A Husband for Deva

Saying Something

A need to visit the privy woke Deva. Or had it been a noise that woke her, followed by awareness of her need? She grumbled to herself, reluctant to leave her cocoon of coziness. As she stretched a leg toward the edge of the bed, steeling herself for the cold air, her shoulders pressed into the solid male body curled around her.

My husband.

He'd visited her through the mirror as an ethereal phantom, half solid, then fading away into mist. He'd never stayed. She'd never awoken with him beside her, until now. And in wintery Ilujavik, where hot bricks and heavy blankets could only do so much against the chill of the stony old Fortress, the body heat of a lover's bare skin felt good.

Bare skin! Deva felt about for her chemise, but only found bed linens, and her hand brushed Brialach's thigh, prompting him to snuggle closer in his sleep. Really must get to the privy.

And then she heard the soft hinge-squeak of the clothing press being opened.

So startled she nearly wet herself, Deva popped her head up out of the blankets-to be met with Jenia's sugary smirk as the lady-in-waiting patted the stack of fresh linen she'd just placed in the press.

"Good morning, Princess Deva," Jenia said in a soft voice, with a darting glance at the sleeping Islander in the bed. "I brought your things up so you wouldn't have to wait for the laundry maid. And I've gathered away your clothes from last night; honestly, I can't think how you ripped your smock so dreadfully. I'm not even sure if it can be mended." Pursed lips didn't do much to mask her titillation.

"You can't?" Deva grinned, remembering the wild storm of sparkling wind. "This is my wedding night, after all. I would have thought you'd wait below until I rang for you."

"Well, I brought up a can of hot water so you could wash."

"Because I'm so... dirty?"

That made Jena dither a bit. "Er, no... uh..."

Deva sat up in the bed, barely keeping the sheet up over her breasts. "That's enough. Find me a robe, or I'll get out of bed as I am. We need to talk."

Jenia scurried to get Deva's chamber robe, eyes wide. "Princess Deva, you know I'm only wishing to be helpful."

"I've seen you put on your angelic face for my mother; you don't need to try it with me." Deva wrapped the woolen garment around her upper body, then heaved herself from the bed. The temptation was strong to put on her torcha and bandhi so she could make some violet sparks to frighten Jenia.

The wide-eyed look disappeared from Jenia's face, replaced by a sharp and curious expression. "You're different this morning."

"You think so?" Deva marched over to a pair of armchairs by a window, a good distance from the bed. "Sit. I need to visit the privy. You will be sitting here when I come back, in silence, with your eyes fixed out the window. Prince Brialach does not like to be observed when he is undressed."

"Yes, Your Highness," Jenia murmured, and when Deva returned minutes later, the lady-in-waiting was sitting obediently as directed.

The walk down the hall to the privy - and the icy air that rose from the stone shaft there - had calmed Deva and put matters into perspective. She sat down across from Jenia, looked into the lady-in-waiting's antagonistic little face, and asked, "Jenia, are you happy? In this position, I mean. As my companion."

"Happy?" Jenia blinked, as though unclear on what the word meant. "It's an honor to serve the royal family of Ilujavik."

"There are many ways you could do that, many positions here in the household, or you could go to one of my sisters if you wanted to see another land. In this particular role, you spend most of your time with me, and I'm not sure you're happy about it. Especially now that Brialach is here."

"I... I never said that."

Deva grimaced. "You called him a foreigner. I heard you."

"Well, he is one."

"He's an Islander, sure. But you make it sound unpleasant."

Jenia huffed. "You're not being fair. Just because no decent Ilujavit man would have you so they had to send away to get you a husband, I'm at fault for not being accustomed to strangers?"

"It's not a question of fault, Jenia. We just don't suit each other. We see the world differently." You're always picking at me with barbed pious words and little tricks, and I... I'm learning magic. "I'm going to tell mother that now I'm married, I should have a married companion, perhaps one whose husband wishes to serve Brialach."

That got Jenia's attention; she shot to her feet, mouth agape, looking slightly ill. "You can't do that! How will I hold my head up?"

Deva stood too. "I'll ask mother to find you a respectable position in the household. You won't lose anything." And when Jenia opened her mouth - to argue, to complain, to say something nasty - Deva just shook her head. "That's how it will be, Jenia."

Jenia dipped a half-curtsey and gritted out, "Thank you, Princess Deva."

"You may go now. As you pass the kitchen, please have someone bring up a pot of chocolate and some breakfast pastries, if you would." Deva smiled. It was doubtful that Jenia would bother, but one never knew.

As Jenia slipped out of the room, Brialach sat up, his hair tousled with sleep. "Did I hear you say chocolate?" he asked, with a broad lazy smile.

"Yes, though I might have to go down and get it. Why, do you drink chocolate at home? Do you love it as much as I do?"

"We import it from Quemadra, as I imagine you also do here. And yes, I find it delicious. But you are sweeter than chocolate, orchadhe."

The world seemed all at once painfully bright and beautiful, the winter sun streaming in at the windows like a blessing from the sky. Deva's heart beat fast and loud.

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♥ Deva settles things with Jenia at last! Yay! But is she tough enough about it? Getting transferred to a different position isn't all that harsh...

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