Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Their king chained his wife first, and it would be oo’ed and ah’ed over for the next days, weeks, indeed done so in a way it would continue for years, the memory of their tall, mighty king bent to their small, dainty queen, the grin playing about his lips as he threaded the gold and diamonds and onyx and rubies through her marital hoops.
And it would be clucked and cooed over for the next days, weeks (and possibly years), the memory of their small, dainty queen hesitantly, but reverently—and those close caught sight of (and later shared wide) the tears trembling in her eyes—while their tall, mighty king stayed bent so his new wife could chain her husband.
But most, it was sighed and whimpered over when she’d latched the end of her chain to the hoop at his lip, gaining his honesty for their entire marriage, and to a gasp from his audience, he’d immediately caught her at the back of her head.
There he’d fisted her shining curls in his long fingers and shoved her face in his wide chest as he bowed his back and roared his triumph to the cedars, the snow-capped mountaintops, the lake, the city, and the nation of Firenze.
Their king was pleased with his new queen.
As it should be.
This he did before he pulled her head back by her hair, rounded her with his other arm, scraped her bodily up his frame, held her tight to him with her feet dangling above the ground, and took her mouth in a ravenous (and very long) kiss.
This last had the rest of the assemblage roaring.
And they did this in a way that it carried on and on, down the long mountain path, along the parade route into the city, all the way back to the palace, even if thousands of them had no idea why they were cheering.
Proudly wearing her chain, with his Dellish-no-more bride at his side bearing his, King Mars then lifted her ever farther, to her surprised cry, to seat her on his shoulder, curling his long, powerful arm around her curvy white thighs.
And as such, he carried her back down the mountain to their waiting steeds, the blades of his kilt swaying, the heels of his sandals steady on the rocky earth.
The people of Firenze would talk much about the majestic nuptials, but little about their king deciding to wear more traditional gear to his wedding.
They liked the new leathers he and his men had been displaying.
They’d always liked the kilt.
However, they suspected (what they did not know was rightly) that he wore his kilt to honor his father.
And the people definitely approved of that.
Once King Mars had his queen down the mountain path, only then did their king finally seat their new queen on her own mount.
Surrounded by their Trusted, with her white skirts trailing down the flank of her horse, her shapely, pale legs bared to all eyes, skillfully settled in her saddle, dark hair streaming down her back, their new queen alongside their king galloped to the palace amongst loud cheers and shouts, floating red petals, coins tossed at the hooves of their horses and lit arrows scoring through the sky and popping cheerfully mid-air.
The people of Firenze were heartened to see their queen was a good horsewoman.
But that was not the only reason it was cried by thousands of voices all along the route, “Long live King Mars and Silence, our new queen!”
And many of the people of Firenze meant these words.
For only a true Firenz queen would yawn at the pits, cuddled into her king, wearing the blood of the vanquished as if it was naught but a shift of raw silk, watching the death throes of traitors as if they were the vaguely interesting flights of bumblebees.
And only a true Firenz queen would race down a mountain on her steed with her silk flowing, her skin exposed and glowing, her hair streaming in the wind, her husband close to her side.
It was also watched by a certain few.
A few who did so silently.
And these few had altogether different ideas.
39
The Marital Bed
Queen Silence
Royal Palace Gardens, Catrame Palace, Fire City
FIRENZE
It would be hours into our reception before I was finally separated from Mars.
And I did not wish to be such, but I could not deny I was glad of it.
I needed a moment.
A sip of water.
Some quiet.
Solitude.
Time to process what I’d experienced that day.
Time to process what I’d seen.
Time to think.
I could do none of that as Mars guided me from person to person, group to group.
He did this with open pride, which was rather charming.
But there were things…
Such things about him that I had learned.
Things…
I straightened my spine as I moved through the guests, being sure to keep my chin up, catch eyes, smile or nod.
Elpis had warned me, and it stood to reason that this would be a highly-attended affair.