“Ican see perfectly well in the darkness, Princess.”
“Oh.” I wince as my face grows hot. “I did not realize, my lord.”
“Please,” he says. “Call me Caelen.”
“Caelen,” I repeat his name softly.
My trembling arm is still extended out before me. I move to retract it, but his warm hand finds mine and squeezes gently. His skin is callused against my own, but this is natural, I would think, for a skilled swordsman. “I have asked the witnesses to remain outside. They will not enter without your permission. I understand they are part of your tradition, but I would know your thoughts before I allow them to be present for our first joining.”
Our first joining. I swallow against the knot of worry in my stomach as I consider his words.
Despite my nerves, a measure of relief flows over me at the thought that we will not have witnesses. “I do not want them here.”
“As you wish, my bride.”
He releases my hand, and his steps reverberate softly as he pads across the room to the door. “There will be no witnesses to our joining. You may all leave now,” he commands.
A rumble of voices in the hallway tells me that many are upset by this decision, but I care not. I have never approved of this tradition and am glad that we will not be honoring it.
His hand takes mine again, and although I cannot see him, I tip up my chin and give him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Caelen. Please, call me Lyana.”
“Lyana,” he repeats my name like a gentle caress.
He moves closer. Heat radiates from his body, and my every nerve ending hums in awareness of him. The smell of warm cinnamon fills my nostrils as I breathe in his scent.
He brushes the hair from my face and lightly runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek. I draw in a shaking breath as my body trembles with nervous anticipation.
He lifts my hand and presses a tender kiss to the top of my knuckles. “You do not need to fear me, Lyana.”
“I… do not,” I offer a half truth. “I’m merely nervous.”
It’s more than nerves. I’ve heard the first time can be very painful and I do not know how High Elf men compare to humans. I only know that he’s much taller than most human men. What if we do not fit?
“I must ask,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth like velvet. “What is the purpose of the witnesses?”
“To ensure that our marriage is properly consummated, my lord.”
He’s silent for so long, I would think he is not even still here if not for his hand in mine. Finally, he speaks. “I do not understand. How does one properly consummate a marriage?”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks. “The sheets. They… are inspected after we—”
“Inspected?” he asks incredulously. “For what?”
I swallow hard. “Blood.”
“Blood?” he asks, confusion in his tone.
I did not think it possible for my face to heat even more, but now it feels as if it’s on fire. “The blood of my maidenhead. It should stain the sheets after a woman’s barrier is breached for the first time.”
He inhales sharply. “Human females bleed when they join?”
“Yes, but only the first time.”
“Is this… painful?” he asks, a note of worry in his voice.
“I’ve heard it can be.”
“I… still do not understand. Why is it important for others to see this blood upon the sheets after our first joining?”
“I understand that there are two reasons, my lord,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice even. “The first is to prove that I came to our marriage bed a virgin. The second is so that none can question the validity of our union; so that it cannot be annulled later. Do your people not practice something similar?”
“No, we do not.” He pauses. “We do not have to join until you are ready. We can wait.”
“But what about the sheets? Even if they are not here as witnesses, someone will still inspect them. It is tradition and—”
“I will send for one of my men to discreetly bring us blood from a chicken or some such. Would that suffice?”
A smile lifts my lips. “Yes.” My shoulders relax as the tension drains from my body. “Thank you.” I grope for the robe that should be close to the bed. It’s so dark in here, I cannot see.
“Here,” Caelen says, and I feel the press of fabric in my hand. “Were you searching for this?”
I nod and quickly slip the robe over my shoulders, tying the sash around my waist.
I hear the soft rustle of clothing and wonder if he is dressing as well.
His footsteps cross the room toward the window, and he flings the curtains wide, allowing silver moonlight to spill into the room. Soft knit pants hug lean hips and toned thighs, but he wears nothing else.
The soft light illuminates his broad shoulders and muscular physique. He moves with the same fluid and lethal grace as he did when we were dancing. The glimmering beams accentuate the sharp lines of his face and the pointed tips of his ears as he turns to me.
As my gaze travels down his form, I’m drawn to something in his hand. A square, wooden object, but I’m uncertain what it is.
He holds it out and I cautiously take it. “What is this?”
“My people traditionally present our bonded one with a gift on the first night of marriage.”
