The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(90)

Oh. Well then. That was understandable. It was even nice.

Shit.

“Well,” I whispered against his thumb, “okay then.”

He looked into my eyes for a heartbeat then he threw his head back and laughed. Before I knew it, his thumb left my lips, his still laughing mouth replaced it, his tongue slid into my mouth and he kissed me hard and deep.

Totally a natural.

I kissed him back and he rolled so I was on top, both his hands moving to hold back my hair.

When he broke our kiss I saw from close up that his eyes still held mirth.

I would know why when he stated with not a small amount of arrogance, “My tigress is stubborn and her claws are sharp but I knew I would win her mouth.”

He was gloating.

He was also not wrong.

So, I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Whatever.”

This made him chuckle which made me roll my eyes again.

Then he stopped chuckling and called, “Circe,” and when my eyes went back to him, his hands dropped my hair and his arms wrapped around me. “I will not be attending the pyre with you. I have much to do. You will be escorted by an honor guard. I command that you not leave their sight and,” his arms tightened, “if Dortak should have the insolence to attend the pyre of the bride he drove to take her own life, you will show no response. I will deal with him in less than a week and then you and Suh Tunak will only have bad memories.”

Again, he was speaking in Korwahk so I didn’t understand all of what he said but I followed. Even so, I was stuck on the concept that Dortak would be there which was such bad taste, it defined bad taste and that my king wanted me not to grab the nearest blade and send it flying at him.

“Circe,” Lahn called again, I focused on him and he asked in English, “Okay?”

I stared down at him. Then I heaved a sigh. Then I forced out my, “Okay.”

He grinned, then he lifted his head and in my ear he whispered, “Kah teenkah tunakanahsa,” telling me he knew it was difficult for me to agree to his command but he was pleased I did.

Then he kissed the skin of my neck, rolled me to my back, grinned down at me a second while I tried to recover from how hot he looked smiling at me with his hair flowing down his shoulders, chest and back then he bent forward, touched his mouth to my forehead and exited the bed.

I rolled to my side and watched him tie the ties on his hides as he barked, “Teetru!” then without looking back, slapped the flaps aside and he was gone.

I rolled back to my back, pulled the silk over my na**d body and hoped they didn’t wear black to funerals in Korwahk.

Then I listened to my girls calling “poyah” to me as they rushed into the tent dragging the bath and I heard the tinkling silverware which meant breakfast was soon to be served as the rest of this morning washed over me: Lahn’s mouth on mine; my husband sharing his most precious possession with me; him telling me I was beautiful and he didn’t like other men watching me; his thinking of me when he needed to be painted and still thinking of me when he washed it off, doing so without breaking his promise; and just how much I liked his hair down and how much more I liked to hear him laugh.

Shit, shit, shit.

I was in trouble.

It was not until much later when I would remember that I forgot to ask him about why he kept saying I commanded the heavens and why he called me a new name – his goddess.

* * * * *

I wore ice blue to the funeral and none of my signature gold: an ice blue sarong shot with silver, an ice blue, wide suede belt (that was so plush to the touch it was shocking and I fell in love with it instantly), another fold of silk to cover my br**sts, also ice blue with heavy, silver ovals dangling at the ends. My jewelry was minimal, just silver chandelier earrings and the seed pearl bangles I bought at the marketplace. My makeup was pearlescent and for the first time, Teetru arranged my hair in twists and curls pulled back at the top and sides into a fall at the back that was created by pins she slid in so they were invisible.

I heard the horses before I walked out of my cham but was surprised how many there were. Four horses held warriors I had not seen before. Diandra was on her roan, Seerim beside her on a black mount. Feetak held Narinda in front of him on his chestnut. A dapple gray held Bain with his new bride Oahsee sitting behind him, her arms about his waist. Zahnin, alone but on his feet, his hand holding the bridle on a buckskin horse. Bohtan with Nahka on a palomino. And Zephyr was there for me.

The women all held flowers and as I approached Zephyr Jacanda handed me a beautiful, vibrant orange bloom that looked like a tiger lily except with twice as many petals.

I noticed right away that no one was in their finest finery, even if it was never as fine as mine. Attending the pyre clearly was not a cause for celebration, an opportunity to show off or a fashion parade. It was what it was, a sad occasion, the marking the end of a life – this one more tragic than most and every death held tragedy so that was saying something.

Zahnin moved forward to spot me while I mounted then instantly walked to his steed, swung up and off we went, two warriors in front followed by Feetak and Narinda next to Bohtan and Nahka. Me with Diandra’s roan falling in on my side. Seerim behind us next to Bain and Oahsee, Zahnin then the last two warriors.

“The pyre is far away, my dear,” Diandra said to me then she lifted her chin to the air, “the wind,” she finished as an explanation.