Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
A cheer goes up from down the hall, and the sound that escapes Iolanthe could be a laugh or a whimper. Maybe both.
CHAPTER 12
IOLANTHE
I block out most of the rest of the night.
I know this is Cyclopae tradition, so I ignore the catcalls and smirking looks. I sit back down at the front of the room as the feast goes on, and try not to blush too much as Agakor hands me sweet tidbits to eat. He's got a knowing expression on his face, and I catch myself staring at his mouth in between bites of food. I can't stop thinking about what we just did. How good it felt.
How I want to do it again.
How I want to do the same to him.
I'm pretty sure if my father had known about the bridal tasting, and the bridal revealing, he would have been angry. Insulted. He'd have viewed it as a slight against our house and his name. Maybe stripping me naked and making Agakor judge me was definitely one-sided in his favor, but the tasting was entirely in my favor, wasn't it? I could have said I was displeased with his performance and things would have been called off. Turnip makes sure to tell everyone how much I cried out while he “dove between my skirts” and the looks the rough men shoot Agakor are full of envy, not mocking.
It's an odd, absurd ceremony—for me to reassure everyone that yes, Agakor pleased me well. Yes, he pleased me twice, as a good orc should.
I drink copious amounts of wine until I head to bed. Agakor leads me to my rooms, kisses my hand, and tells me how much he can't wait for tomorrow, for our wedding to be finalized. It makes heat pool between my thighs again, and this time, I know what that heat is for, and I whimper. Am I little embarrassed as Turnip changes the sheets on the big bed before she lies down? Of course. But when we both settle in to sleep, I'm wide awake. I think about Agakor and his mouth. Agakor and the way he held me as he pleasured me. Agakor and the way his hands skimmed along the insides of my thighs, and his mouth…
I touch myself quietly between my legs and I'm not surprised to see that I'm wet again. I move my hand away, breathless, and try to sleep. I can't, though. I keep thinking about Agakor and his smile.
Funny how I thought he was so ugly just a few short days ago. Now I can't wait to see him smile at me again.
The next morning, I dress myself and fix my hair. There are no ladies to help me with this, but I'm used to doing it on my own. My father has slowly whittled down his keep's servant staff over time to save money, and so I've learned to handle my grooming myself. Other ladies have a dozen maids to help them but…other ladies aren't marrying a half-orc warlord, so there's that. Turnip isn't a great chaperone, either. This morning, she's clutching her head and moaning about how much it pains her. I don't snipe that she shouldn't have drunk so much alcohol. I'm mostly just happy to have the company as I head down the stairs, eager and breathless to see my new husband-to-be this morning.
A lady should keep her composure, I remind myself as we head toward the main hall. I can't seem too excited to see Agakor, especially after last night, or the rumors will go wild and the mocking will never cease. It's just…now I'm truly excited for the wedding. This has gone from a daughter's duty to me anticipating our wedding night, and I'm pretty sure my face will be red all day long. I don't care, though. I'm happy, and I'm excited, and for the first time in a very long time, I'm looking forward to the future.
The great hall is empty, though. Yesterday morning, it was full of soldiers eating their breakfast before heading off for their duties, and I'd gotten to see Agakor in passing. I've woken up even earlier today in the hopes that we'd have more than just a brief moment to talk, but it seems it's not to be. There are a few young boys (both orc and human) clearing dishes from the hall, and I head toward the kitchens, trying to hide my disappointment.
"Good morning, Grundar," I call out as I enter the busy kitchens. Here, at least, there are signs of life. More boys scurry about in the kitchens, bringing in dirty dishes, washing pans, sweeping, and another helper pulls a large tray of freshly baked meat pies out of the oven and sets them down on a table near me. The kitchens are clean and neat, run by another elderly half-orc with an ugly face and a foul demeanor. I've decided I'm going to win him over, though, and I've showed up every morning to discuss menus with Grundar and get his input. He tolerates me and scowls the whole time, but he does what I ask, which is really all I can hope for. "How are you this morning?"