As we enter the great hall, I see Edeva's eyes light up. That's right; she's been here before. I imagine memories flooding in to the forefront of her mind of her time here as a child. The banquets, the birthday parties in her honor, the dancing with her father, all of these while I was training with Anselm in Jean's summer estate, preparing to take it all from her. A lot has changed in the last twelve years, of course. The blue and gold drapery is replaced with red, any decor with Henry's name was replaced with my own, and so on. Right now, Jean has outdone himself. When he planned this to be a celebration for a long awaited execution, I'm sure it was more dressed down, but for a wedding, he has the tables around the hall dedicated to any and all types of food. Succulent meats flank the front entrance, cakes of all colors and sizes along the walls, and no shortage of pies. I know how much the man loves celebrations... and pies.
I assist Edeva in to her seat beside mine; at the front before a large table where gifts from the court have been strewn out. I regard none of them because I do not care, but my bride smiles and graciously accepts anything handed to her. Each courtier introduces his or herself and wishes us a happy marriage. None of them let us know whose side they're on. Down below, Anselm walks with Edeva's stepsister Gisela, who is no longer dressed as a maid but in a brilliant red gown with black diamonds adorning her neck. I agreed with Jean that, for today, she look the part of a queen's sister even if they are not related by blood. Anselm follows behind and shoots a glare at any young nobleman who goes near her. When Edeva first noticed this, she seemed worried, but calmed once she realized the man is like an overprotective father to anyone who might need it.
My attention continues to move over the floor. The Court dances for our pleasure. Most of the men are wearing black and red to honor my house, while the women are in all sorts of colors and decorated with so much jewelry I am surprised they are not more muscular with all that extra weight they carry. And the fans to keep themselves from sweating are ridiculous. It is warm in here, and while the dark magic within my bones keeps me cool, if it didn't I still would never allow myself to be seen with one of those gaudy things . I consider offering a dance to Edeva but think better of it. I am sure she can dance as well as any other lady, but dances have changed since she was last here and I doubt she learned the new ones in that cabin.
My bride picks at her food. It is better than what she was given to eat in the dungeon, and I have no doubts better than whatever gruel they were cooking up in the woods. She must be still flustered. The sun is dipping behind the windows, casting the hall in an orange glow. Evening fast approaches. And with that, the consummation ceremony. That is something I cannot wait for. The chance to truly make her mine, not just in name and title. The possessive feeling comes over me again.
"I would like to know something," I finally say after staring at her for who knows how long. She looks up from her plate and regards me nervously.
"Yes, your highness?"
"Alekso."
Edeva manages a little smile as I correct her. "Yes, Alekso?"
"How did you stay hidden all this time, despite the forests surrounding that cabin being so close to a busy town like Adrimar?"
"Oh, well... I kept my head down and covered my hair, and if I needed to go in to town, I would be accompanied by someone who spoke instead of me so no one would be able to see my eyes. Most townsfolk wrote me off as shy."
Kazaxon grunts. Must be quite a boring bunch of people to not cast one glance her way and wonder why she never looks at them...
My eyes narrow. "That will only take you so far, Edeva. People must have known your true identity. Members of the local clergy, perhaps? You told Godric your mother is buried in the cemetery. They surely would have recognized her and alerted my kingsguard, but they did not."
"I..."
"Who helped keep you from me, Edeva?" I reach out to grab her wrist, pulling her closer. "If you have names, you would do well to surrender them to me."
I see the fear start to creep in to those pretty lavender eyes of hers, but I push on. This possessive feeling demands it, though I disguise my actions as more politics. "If Adrimar is full of traitors to the crown, I will see them all punished. Or, if there were only a select few..."
"They were just trying to protect a little girl," She finally says, her voice barely higher than a whisper. "They were not rebels or loyalists to my father. I never heard any cries to reinstate me to the throne. They just... they just let me be."
For a moment I continue to pin her with my gaze, feeling the darkness seep in. I let Kazaxon have a look, to see if he can sense anything she might be holding back. While she refuses to divulge names, he confirms she tells the truth. We both know that her potential affiliations with the rebel groups aren't what has put me in such a mood. Edeva doesn't know that, however, and I begin to feel the guilt of startling her so. I let go of her wrist and she straightens back in her seat, watching the dancers.
A tear slides down her cheek several moments later. Frowning, I reach out and brush it away. She tenses somewhat but does not move, so I suppose that is a good sign that I have not completely lost her. Still, this is not a good way to lead up to the consummation. I follow her gaze over to where Gisela is offering Anselm an extremely decadent looking pastry, and he reluctantly accepts to make her happy. Edeva fears upsetting me for her sister's sake, I realize.
