The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(18)
I love that. I love how fearless she is. And I love that when she gazed upon my cock, her cheeks flamed bright red and her voice wobbled as she declared me pleasing to her as well.
My bride. My beautiful Halla. I am so close to making her mine.
The next day passes incredibly slowly. I am hungry for the next day’s marriage ceremony, but it will not be held until that evening. I cannot sleep, because Halla haunts my dreams. I cannot spar with my men, because I cannot focus long enough to fight properly. This only makes my warriors laugh; they make crude jokes and tease me endlessly. After a few rounds of this, I give up and return to my audience chambers. I listen to advisors as they drone on and on about crops and trade routes and levies until I want to hit something. This, too, is part of being king, though, so I force myself to pay attention and take in all the advice given to me.
Eventually, though, darkness falls and people gather for the feast. I cannot be the first to arrive, lest I seem too eager. I am still king, for all that I am bridegroom as well. I dress for the feast, and when enough time has passed, I enter the feast hall.
A loud cheer goes up, and I raise a hand to silence them. I am pleased to see that both Yshremi and Cyclops are cheering. There is nothing quite like a wedding and feast to bring people together, it seems. Perhaps I should marry off more cyclops warriors to Yshremi brides. It’s an intriguing concept and one I plan on discussing with Halla once I am alone with her.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, I plan on doing many other things with my bride. Tonight is the tasting, and my mouth waters with the thought of it.
The great hall has tables laid out, and people sit along the benches, waiting for the feast to begin. I move to my throne, still on the dais, and sit there impatiently, waiting for my bride. The food is served, dish after dish, drinking horn after drinking horn, but no one eats or drinks. As custom, no one can celebrate the “tasting” until we do.
Halla arrives in a sweep of lavender skirts a short time later, and the cheer goes up once more. I can tell even as she approaches that she is embarrassed, her shoulders stiff and regal. She keeps a gracious smile on her face as people call out ribald jokes. Only during a wedding are such things allowed. Once the three days have passed, we will be king and queen and the rules of court will return once more. But for now, the excitement of a wedding and feast makes everyone forget.
I want to jump to my feet at the sight of my lovely bride, but I force myself to rise slowly. I take slow, measured steps down the dais and then extend my hand to her. She puts her small one in mine, her movements pretty and elegant, and when she smiles up at me, people cheer.
If nothing else, we have changed the mood at court, and that is something.
I tuck Halla’s hand in my arm and nod at the chaperones that follow her. Penella and Ishera—two of my finest warriors—have been chosen to be my bride’s chaperones. I chose them because they were female, and perhaps it is my own jealousy that makes me choose women for the roles. I want her to be comfortable, of course, and I know our ways are foreign to her.
More than that, though, I do not want another man looking upon what is mine. Yesterday was a necessity. I enjoyed looking at her lovely body, but it took everything I had not to cover her immediately. She is mine and mine alone, and my possessive streak grows greater with every moment that I am in her presence.
Princess Halla belongs to me.
If Halla is aware of my jealousy, she does not indicate it. She smiles and nods her head at the court as if this is any other feast and I am not about to take her to a private room and bury my face between her thighs. Some of the men have knowing looks on their faces, but I make sure that my glare lets them know that I will not have her embarrassed. I escort my bride to the doors of the great hall, and then we turn.
“Let the Tasting of the Bride begin!” I say in a ringing voice, and their cheers—of excitement and catcalls both—drown out our exit.
Then Halla and I are alone in the hall, Penella and Ishera silent shadows a span of steps behind us.
Halla does not look at me as we move through the halls. The sounds of merrymaking in the main hall carry through, echoing with our steps, and I wait until they die away before I turn to look at my bride. I have not seen her since last night, and I wondered if I would wake this morning and find her fled back to the temple.
“I am glad you have stayed,” I lean in and murmur as we walk.
She gives me a startled look, two bright red flags of color in her cheeks. “You thought I would leave?”
I chuckle and pat the hand tucked into my arm. “I wasn’t entirely sure after yesterday. But I thank you for honoring my people’s customs. I know they’re very different than yours, but if you are to be accepted as queen of the Cyclopae, a marriage following the old ways is wisest.”
“Am I your queen, then?” Her voice is soft.
“Did you have any doubt?”
She makes a soft noise in her throat that I cannot decide is agreement or embarrassment. Halla gazes straight ahead, composing herself. “I was not certain of my place…in any of this.”
I wonder how much more plainly I can tell her. I pause in my steps and turn to face her. The expression on her pretty face is practiced, as if she is afraid of showing any sort of emotion. “You are mine. I would not humiliate you with a pretend marriage. Nor do I have plans to abandon you. You are my wife, Halla…or you will be once this ceremony is over. That will make you Queen of Cyclopae, Adassia and Yshrem.”