I study the box. The top is carved in intricate scrolling patterns of vines with heart-shaped leaves. It’s like a work of art unto itself. I find a small latch on the side and when I release it, the most beautiful ring I’ve ever beheld nestles inside.
The glow from the window highlights a delicate silver band shaped like tiny vines with miniscule leaves. In the center, a small round stone shimmers like moonlight. It’s nothing short of breathtaking. “This is beautiful,” I whisper.
“It has been in our family for many generations.”
“I—” I stop short, uncertain what to say, before finally deciding upon. “This is too much, Caelen. I—I did not even get you anything.”
Carefully, he removes the ring from the box and slips it onto my finger. “It was my mother’s,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “It looks lovely on you.”
I lift my gaze to his. “Thank you.”
I place the box on the side table, next to the blade he offered me when he proposed.
“Come,” he says. “Let us sleep.”
He carefully tugs on my hand, guiding me to the bed. I slip beneath the covers, lying on my side. When I feel the bed dip behind me, I gasp, and he stills.
“Do you wish me to sleep on the floor?” he asks. His tone is nothing but sincere, making me regret my reaction.
“No,” I reply as I scoot to the opposite edge. I grab two pillows and place them between us as a barrier, hoping to avoid any awkwardness as we sleep.
A long sigh escapes him. He is probably just as exhausted as I am after today.
“So… what will happen when we reach your kingdom?” I ask, curious to know what awaits me. I shudder inwardly as I think of what Bran mentioned about the Wild Hunt.
“My father will host a feast and—”
A soft knock at the door draws our attention.
“Who is there?” Caelen asks, sitting up in the bed.
“It’s me, Ruvaen, my prince.”
“Ruvaen?”
Caelen turns to me. “Forgive me. I will see what he wants and send him away quickly.”
I sit up, wrapping the blankets around me as Caelen opens the door just enough to speak through it. “Is something wrong?”
“My lord, I—” he starts but stops.
“What is it?” Caelen presses.
“I overheard some of the humans say that you had refused the traditional consummation witnessing. They said they believed you may be having… difficulties,” he says a bit hesitantly.
“Difficulties?” Caelen asks.
“It is not uncommon to have anxiety before the first joining, my prince. I could give you a potion that would help.”
“I do not need any potion, Ruvaen,” Caelen practically growls. “My mate did not wish to participate in this barbaric tradition, so I sent the witnesses away.”
Mate. The term surprises me, but I suppose this is how the Elves refer to their wives.
He continues. “I do need you to bring me some chicken blood first thing in the morning, however.”
“Chicken… blood?”
“Discreetly,” Caelen adds.
“Of—of course, my prince.”
Ruvaen’s eyes dart briefly to mine before he quickly lowers his gaze. “Forgive me, my lady.”
“It’s all right,” I reply.
Color rises in his cheeks and he bows low. “I will take my leave of you both. Please, excuse my intrusion.”
Caelen claps a hand on his shoulder. “All is well, Ruvaen. I will speak to you in the morning.”
When he leaves, Caelen returns to the bed. He sits beside me. “You’ll have to excuse Ruvaen. He means well. He is my mentor. He was the one who taught my siblings and me when we were growing up.” A light chuckle escapes him, and I realize it’s the closest thing I’ve heard to a laugh out of his mouth since we met. “Dhurvaen was always giving him trouble. He used to play pranks on him all the time.”
Sadness flits briefly across his face, and my heart hurts for his loss. “I was sorry to hear about your brother.”
His eyes snap up to mine. Our people have been enemies for a long time, and he probably doubts the sincerity of my words.
“I know what it is to lose an older brother,” I add. “But mine was to sickness, not battle.”
He nods slowly. “I remember hearing of his passing. Prince Arthur was known as a fierce warrior, even among my own people.”
“Yes, he was.” A wistful smile crests my lips at the memory of my brother. “He would have been a great king.”
Caelen lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a faraway look. “I believe Dhurvaen would have been as well.”
Silence settles in the space between us. It seems my new husband and I have more in common than I realized. Neither of us were supposed to rule, and yet, here we are: each of us heir to a kingdom at the price of losing a beloved sibling.
We lie side by side in the darkness. Perhaps he is not the monster I feared him to be. His actions this evening have certainly shown him to be a man of honor.
After a moment, he whispers. “Goodnight, Lyana.”
“Goodnight, Caelen.”