"I am sorry you feel like you had to marry your enemy's daughter," She says quietly, cautiously. "But I... I would hope his highness understands that I am not your enemy. I have no connections to any rebellions, I swear. I was content to just live my life in the woods."
I shake my head, and feel another pang of guilt. God, I have been married to her an hour and already I have confused and frightened her. "Forgive me for scaring you. I know you are not my enemy. There have been revolts against me for years and they never once mentioned you or made me worry. But those in Adrimar who aided you... They kept me from seeing you. They kept me from touching you. That is hard to let go; the idea that I could have had you sooner."
Edeva tenses again, and turns towards me. She looks wary. "Alekso..."
"I suppose the rest does not matter. You are here now. You are mine now."
My words are not comforting, that much is clear. My bride averts her gaze to the food in front of her that I know she isn't interested in.
You are doing so well. How do you plan on salvaging this, if you even care?
I care. I shouldn't, but I do. Something makes me want her to have as much desire for me as I have for her, and while I can't place my finger on it, I will act on it. I have time. There is still tonight.
***
EDEVA
I look to the windows and see that the sky is black now, and the festivities should be drawing to a close. My courtiers- and I must keep reminding myself that they are indeed mine- are a lively bunch and show no signs of stopping. My lady Kwenthrith beleaguers Commander Anselm about all the guards in the area; it is clearly a distraction so Gisela can talk to some boys her age. Perhaps Kwen is not as surly as I initially thought. Any minute now Anselm will see past the ruse and scare them all away. I am thankful I get to watch all of this so I do not have to focus on what is to come.
As if on cue, Prince Jean, Alekso's uncle, comes to the table and bows before us. Distance is what helped him survive my father's revolt, as well as the simple fact that he held so little influence on his own for some reason. A mistake on my father's part. Had he gone after Prince Jean, he would have found Alekso sooner.
But then he would have killed him as a child, like he did with Alekso's brothers. Sure, I would not be in the predicament I am in now, but that does not make it okay.
"All is prepared for the bedding, your highness. I take it the queen's witness is aware and ready as well?"
"Yes, your grace," I say quietly. "I mean to say, she is not here with me but if someone was to collect her she would know why." The tension radiating from me must be palpable. Alekso frowns a little and looks to his uncle.
"Do not call attention to us. Get Lambert and Miss Gisela and we will arrive in a moment's time."
He bows again, turning away and I rise to my feet. Alekso does as well and I am grateful for his decision to try and get us out of here quietly. Unfortunately, although we made no real noise loud enough to go over the music and laughter, enough people turn towards us to catch the attention of others, who do the same. Well, so much for subterfuge. They all stare at us, wide eyed, excited, a few women clasping their hands together as if this is the most romantic day they have ever witnessed. I suppose no one expected the evil, red-eyed Alekso to marry.
I take a deep breath before my new husband gently puts an arm around my waist and guides me out of the hall, using the side entrance so I do not have to walk through the crowd and the giddy whispering among the court. The walk to his bedchamber is a blur for me as I grow more and more anxious. My body warms up, my fingertips tingle, and I find it hard to breathe.
The door to his bedchamber is open, and the fireplace is lit despite it being a warm summer night. I resist the urge to fan myself. Bishop Lambert stands at the foot of the bed, praying silently and blessing it, while Jean stands to the left and Gisela stands to the right. I do not really understand why a diablarist allows his bed to be blessed. Would that not mess with his power?
Oh God, I think to myself, I am about to be bedded by a diablarist, a man who willingly sold his soul to a demon in exchange for enhancement of his magical powers. People with magical persuasion are quite rare in general, and any town or city blessed to have one living among them tend to treat them like grand protectors. Highwaymen would not dare set foot in a place guarded by a well practiced mage or even a witch. But diablarists? They are the dark mages, feared by all. Alekso in particular has the power of necromancy and an army of undead at his beck and call. And here I am, married to him, about to share his bed.
I wonder if he will find me pretty?... Why should I care if he does!?
I want to laugh at the audacity of it all, but I remain composed. I take my place in front of Prince Jean, while Alekso stands in front of Gisela. She is far less frightened than I am; if anything she looks angry and defiant, wasting no time in undressing her new brother in-law. She haphazardly unties his cape, tugs off his gloves and jacket, and yanks his shirt over his head. She reaches for his belt and I see him smile and stop her. I did not want my young sister as my witness but I have no other family now. In exchange for his pardon, Eldis is not allowed near the castle or to have any communication with us.
