The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(12)

This pleases me greatly. I have kissed only a very few females, and always with her foremost in my mind. Every cyclops male is trained to please a female in bed, but I have never claimed one as my own. I have been waiting for my Halla, and the kisses I give her now are a result of learning what it will take to pleasure a female.

Not just any female, but mine.

So I nibble on her mouth, on those full, pink lips, before stroking deep once more. When she makes another soft whimper and her hand curls against my chest, I gentle my kiss, turning it to one of exploration and languid pleasure. There will be time enough to plunder her, I reason with myself. I must go slow. I must be gentle. So I lap at her mouth, flicking my tongue against hers until she squirms with pleasure, and the nipples rubbing against my chest are hard little beads that make my cock surge with aching need.

I would bear her to the floor and claim her as mine right now if I were not king. But I am, and she is a princess of the Yshrem line, and what we do must be public so all will know we are united. With a sigh, I pull away from the soft sweetness of her mouth and give her one final nip. “Say you will be mine, Halla.”

She gives me a dazed, passion-glazed look, her focus on my mouth. “Of course, my lord.”

“Mathior. Always Mathior to you.”

A smile touches her kiss-swollen lips. “Mathior.”

It takes everything I have not to claim her mouth as mine again. I gently set her onto her feet and then get to my own. My cock throbs under my loincloth, but I ignore it and the obvious bulge it makes. “When can you be ready to leave?”

She straightens her clothes and runs a trembling hand over her braids. “I do not have much, so I could be ready in an hour. However, if you want to marry a princess, I shouldn’t leave the temple dressed like a peacekeeper. Send your men out to get me a dress fit for a queen, and a horse of my own, and we can ride out in the morning where everyone can see us coming up the roads.”

I’m amused at how quickly her manner changed from sweetly giving and unsure to brisk and efficient. This is the Halla I remembered—a queen down to her bones. She is right. It has been sixteen years since any saw their princess. For them to recognize her as such, she will need to be garbed in the manner befitting a queen. If I take her out of here in the plain spun robe she is currently wearing, they will think I have snatched her. I’m both pleased and amused at her clever mind. “It shall be done. I’ll have a dress delivered this afternoon.”

“You have the banns?”

“Banns?” I stare at her blankly.

“Banns,” she agrees. “A Yshremi custom. The bride and groom travel the streets with a banner showing the house symbols that will be united. It’s so the common people can come out and receive blessing coins.” She lifts her chin. “You should probably go to the nearest moneylender as well and take out a great many coins. You wouldn’t want to look poor in front of my people.”

So because I am marrying her in my custom, I am also to marry her in hers? Impudent to suggest, but wise, too. I grin. “It shall be done. My house has no symbol, though. That is a Yshremi custom.”

“You’ll think of something,” she says coolly, and straightens. “I must go and inform the peacekeepers that I will be leaving. Will you compensate them for my care for all these years?”

“Of course. You are quick to spend my money,” I tease.

“You’re marrying a princess,” she tells me in a tart voice as she saunters away. “We are not cheap.”

I throw back my head and laugh with delight.



I have a dress sent to the temple later that evening, and when I arrive with my warriors the next morning, we bring a pale gray mare for her to ride upon. Since we ride to the capital with all of my tribe, hundreds of Cyclopae warriors fill the streets, and it is easy to tell the Yshremi local people are alarmed. Families hide away at the sight of the crossed spears on our backs and the eyepatches on our faces. They probably think we are here to conquer once more.

Halla was wise to suggest the banns and the dress. Two bags of coins are tied to my horse’s saddle and a bag tied to her mare. I have given my men equal amounts of the Yshremi coins so they can also toss them at the people. If all it takes is a few coins to make them forget our spears, then it is a small price indeed.

The gates of the temple open in silence, and Halla meets us on the steps. One of the peacekeepers holds a small bag in her arms, but Halla herself is as regal and lovely as I remember. The dress I chose for her is a bright, fiery red, trimmed with white fur. It will stand out like a lightning bolt against the mare. She will be impossible to miss. Her hair is braided in a coronet that makes her look regal and elegant even without a circlet for her brow. I approach and offer her my hand.

She comes down the steps and puts her hand lightly on mine. “Did you get the banns?”

I turn and gesture at the men riding at the front of my warriors. Two long, fluttering flags are unraveled, and the symbol of House Yshrem—a scroll—is next to the symbol I have created for my people. It is an eye with a red handprint over it, symbolizing both my cyclops people and our love of battle.

Once the banns unfurl, a cheer goes up around us and I turn. I did not realize we had an audience, but people have streamed out of their homes, and as Halla strides forward, they continue to call out her name. She is well loved here.

She will be well loved by me, as well. I am pleased.