Ten

“If you’ll part with her, I’ll give you Bridgeburn and the Flatreach Keep on the other side of the Vimt. If wealth is what you desire…” Volas emptied his glass as Myrin weighed the offer and the likelihood that it was a test or trap of some kind.

“That is an offer that cannot be turned down without a moment’s consideration. But perhaps it’s selfish of me, I’d rather have Marravae.” Myrin finished his own glass. Trying to sell her would be frowned on and it would risk his plans of putting his own son on the Cemiri throne. Keeping her would be a pleasure every bit as much as it would further his ends.

“Perhaps you aren’t entirely unworthy.” Volas stood and came around the table. “Let me put her into bed. We should both get an hour or two of rest before breakfast.” 

The way the man looked at Marravae hadn’t changed, but as muscular as she was she would be considerably heavier than Myrae. Allowing it would spare him some embarrassment. “Please. Be careful, she’s…” he watched with annoyance as the Arek lifted Marravae as if she were as light as a feather, “heavier than she looks.”

“She’s strong. I would have expected her to have more stamina.” Volas laid her on top of the blankets and pulled them over her. 

It looked as though she’d finished a glass of the Zophin. He’d put a few drops of sleeping tonic in her brother’s to make him sleep well tonight, that was probably the cause. It took time to take hold. Confessing that to Volas would be folly, so he simply shrugged his shoulders. 

“I imagine she had a long day and my waking her to apologize made her more tired.”

“Was she awake when you began to,” Volas was glaring at him as he spat the word, “apologize?”

“Of course!” He looked at the serenely sleeping Marravae, “She struck me once tonight already.”

Volas grunted, looking down at her. “She doesn’t like unannounced guests.” 

“Her brother was careful to announce himself.” As jealous as Gaeleath seemed it probably took a great deal of effort not to push his way in. Remembering not to enter her chamber without warning would be wise. “I should have paid attention.”

“The look on her face was the only warning I needed.” Volas murmured softly, extending his hand to brush his fingers across her cheek.

“I don’t think I like you stroking my wife.” Myrin’s lips twisted wryly.

“You have not yet killed the boar.” Volas cast him a bitter look, “If you fail, despite your understanding, I will take her from you.”

“Even after I spent hours in her bed? I tried to keep her quiet but surely you must have heard.” Myrin tried not to break into a triumphant grin as the man winced.

“I heard. I will forgive her for her mistake.” The Arek Prince truly seemed smitten with Marravae. She was lovely in a dark, exotic way. Cemiri women were known for their gracious curves, and while Marravae was slender compared to many of them she was still… robust, compared to Myrae. Her breasts were beautiful, but her hips and thighs might be his favorite part after seeing how well she could use them. Myrae refused to mount him that way, it exhausted her. Marravae insisted on it, and it was all he’d been told it could be. He could feel himself hardening again at the memory. 

“I won’t fail. Not after I’ve tasted the honey between her thighs.” He let his lips curve as Volas looked down at the woman with pained disappointment clear on his face. “I thought I was determined before, now I think I would rather die than fail.”

“She should watch from a safe distance. I don’t want to risk her life. When you fail she might be maimed or killed.”

“I won’t fail. She’s certain of it.”

“She didn’t hear you scream.” The Arek gave him a faintly amused smile and ran a finger over the curve of her lower lip.

For a moment, the urge to tell him that those lips had been wrapped around his c**k bubbled up but it would paint Marravae in a poor light. A Princess wasn’t meant to have such skills. Gaeleath had taught her well.

Volas pulled his hand away and made his way toward the tent flap, stopping with his hand on his spear. Rest would be wise.