A Husband for Deva

The Kissing-Ball

They changed the subject, speaking no more of uncomfortable things.

But in the afternoon, as Deva sat making a kissing-ball for the rooms she shared with her husband, Bekra twitched about the place with unnecessary straightening and tidying. When the straightening and tidying extended to the mistletoe and wintergreen and ivy on Deva's worktable, she put down the wicker frame of the kissing-ball, half woven with the greenery, and turned to her lady-in-waiting. "Bekra, is there something you'd like to say?"

"No, Princess." But Bekra's cheeks and the tip of her nose glowed with rosy embarrassment. "That is, you won't turn me into a skunk or a fox if you're displeased with me?"

Deva laughed. "No! It doesn't work like that. I – I'm not actually sure how it works, really. They want to teach me. But it's nothing bad. More like... opening a sort of window to talk to someone far away? I've seen that. And I... I broke Brialach's tunic lacing, but it was by accident."

"Really?" Bekra giggled. "He's a handsome man, your husband, even as pale as he is. You'll be dragging him under the kissing ball every chance you get, I expect."

"We need to finish making it first. Could you hold this here while I tie it in place? There." Deva tucked the cheesecloth sachet of aromatic spices and cedar shavings inside the wicker frame, where it was hidden by woven tendrils of ivy and clusters of mistletoe and holly. "Do you think we can hang it ourselves?"

"Probably," Bekra said, "but I'll find Jaiad and ask him to put it up for us. He's taller. And it should be tested as soon as it's up, anyway. To make sure it's a good height for a man to stand under."

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Brialach didn't see the kissing-ball until after supper. They'd eaten the evening meal downstairs in the Great Hall, and came up to their rooms in the late evening. The cedar and cloves and anise and wintergreen had scented the air, which smelled festive and wonderful to Deva.

As he sat to remove his boots, he sniffed the air and looked around. "There's something – a scent?"

"Oh, that's the kissing-ball! I made it this afternoon." Deva pointed to where it hung by the window. "Do you like it? There'll be a bigger one downstairs, but I think they're so pretty, and my sisters and I always made one of our own."

"Kissing-ball?"

"Yes. Don't you have them at home? Anyone who stands under it gets kissed. We used to try to trick Hal into walking under ours, so we could tease him by kissing his ears. That was Derisa's idea... mostly." The memory prompted a sigh; would Risa even be celebrating Midwinter in the desert? They must do something to celebrate the year's longest night there, surely.

"And anyone might be kissed under it?" Something in Brialach's voice made Deva look over at him. "Even another man's wife?"

"Well, yes, but it's just tradition – not, you know, romantic kissing. Girls who aren't yet courting get kissed on the cheek or forehead, as it wouldn't be proper otherwise, and a stranger or someone much lower in rank might only kiss one's hand."

"And where would the noble datárodhi of this place kiss you, Princess of Ilujavik? On your lovely mouth?"

She stared at him, aghast at his reaction to the holiday custom she'd grown up with. "I... I actually don't know. This is my first Midwinter as a married woman. But... it would only be a brief peck, wherever it should land. We don't – even married couples here don't show their... physical urges in public." She felt her cheeks tingle with embarrassed heat.

His noise of wordless disgust and frustration made her frown.

"Are you jealous? Is that the problem? That some courtier I've known my entire life might give me a quick public buss on the lips now that I'm wedded?"

He stiffened and turned his back on her, crossing his arms, but she could see the blush rising up his neck. Yes. Jealous.

"Why?" she asked, trying not to be offended at his turning away. "I can't think that I've given you any cause to doubt me."

"Miya nith branót," he muttered. "We know each other in body, but not yet in heart and mind. This will take time."

Deva huffed, and strode around to place herself squarely in front of him, tilting her chin up and fixing her eyes on his. "That's fine, but it's not fair of you to criticize my traditions and doubt my honor. I wasn't planning to stand around under any kissing-balls at all, except maybe to have you catch me under this one when we're alone. Still, it hurts me that you'd think there's anything shameful about – "

"Mae mahri. I should not have said anything."

Because silent jealousy would be so much better?  "No! It's fine that you admit to feeling possessive. As you say, we don't know each other so well yet."

"You confuse me. Do not say it, fine to say it..."

"Tell me when something bothers you, yes. Tell me when you don't understand something, when you feel uncomfortable, when you feel jealous. But you weren't doing that – you were assuming and judging and condemning. If you'd just asked  me to stay away from any kissing-balls..." Feeling suddenly cold, she turned away and crossed the room to stand by the fireplace, to warm herself and gaze into the flames.

"Deva."

For a moment she kept her back to him, but then he called her name a second time, and she turned her head. "Yes?"

He stood squarely underneath the ball of greenery and berries, with a wry smile. "I do not want you to stay away from kissing-balls, but I hope to be the only man under one with you, mae orchadhe." He held out a hand to her, waiting.

"Good," she said, then paused. "I want you to understand, if you see any lady under a kissing-ball and there's no other man close at hand, it's your duty to give her a kiss, at least on the hand or cheek. It would be an insult and a hideous embarrassment for her, otherwise."

He nodded. "And are you going to leave me embarrassed, standing here without a kiss?"

"No." She smiled, taking a step toward him and then another.

He raised his hands to untie the lacing of his tunic. "Come, wife, show me this tradition of yours."

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♥ I was not expecting Brialach to be the jealous type — were you? Is a little bit of jealousy acceptable and even attractive, or not at all? And what do you think of the kissing-ball tradition?

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