I can’t. You know this is dangerous. Send her back to her room, Dutiful.
I had no sense that he had received my thought. He had closed himself off to focus only on the girl. Behind me, Thick stood up, yawning and gaping. ‘I’m going back,’ he announced sleepily.
Sshh. No. We have to stay here and be very quiet. Don’t talk out loud. I peered at the young couple anxiously, but if Elliania had heard Thick, she gave no sign. I wondered uneasily where Peottre was, and what he would do to Dutiful if he found them together like this.
Thick sighed heavily. He crouched back down, and then sat flat on the ground. This is stupid. I want to go back to bed.
Elliania glanced down at Dutiful’s hands at his side, and then, cocking her head, looked up at his face. ‘So. Who are you waiting for?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Lestra? Did she invite you to meet her here?’
A very odd smile appeared on Dutiful’s face. Was he pleased that he had pricked her to jealousy? He spoke more softly than she did, but I could watch his lips form the words. ‘Lestra? Why would I wait by moonlight for Lestra?’
‘There is no moon tonight,’ Elliania pointed out sharply. ‘And as for why Lestra, why, because she would willingly give you her body to use as you wished. More for the sake of spiting me than because she found you handsome.’
He crossed his arms on his chest. I wondered if he did so to hold in his satisfaction or to keep from taking her in his arms. She was slender as a willow, and her night braids fell to her hips. I could almost smell the warmth of her rising up to him. ‘So. Do you think she finds me handsome?’
‘Who knows? She likes odd things. She has a cat with a crooked tail and too many toes. She thinks it’s pretty.’ She shrugged. ‘But she would tell you that you were handsome, simply to win you.’
‘Would she? But perhaps I don’t want Lestra to win me. She is pretty, but perhaps I don’t want Lestra at all,’ he suggested to her.
All the night held its breath as she looked up at him. I saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she took a deeper breath, daring herself. ‘Then what do you want?’ she asked, soft as a breeze.
He didn’t try to take her in his arms. I think she would have resisted that. Instead, he freed one hand from his crossed arms and with the tip of one finger, lifted her chin. He leaned forward, bending down to take the kiss he stole from her. Stole? But she did not flee. Instead, she rose on her toes as only their mouths touched in the soft dimness.
I felt a lecherous old man, sprawled in the darkness of the hedge, spying on them. I knew he plunged himself into danger, that they both took foolish chances, but my heart leapt at the thought that my lad might know love as well as an arranged marriage. When their kiss finally broke, I hoped he would send her back to her bedchamber. I wanted him to have this moment, but I also knew that I’d have to intervene if it looked as if their experiment was going to venture past a kiss. I cringed at the thought, but steeled myself to the necessity of it.
With dread, I heard her breathless question. ‘A kiss. That was all you wanted?’
‘It is all I’ll take now,’ he countered. His chest was rising and falling as if he’d run a race. ‘I’ll wait until I’ve earned more to take more.’
An uncertain smile crossed her face. ‘You need not earn it if I choose to give myself to you.’
‘But … you said you would not be my wife until I brought you the dragon’s head.’
‘In my land, a woman gives herself where she will. It is different from being married. Or a wife, as you call it. Once a girl is a woman, she can take whatever man she wishes into her bedskins. It does not mean she is wed to each of them.’ She glanced aside and added carefully, ‘You would be my first. Some consider that more special than to be vowed to one another. It would not make me your wife, of course. I will not be wife or wedded to you until you have brought the dragon’s head here, to my mothershouse.’
‘I would like you to be my first, as well,’ Dutiful said carefully. Then, as if uttering the words were as difficult as dragging a tree up by the roots, he added, ‘But not now. Not until I’ve done what I’ve said I’d do.’
She was shocked, but not that he would keep his promise. ‘Your first? Truly? You’ve known no woman yet?’
It took him a long moment to admit it. ‘It is the custom of my land, though not all follow it. To wait until we are wed.’ He spoke stiffly, as if fearing she would mock him for his chastity.
‘I would like to be your first,’ she admitted. She stepped closer to him, and this time his arms settled around her. She melted her body against him as his mouth found hers.
My Wit made me aware of Peottre before they were. Engrossed as they were, I doubt either of them would have been aware of a herd of sheep passing around them, but I came to my feet as I saw the old warrior step around the corner of the mothershouse. His sword was on his hip and his eyes were dangerous. ‘Elliania.’
She leapt out of Dutiful’s embrace. One guilty hand wiped her mouth as if to conceal the kiss she had taken. I give Dutiful full credit that he stood his ground. He swung his head to look steadily at Peottre. There was nothing of remorse or disgrace in his stance, nor anything of boyishness. He looked like a man interrupted while kissing a woman who belonged to him. I held my breath, wondering if I would better or worsen the situation by stepping into plain view.
The silence was as still and watchful as the night. The gaze held between Peottre and Dutiful. It was a measuring look, not quite a challenge. When Peottre spoke, his words were for Elliania. ‘You should go back to your bedchamber.’
At his suggestion, she spun and fled. Her bare feet were silent on the dust of the courtyard. Even after she was gone, Dutiful and Peottre continued to regard one another. At last Peottre spoke. ‘The dragon’s head. You promised. As a man, you gave your word.’
Dutiful inclined his head once, gravely. ‘I did. As a man, I promised.’
Peottre started to turn away. Dutiful spoke again.
‘What Elliania offered me, she offered as a woman, not as the Narcheska. Is she free to offer that, by your customs?’
Peottre’s spine stiffened. He turned slowly and spoke unwillingly. ‘Who else can offer that to you, save a woman? Her body belongs to her. She can share that with you. But she will not truly be your wife until you bring her the head of Icefyre.’
‘Ah.’
Again, Peottre slowly turned to go, and again Dutiful’s voice stopped him.