Chapter Six
When we walked back into the huge dining hall, everyone turned to look at the three of us.
Mainly, I think, because Tarrak was still stubbornly holding onto my arm.
We walked up to the dais and he tried to help me up the steps.
I resented the fact he thought I needed it. I was almost as tall as he and though I wasn’t as strong, I was still a man and had no need of his damn hand. I pushed him away and surprised a laugh from him. When we reached our seats, I sat down but he remained standing. A hush came over the crowd as he looked out over them.
“Stand up and give me your hand.”
I got my feet again—really, if he’d just told me what he was planning, I wouldn’t have sat down in the first place.
I gave him a resentful look as I stood and took the large warm hand he offered, then turned to face the assembled guests.
He was only holding the ends of my fingers, but it was oddly comforting, and I didn’t feel quite so alone up there on the dais with everyone looking at us.
The huge double doors opened at the back of the hall and as we watched, a long procession of Ice Soldiers marched in, starting toward us.
They were all wearing their formal uniforms, I supposed, because they looked very fine indeed, in their white leather trimmed in rabbit fur so white it made my teeth ache.
They wore long capes that almost swept the floor, and their long swords were at their sides.
As they filed past in front of us, they pulled the swords from the scabbards and saluted us with them.
One of them stood to the side and blew his faint high horn that sang out as clear and thin as a winter birdsong.
They made me think of The Nutcracker, a ballet that had been popular in my country a few years before.
It featured an army of toy soldiers come to life to aid the Nutcracker in his battle with the King of the Mice, as I recalled.
Not that I had seen it, of course, though I would have loved to.
I had read about it in the newspapers the blacksmith kept with the kindling pile. The drawings looked splendid and proud like these glittering soldiers with the jewels in their pale, braided hair.
These were no toy soldiers, though.
They were fierce looking and strong, despite their obvious beauty.
I glanced over at the handsome king, at his manliness and strength, and realized he had a code of honor—despite his utter ruthlessness and savagery.
The Elven code was incomprehensible to me, but they all believed in it. I would have to work within that code if I were to save myself, or else this man and these soldiers were going to get me killed if my plan didn’t work. My brain was in a turmoil, going over and over the plan in my head as I stood there trying to think how to proceed.
After they passed in review, one of the men who had been talking to Tarrak earlier came over to stand in front of us and read a long passage in some language that wasn’t Russian and that I didn’t understand a word of.
He droned on and on and my mind began to wander.
There was no escape from this place.
I didn’t even know where I was, really, and for all I knew I wasn’t even in the mortal realm anymore, as I had previously suspected.
Instead, I had to make Tarrak forget his incredibly stupid idea about taking me to the Dokkalfar king.
No, I had to make him love me.
If he were in love with me, then I’d be able to persuade him before we arrived.
At least I hoped so.
Would my idea work? Could I make a love potion and get King Tarrak to drink it? He’d agreed to do it.
It was a wild idea, but I could get the ingredients—some of them I already had from the ones I had used to ease Juul’s pain, and I knew how to make one.
It was a dangerous ploy, but I had to find a way to save myself, because it wasn’t just about convincing a Dark Elf king not to kill me.
It was about Tarrak falling desperately in love, the way he would be after downing my love potion—assuming it worked—and then doing anything to save me, including keeping me far away from the Dokkalfar. The hell with his honor.
The councilor finished reading, the thin horn sounded again, and Tarrak turned to me, holding out his hand.
I looked down at it uncomprehendingly, and Tarrak said, “Take my hand.”
The councilor had finished his long speech, apparently, but since I didn’t understand what he was saying anyway, I allowed my attention to wander for many minutes until Tarrak poked me in the side with his elbow.
“Answer him, Pavel,” he said.
“Answer what? What should I say?”
Tarrak rolled his eyes and whispered to me, his lips quirking up in a smile.
“Say yes.”
“Oh.”
I turned to the councilor who was looking up at me expectantly. “Yes,”
I said firmly and loudly with a smile and a nod.
It seemed to make the man happy because he looked relieved and nodded before launching back into the reading again.
The man droned on and on and I was beginning to get tired.
I heaved a long sigh and saw Tarrak glance over at me curiously.
The old man put up his scroll, and he waited as one of the other councilors turned to the elf beside him, who opened a rich looking box and extracted an ornate golden crown and a long necklace.
The crown was much fancier than the one I currently wore, but it was more delicate and didn’t look as heavy. The necklace, however, looked as if it would weigh a ton. It was a gold chain with some kind of round disc hanging from it. The old man took the items reverently in his hands and handed them to the king, who let go of my hand and turned to face me.