Prince Jean's hands are warm against the back of my neck. He undoes my braid, fanning my hair out and brushing a few wavy tresses over my shoulders. My locket comes next, and to my relief he does not inspect it. He simply sets it on the chair behind him where he puts the rest of my jewelry, as well as my crown and my overdress. I feel my body tensing and my panic reaching a whole new level when he reaches in front of me and unties the strings of my chemise, letting his hands linger a bit too long on my chest before settling on my upper arms. He grips the fabric, tugging it down.
Then I hear a growl. Prince Jean quickly lets go and we turn our attention to Alekso, whose eyes glow, staring directly at his uncle. It was no simple growl. That was a deep, animalistic one of warning, letting the prince know he is not to touch me further.
"Everyone out." He commands, pointing to the door. Gisela does not hesitate and rushes out, but Prince Jean and Bishop Lambert remain.
"Your highness," the bishop says. "Witnesses must remain so that the legitimacy of any issue from your union is assured."
"I said, out." His voice is deeper this time, eyes still glowing and almost pulsing. I know he will not repeat himself again. The two men heed their final warning and exit the room quicker than Gisela had. I hear their steps down the hall as the guards shut the doors and leave us alone. When Alekso turns back to me, his eyes are calm again.
My own eyes cannot help but move along his exposed body. Every inch of him exudes power; strong shoulders tapering down to a trim waist, the sturdy muscles of his thighs are hidden under his pants but I know they are there. I cannot ignore the fact that I want to touch him now, to trace my fingertips over each dip in his abs, to run my fingers through the particularly thick patch of hair on his chest trailing down the center of his stomach. I had not noticed until now that despite being clean shaven this morning for our wedding, he is already sporting some stubble on his chin. He is not very princely in form; not a prim and powdered man. He looks more like he belongs in the woods than I ever have.
"Edeva," Alekso says, and I quickly recompose myself. It is too late, of course; he knows I had been staring at him, and he is pleased that I seem to like what I see. Do I? I worry I do. I worry at how attractive I find the man who murdered my father. He takes a step towards me and instinctively I take a step back. Another step, and then another, but he gains ground slowly, like a predator approaching its prey. Soon I am against the foot of the bed and I fall back on to it, managing to catch myself with my palms.
I sit there, staring at him like a frightened deer. I have nowhere to go even if I was not too afraid to move. He must sense my apprehension as he closes the distance between us. How much does he care, though? I am his, after all, just like he said. My hand in marriage in exchange for my life.
"I am so sorry about how I acted today. I am going to make it up to you though, starting now."
Alekso leans forward and sets his hands on either side of me, caging me in. He apologizes for scaring me? Or for forcing me to marry him? I try to restrain the nervous tremors as his head tips down. He takes a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of my hair, before whispering softly in my ear.
"Undress, Edeva. Let me see my queen."
It is a gentle command, but a command nonetheless. He stands up straight and begins to undo his belt. For my part, I manage to snap myself out of the stupor I am in so I can pull at the lace of my chemise. It is easy enough to tug the light fabric from my shoulders, and I try my best to just focus on that, on just getting the task set before me accomplished. I continue to pull it down and lift my hips to let it slide off my knees and pool at my feet. It takes me a moment or two to grasp now truly naked I am now, only drawn from my segmented thinking by the realization that there is no movement from Alekso in the corner of my vision. I glance up to see him standing there, his belt in his hands, frozen mid-tug.
"Fuck," he growls. "You are more beautiful than I imagined." He then nearly tears the belt from his pants and leans over me again. His lips press hungrily against mine. "So beautiful." he growls in to our kiss, guiding me further up the bed only by his mouth, and then pushing down so I am flat on my back while he slips out of the rest of his clothes. At first I am unsure what to do; my hands remain at my sides and they curl in to the blanket beneath me. I feel an odd sensation; his tongue sliding across the seam of my lips, and I gasp. It is enough of an opening for him to push his tongue through and deepen the kiss. Oh no, it feels good. Incredible, even.
In that moment I grow bold; I reach up and run my fingers through his dark hair, a palm slipping down his neck and along his back. The fireplace has this room quite hot, but his skin is so cool I find instant relief touching him. Alekso finally breaks the kiss, but his mouth does not leave me for long. He plants tiny kisses down my jaw and along my neck, his hands sliding over my hips.
