaged them well, though I would like to greet the King and Queen without bandages if I can. I have missed you, Jessah,” I say to her, my hands on her forearms and looking into her young face.
“Let me show you your things, Lady. Surely we have paints that we can use to cover an abrasion. We must make ready, the Queen is looking forward to greeting you very much. I have missed you, Netta.”
Jessah leads me out of the bedchamber, but not to the small washroom off of it. That is for Wren and Chiron, she tells me as we walk into the great room from last night and pass through another doorway into perhaps the grandest washroom that could exist. There is a beautiful, ornate dressing table and an even larger wardrobe in this room. It is filled floor to ceiling with gowns, jewels, and shoes.
I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of clothing that exists here. On the table sits every manner of brush and hairpin I could imagine. Paints, in all shades of coals and rouges, sit in small pans there. I am skeptical of this, much to the dismay of Jessah.
“Lady, I promise, we will not overdo it. I understand that you prefer minimal adornment. You will be happy with the results.” I resolve to trust Jessah with this, as she has not yet steered me wrong.
The first thing I do is enter the bath, where it is already steaming and ready for me. Unlike the tub in the cabin of Nerine, this one seems to be built into the floor of the large room. It is stone instead of metal, and swirling patterns make it a sight to behold. Jessah washes my hair for me; the scented soaps give off an aroma that is both earthy and refined, reminding me of something the Lady of the Isle might use. After I have scrubbed all the dirt and grime from my skin, Jessah wraps me in a robe so thick and soft that I think I do not ever wish to leave it.
I'm sitting at the dressing table, and she works a bone tooth comb through my long black hair, coiling it with the end and letting it fall in waves down my back. She braids two pieces from the front and pins them behind my head. A simple style, but one I approve of immensely.
She inspects my healing injury before deciding on a color to paint over it. It is still slightly tender to the touch, but her delicate workings do not bother me much. She then covers that with a different shade, one that is nearly white, but with a hint of pink. She brushes at my face endlessly, but when I finally take the mirror she hands to me, I see that she has simply refined the features I already have.
Without knowing what I look like, you would not think I wore paint at all. She has hidden my wound beautifully. If not for the raised bump on my temple, I could not tell it was even there. Whatever artistry Jessah has done to me, I am pleased beyond measure.
She brings me a dark gown, so dark it is nearly black. It has beautiful silver embroidery along every hem and sleeve. The neckline is square, perhaps the most revealing one I have ever been adorned in. But it hugs every deep curve down to my hips, where it flares out, all the way down to my feet. I am a tall woman, standing at least two hand widths above most others, but the gown makes me feel delicate and regal.
Jessah offers me more dainty slippers, but I decline them.
“I cannot stomach these shoes, Jessah. They feel no better to me than being barefoot. My shoes will be hidden, and I will take my boots, please.” She looks incredibly dismayed by my decisions, but she does not argue it. When I am laced and ready, I pick out one necklace from the wide array of jewelry in the wardrobe. An amber pendant on a thin, silver chain that is shaped like a teardrop.
I return to my husbands, who have also been bathed and fitted in rich clothing. Wren looks incredible but uneasy in his fine emerald tunic and black coat with silver accents similar to my own. His face has been shaved clean of the scruff that had grown there, but his hair falls neatly, trimmed slightly, and brushed into submission for our introductions to the King and Queen. He looks truly like the scholar today, and a prince in his own right.
Chiron too, looks impeccable. He is dressed in deep reds and blacks, though he has many more adornments than either Wren or me. He has a silver chain around his neck and a silver hoop cuffed onto his ear. His dark hair falls effortlessly back, as if he had just run his fingers through it and it landed gracefully.