“Take off the crown I gave you and kneel in front of me.”
I dropped to one knee and removed the heavy gold crown from my head.
Tarrak placed the elaborate and heavy chain around my neck and then replaced the heavy crown he’d already given me, saying, “Arise, King’s Consort.”
I scrambled to my feet as Tarrak held out his hand to me again.
The king turned me to face the guests, and there was polite applause, and then both of us sat back down.
So that, apparently, was that.
I was now a married man and consort to the Quendi King.
And I was in so much trouble.
That very night I began to gather up what I’d need to make my love potion.
When I was back in my chambers, in front of a roaring fire, I called for the servants to bring me something to eat.
I’d been too angry to eat earlier and now I was starving.
I had a plate of food and a large glass of the white wine I liked at hand and all the elements I needed for my potion laid out on a small worktable in front of me.
I’d directed the servants to bring the ingredients, and I had to admit I was finding servants to be extremely useful. Though it shamed me to admit it, I could easily grow used to having them around. Another reason it was so dangerous for me to linger too long here in this fae world. If I didn’t get out of there soon, I’d grow as fat and lazy as my father.
One single dose of a love potion typically lasted up to forty-eight hours, but the precise duration was dependent on many factors, such as the weight of the drinker, as well as the attractiveness of the giver.
I could estimate Tarrak’s weight pretty closely, and I knew he was attracted to me, though he didn’t seem overly excited about having me as his consort.
As for the potion, I had the advantage of having Tarrak’s willing participation, which made everything much easier.
Love potions were best served in a glass of wine, when the subject was in a calm and unstressed state of mind.
I had decided it would be best to wait and have Tarrak take the potion the night before we arrived in Dokkalfar territory, or even that morning, to make sure it was still active and potent when we faced the Dark Elf king.
The potion took effect right away and was from an ancient recipe.
It consisted of seven coriander seeds and water taken from the melted snow under a moon, which was helpfully full.
I added some wild honey and a few drops of my blood. Crushing the coriander, I blessed it twice, then stirred it seven times with the other ingredients and strained it all through the sheerest cobwebs the servants could find, the way my grandmother had shown me. While I worked, I sang one of the old lullabies she’d taught me and imagined the handsomest man I knew and how his face might look if he was making love to me. I wanted to be in the right frame of mind after all. And the face I imagined was nobody’s business but my own.
The antidote was easy enough too, and only required me to add in all the ingredients in opposite order.
Then as I worked, I imagined my former employer, the blacksmith, an imminently unattractive and unlovable soul.
By the time I finished, it was growing late, and I was almost asleep, lulled by the heavy meal, the sweet song, and the warm fire.
So, after I roused enough to pour my concoctions into two clean glass jars and labeled them carefully, I fell across the bed, tired out from my adventures that day.
I slid under the covers, pulled the heavy quilt tightly around me, and slipped thankfully into my dreams.
The next morning, I personally gave the jars of the potion and the antidote to the king, imploring him to keep them safe and reminding him they were vital to our success.
****
The night after our wedding, just after we ate dinner, the king asked for a servant to come escort me to my bedchamber.
“I need to speak to Lord Juul and my other councilors privately, Pavel.
Go to bed and wait.
It’s already past time you collected your payment.”
When I looked blankly at him, he shook his head.
“Your rights, Pavel.
I promised you that you’d have them when we were married.”
I nodded, trembling a little, and followed the servant to my room.
The time had arrived, and I could find no way to put it off any longer.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
Making love to this beautiful Elven king with hair and skin and eyes that all looked as if he’d been dipped in silver, or maybe moonbeams, should please me, shouldn’t it? It was a thing that few other mortals would ever get to do. He was my husband now after all. So why did I feel like this was so wrong?
When I arrived in my chamber, I saw there was great hustle and bustle going on.
A fragrant tub of water awaited me by the fireplace, and the servants came right away to help me get out of my clothes and step inside it.
They bathed me with their usual thoroughness and even washed and perfumed my hair.
Afterward, they wrapped me in big drying cloths and sat me by the fireplace to brush my hair until it was dry and shining. When they were satisfied, one of them brought over a gorgeous brocade robe that enveloped me all the way to my ankles.
I was as ready as I’d ever be.
I sat by the fire, warming my toes while the servants cleared everything away.
I’d told the king I was a virgin, and I was, though I’d let a boy who lived in my grandmother’s village steal a kiss or two from me when I figured out I liked men much more than women.
I’d lived around animals all my life, so I knew basically what was involved, but that only served to make me more apprehensive and not less. I’d had enough time to work myself up into a bundle of nerves by the time the door opened. Only it wasn’t the king who was standing there.