I let out a very soft moan as he continues to explore my body, and his hip jerks against mine. I feel his erection brush along my inner thigh, but he stills and whispers something I cannot quite hear. Something like 'patience'. I go to ask what he said, but then as he sits up and looks down on me, I am rendered paralyzed by his gaze. His eyes are glowing again, but I can see black creeping in through the corners. Alekso smiles, one hand brushing against the underside of my breast and the other gently massaging my thigh. His touches are feather light at first, like he's teasing me, but each gentle swipe of his fingertips over the curve of my breast, then against my nipple, send shocks through my body. He simply watches me, to gauge my reaction when his fingers move down over my belly, still barely touching.
"You're sweating," He tsks, the devious grin still on his face. He still does not seem to be affected by the heat in the room, and I want to admit that it is uncomfortable, until the air around me suddenly cools. Very suddenly, and especially so around certain parts of my body. I furrow my brow. My nipples had perked from his earlier touches, but now they are firm and hard from the cold air kissing them. I feel his fingers trace along the delicate folds between my thighs, then nudge inside of me. My back arches slightly.
"Are you... using magic?" I whisper, and his reply is to curl his fingers in me, rubbing up against some part of me that makes me gasp. Then his thumb brushes against that exceptionally sensitive button of flesh and my hips practically come off of the bed. His other hand that had been touching my thigh reaches up and palms my breast, and he leans down to cover my nipple with his mouth. I cry out again as he swirls his tongue around the hard nub and tugs it between his teeth before pulling away and letting the cold air lap at it. His fingers continue their ministrations, and soon I am writhing underneath him. I am no saint; I've touched myself before plenty of times and know what pleasure felt like, but this is unlike anything I experienced prior. All the while, Alekso simply watches me, moving his fingers in and out of me while his thumb circles around my sensitive bud, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
I inhale sharply as my climax suddenly hits me, his fingers not stopping but instead going faster, dragging the pleasure out of me and letting it linger. I feel wave after wave hitting me, like the magic of him moving the heat around me is guiding it along. My hands had been gripping the blanket on either side of my head, but when I look up at Alekso, I realize it is him I want to touch. At this moment I do not care who he is outside of this bedroom. I reach out and he leans down, letting me curl my hand behind his neck and pull him in for another kiss. "Oh, Alekso..."
He fists his cock in his hand and positions it against my folds, slowly running it up and down to slip easily between them. Though still basking in the afterglow of my orgasm, I become nervous again. I hear it hurts the first time, especially if one's husband is not gentle. I bite back a whimper as Alekso pushes the swollen head of his cock past my entrance, lifting his upper body to look down in to my eyes as before he thrusts in to me.
My lips part in a silent cry, shutting my eyes tightly. There was most certainly a pinch, and I am unused to the sensation of anything inside me. I feel extremely filled, but then he moves his hips and I realize he is not completely inside of me. My breathing grows labored and my eyes well with tears; not necessarily from the pain but from the fear that there will be more of it. I grip Alekso's shoulders as he kisses my neck, pushing himself in more until our hips meet. He pulls himself almost all the way out, and his hand dives between us to circle my bud again before he thrusts back in me. It does not hurt this time, and the pinching sensation begins to fade in place of intense bliss.
He finds a rhythm in his thrusting and I give in to him again, his body relieving the heat on my skin as beads of sweat form on my forehead, my chest and my belly. I continue to hold on to him for dear life until he grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, causing my back to arch and my breasts to push up. He takes that opportunity, leaning down to lick and suck on them. It is no longer teasing like before, but rather savage, and yet when I cry out at him biting my nipple it is a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure. I cannot help but moan with each thrust, his cock touching everywhere inside of me and his hand not relenting right above it. Another orgasm overwhelms my body faster than the one before it, but he still keeps going, pushing me through it. My head is spinning by the time he tenses above me and gives himself several long, hard thrusts.
Alekso's hands are still gripping my wrists tightly as he comes, and I watch him tilt his head back and let out a deep growl. Fangs protrude past his lips, like he is a beast rather than a man. It should frighten me, and I swear there is part of me that certainly is scared, but it excites me, too. I stare up at him until he takes several deep breaths and then nearly falls on top of me, but moves to the side at the last moment. He lets go of me, and then sets a hand on my hip to slowly pull himself out. I lie there a few seconds and catch my breath, but not for too long. An arm snakes around me and he pulls me against him, capturing my lips in one more heated kiss.
When we part, he looks down at me with a tender expression, running his fingers through my hair like I am the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to him; a treasure. Neither one of us says anything though. I just nuzzle his shoulder and then close my eyes as he continues to stroke my hair and soothe me to sleep.