It was Lord Juul.
Feeling confused, I stood up.
“Is the king going to be delayed?”
He took a step farther inside and carefully closed the door behind him.
“He’s not coming, Pavel.
The king has sent me as his proxy.”
I shook my head.
“I must have misheard you.
He sent you as his what?”
“His proxy.
His stand-in…”
His face clouded and he frowned—his usual expression when he was dealing with me.
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand me, Pavel.
I’m here to give you your rights in the place of the king.”
I rubbed a hand across my forehead.
This place and these people were so incomprehensible.
And insane.
I couldn’t forget insane.
“But I don’t understand.
Why does he need a proxy? Am I so repugnant to him that he…”
“Stop, Pavel.
You know better than that.
You informed the king that no matter what happens, you don’t wish to stay in Quendi territory.
You said you wanted enough gold to be able to go home to stay with your brother and buy yourself an apprenticeship. He accepted the bargain. So how can he be expected then to tie himself to you? He went through with the marriage so he could satisfy this debt of honor with the Dokkalfar king, but afterward, he has to be able to annul this marriage. Frankly, he never thought it would be an issue until he found out you were… Well, anyway, it wouldn’t be fair to whomever he marries later on and chooses for his Second Consort. Yet he doesn’t wish to cheat you. So, the council offered him a way out. To choose a proxy and have that man deliver your rights to you.”
I could feel my face burning with humiliation.
“What happened then? Did you draw straws, and you got the shortest one? No thank you, Lord Juul.
I know how repelled you must be by the idea.
I’m letting you off the hook.”
He came charging over to me, looking as if he wanted to strike me.
I made a fist and squared off to him, ready to defend myself.
He grabbed both my arms and instantly I was aware my strength was nothing compared to his.
He shook me—not too hard but certainly enough to get my attention.
“You don’t know anything.
I volunteered to do this.”
“Why would you do that? I know how much you hate me.”
“It’s not a matter of…you’re so impossible to talk to! Listen to me.
I went to find you.
I made the bargain, so the right is mine and mine alone.”
“Oh, I see.
This is about your bargain and your rights.
I should have known.”
“No!”
he shouted at me, right in my face, and I shrank away from all that fury and passion.
He let me go and began pacing in front of the fireplace.
He stopped after a moment and stared down at me.
“It’s not just that. You confuse me, and you have since the first time I saw you singing to your brother in that hovel you lived in. You make me feel things I don’t want to feel.”
“What kind of things?”
“When the king touches you…when he…”
He blew out a frustrated breath.
“I love my king, but I find I don’t want anyone else touching you except me.
I didn’t know it would be that way.
It shouldn’t be that way! But you belong to me, damn you. I made the bargain and you’re mine.”
“B-but you hate me.”
He shook his head.
“It doesn’t seem to matter.”
He took a step toward me then and then another.
We stared at each other for a moment.
His eyes were wild and stormy, and I think we were both shocked by his words.
I’m not sure who moved first, but we suddenly collided, crashing into each other’s arms. He bent me back over his arm and ravaged my mouth as I threw my arms around his neck and clung to him helplessly.
“Tell me you want this,”
he growled at me.
“Tell me you find me acceptable.”
I nodded, too overcome for actual speech.
I kissed him instead, because when our lips had touched, it was like lightning had struck me.
I wanted that feeling again.
He kissed me back but then pulled his head away to look down at me as if trying to gauge whether or not I was telling the truth and truly wanted this. I tried to pull myself together enough to tell him how I felt.
“If you’re wondering if this is a good idea,”
I said, panting a little for breath after the frantic kissing.
“I’d have to say, no, it’s an awful one.
We’ll probably fight every day.
We may wind up killing each other. But if you’re asking me if I want to do it anyway, then the answer is oh, yes. Yes, please. Make love to me, Lord Juul. I want you so much. I think it’s-it’s always been you, even though I thought you hated me.”
As I heard the words tumble from my lips, I realized it was true.
When I first saw him standing outside my father’s door, so cold and so perfect, I had been terrified and yet attracted to this glorious being.
Then when I met the king, I found him even more handsome, but his beauty made him almost too otherworldly, too untouchable, like everything else in this glittery kingdom.
No one seemed real.
No one except Juul, who argued with me, scorned me, infuriated me and stuck beside me every step of the way.
He had been the only real thing in this palace of fantasy.
He pulled me closer and kissed me again, a slower kiss this time and less urgent but still dangerously captivating.
It succeeded in invading every inch of me, staking claim to everything I was and everything I had to offer—even the parts of me I tried to hold back.
There was no use in even trying to hide from him though.
He had totally seduced me at the first touch of his lips to mine. Even before that if I were honest..
He swept me up in his arms to take me to stand by the bed so he could undo the clasp of my robe.
It fell to my feet and he stood for a moment just looking down at me.
“You’re so beautiful, Pavel, but if you don’t wish this to happen…I would never force you.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t…but I do.
I really do.
Please, Juul.”
He took me in his arms and laid me in bed, then quickly divested himself of his clothing.
As I knew he would be, he was beautifully made.
His body was all lean muscle, as hard as frost and as beautiful as an ice sculpture.
But that moonbeam skin was as warm as it was silky to the touch.
I’d never seen a man naked before, other than glimpses here and there of my father and my little brother, of course, but even then, I averted my eyes.
I had wondered what Juul would be like—he was so perfect everywhere else.
When I saw the long, pale length of his cock, I was speechless for a moment.
It was beautiful. I think that all men must take a great interest in their cocks and wonder if they’re long enough and thick enough and if others would find them attractive. I know I did. I think Juul didn’t ever have to wonder, but I also think that when I saw him, I gave his cock the admiration and attention it truly deserved.
“You’re very sweet when you’re not berating me,”
he murmured, holding himself up on his elbows and staring down at me.
He leaned forward and effortlessly pulled me up to drop another soft kiss on my lips and trail kisses down my throat.
Impatiently, I thrust up against him, wanting to move things along, pushing my aching cock against his stomach and grinding into him a little.
I moaned and he smiled at me, carding his fingers through my hair.
“So soft and silky.
It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as yours.
Silver and gold,”
I said, touching his hair in return.
“St.
Peter said, “Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, give I to thee.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me in confusion.
“St.
Peter is from the Christian Bible.
My mother used to quote it to me when I was a child.”
He shook his head and smiled.
“I understand you are new to this, but this is not a time to think about your mother or any kind of religious instruction, Pavel.”
Smiling and trembling, I threw my arms around his neck and moaned at his touch.
He rolled over to put me on my back and paid attention to my body for a while.
He seemed to like my cock just fine too and kissed it and fondled it.
I arched into his hand and was so afraid I’d spill my seed right then and embarrass myself. Somehow, I held on as he kissed the side of my face and my throat for what seemed like hours, passing his hands over my body and driving me insane, before he finally positioned himself between my thighs. He reached for the bottle of oil on the table beside the bed—helpfully supplied by the servants I supposed. Pulling one of my legs up on his hip, he eased in a well-oiled finger. We both groaned and he kissed me again, lingering over my lips this time. By the time he added another finger, much, much later, I was already almost a puddle on the bed. But when I felt the second finger enter, and he rubbed inside me, I arched my back, widened my eyes, and came all over both of us.
He bent to kiss me and made soothing sounds against my mouth, but he didn’t stop or slow down—I didn’t think either of us could have at that point.
He continued to rock his fingers inside me and pulled me up to him when I cried out soon again.
I had no idea it felt like this and I lost control a little.
Thankfully, I was very young and had great recovery powers. He soothed my cries and petted and kissed me until I began to want more again. I turned my head and licked the corner of his mouth and gently bit his bottom lip. “Make love to me, my Lord.”
He smiled down at me.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“No, I mean…”
Boldly, I gripped his cock, and he hissed at me.
“I want this inside me.”
“Your wish is my command, Pavel.”
He pushed me over on my stomach and helped me to my knees.
Then he parted my thighs, lined up his cock, and pushed it in, gently but insistently, not stopping when I cried out.
After a moment, the pain eased some, but he lay still inside me, letting me get used to this feeling of being so full and stretched.
When I began to beg him to move, to do something, he pulled out and pushed back in again and again, impaling me, thrusting hard against me. I wanted more of him, and soon I was in a frenzy of need. I put a hand on his hip to hold him there, because I couldn’t get close enough to him, the heat curling in my belly again and tingling along my spine. He sat back, pulling me up with him so that I was sitting in his lap. I began to come, and this time he came with me, buried deep inside me, his mouth open in a wordless cry.
He fell down on his side, still holding me and with his cock still inside me.
He pressed his forehead against the nape of my neck, and I could feel his heart bumping rapidly against my back.
I turned to look at him over my shoulder, to find him staring steadily back at me.
We lay there together until he softened and he rolled over on his back. I rolled over too so I could be closer to him. I snuggled close and put a leg over his, and he rubbed his hand over my hip. After a while, we made love again. And again and again. Finally, I fell asleep, exhausted and sated, neither of us feeling able to even speak.