129. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
A vania
It’s been a day since we left my mother’s house, but it feels like a few hoaras . This trip has been like a fantastical dream. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to wake up back in my bed at my mother’s. Being mated, well, happily mated, is too good to be true.
Valeris stays at my side almost all the time, reaching for my hand whenever he feels like it. He’s left a few times to attend to his kingly duties, but mostly we sit in our chairs on the bow and talk or drowse.
He still plays his game, although it’s become more than just for fun. Each kiss feels more serious, more weighty, more compelling.
I had a friend in secondary school who became pregnant while unmated. It scandalized her family, and they sent her to live with her aunt in another city until the youngling was born and she was forced to give her child up for adoption. It was a secret that everyone in town knew.
I couldn’t understand why anyone would do what she did. What would drive her to let a male’s thing inside her? It sounded disgusting and uncomfortable and I always thought it was done only to make babies. I’ll admit, I judged her—harshly.
But things happen in my body every time my mate kisses me. My heart beats faster, my nipples stiffen to hard points, and a drumbeat pounds between my legs. I forgive my friend for doing what she did. Her body probably wanted things. Just like mine now does.
He pulls me onto his lap at all times of the day for his kisses. Except in bed. He never kisses me in bed. I think I know why—he wouldn’t be able to stay true to his promise.
So far, he’s followed those restrictions to the letter. It’s whenever and wherever and for however long he wants. But he only gets one.
He’s kissed one finger a couple of times, the inside my elbow, which was a revelation. That spot made me vibrate with need. I read that males can smell a female’s arousal, and by the way he squirmed in his chair during that kiss, I think he was well aware of the effect he had on me.
Last evening there were several kisses in the span of an hoara , as he circled my neck: the hollow of my throat, the pulsebeat at the side, and right below my ear in a spot that made me gasp with pleasure. Perhaps the best, though, was the nape of my neck.
It felt so good I didn’t say a word when he cheated and kissed me three times. Later, in the refresher, my panties were sopping wet. It made me wish again that I’d finished that discussion with my mom.
Each time he announces it’s time, he asks where he should kiss. And each time, it sounds as if he’s half asking me and half asking himself. Lately, I’ve had shocking, bold thoughts of answering his question. Perhaps he could start with the two diamond-hard points on my chest. But I don’t say it. I haven’t changed that much since the day I waded into the Alagan to pluck a flower.
We’re on the bow as we float south down the river. I like it better than when we hovered north to see my mom. It’s quieter this way, without even the soft hum of the motors. We just float on the current in the bright sunshine, the sun glinting off the water. We hear the quick clicking caws of the stick-legged shorebirds and the longer calls of the birds overhead.
I know he’ll have to get back to his kingly duties soon, and I want to enjoy every moment we have together on what he’s taken to calling our mating trip.
I see a tributary up ahead to our right. There’s something about the way it curves away from the main course of the river that beckons me.
“Can we explore there?” I ask, pointing.
“It looks too narrow,” he says, tipping his head to look closer.
“It does,” I answer, “but not too narrow for the canoe I saw tied to the stern.”
He uses his wrist-comm to call the captain and ask him to stop the boat. The quiet hum of the hover kicks to life and then the ship judders as it slows, then stops.
“Do you know how to paddle a canoe?” he asks. “I don’t.”
“They had some at the social hall people could borrow. I’ve been out on the river many times.”
We hurry to the stern to inspect the canoe, which is, of course, finer than any of the ones I’ve ever been in. Valeris has a heated conversation with the captain of his guards who does all but put his foot down to the King.
“Your Majesty, I strongly advise against this,” the male says. “Strongly. We have no boats small enough to follow you, to protect you. The tributary bends there.” He points. “We won’t even be able to keep you in our line of sight.”
“Look around you, male,” Valeris counters. “Do you see anything other than grazing anlaks , butterflies, and grass? If it will make you feel better, my mate will bring her bow and arrows.”
I’m sure he offers that in jest, but I already had every intention of bringing them even before he suggested it.
Soon we’ve changed out of the loose, silken clothes we wear on the yacht and are wearing sturdier pants and tops. Mine are crimson, as are more than half the clothes he bought for me. He seems to want to remind us of our origins.
He wears black. I think my new mate is handsome even in his worst moment, when he wakes in the morning with his mane shaggy and sleep-tousled. But when he wears black, it makes my tummy flutter. It gives his face a harder edge, as if he’s stern or angry. I clench my thighs together and hope he’ll decide he wants to kiss me in the canoe.
“Valeris, Blanesse braided these rubies into my mane for our mating ceremony. Can you help me take them out before we go? I’d hate to lose them.” I sit at the lighted vanity in the corner of our bedroom as I start to unplait my mane.
“I rather like the beads,” he says. “They look pretty. Besides, I can always find you if I listen for the little tinkle they make when you shake your head.”
We’ve only been together for a few days and now almost everything he says makes my insides turn to warm liquid or clench with desire, or both. I wonder how long we can go on like this before his kisses turn to more.
“They must cost a fortune,” I reply. “Let’s remove them and maybe you can braid them back into my mane later.” Oh, did I say that out loud? It’s a wonderful idea, though. I can imagine him sitting on the lounge on the bow, his feet planted on either side of the chair. My backside would be tucked against him as he leans close to fix my mane.
Just the thought of it does something new to my insides. I feel moist down below. I should borrow his computer pad and look on the Intergalactic Database to see if that’s normal.
“I’ll play with your braids another time, to be sure, but let’s get going before it gets warmer. Those rubies are tiny. It doesn’t matter if you lose a few.”
My head snaps toward him to see if he’s joking. He’s serious. The beads are pure rubies. I’d suspected as much, but he just confirmed it.
My mother’s mating ring, which she still wears proudly so many years after my father died, has a ruby about the size of one of these beads. It’s her prized possession. My father saved for lunars to buy it for her. And to Valeris, it’s nothing.
I know he has wealth beyond compare, but it shocks me how little he values it. I say nothing, though, and we walk to the stern, where one of the staff lowers the shiny silver canoe into the water. Soon we’re paddling upstream into the tributary.
He’s a brilliant male and is going to make a competent and beloved King. He needed very little instruction from me to learn how to steer.
Although we’ve been on the river for days, this is a new way to enjoy it. We’re closer to the water, and can see the little schools of silver fish darting nearby. The buzzing of insects creates background music to our trip. I like that Valeris feels no need to fill the air with talk. We’ve already learned how to enjoy each other in companionable silence. I feel closer to my new mate by the minima.
When I hear a rich baritone voice singing, I’m so startled, my head turns, whipping to look at my mate. The stern, serious male I met the day of our mating, the Prince I watched grow up on newscasts, the person I observed at his parents’ funeral as he used every iota of energy not to show the world his grief—that male is singing happily in the rear of our little canoe. And he’s smiling! It’s a four-fanged smile—the best kind!
I’m falling in love with my new mate. It’s only taken me a couple of days. And more shocking than that? I don’t see a reason to stop myself.
“You have a beautiful voice,” I call to him once I’m facing forward.
“And you have a beautiful face,” he retorts without skipping a beat.
Is this really happening? I feel lighter than air and happier than I’ve been in a long time. Actually, I’ve been a happy child most of my life, but I never looked at the future as if it had something wonderful in store for me. I do now.
I’m in the front. My job is to power the boat. Valeris steers in the back. He’s pulling us over to the shore to a place that has a tiny sandy beach, as opposed to most of the riverbank that is filled with tall, marshy weeds.
“What are we doing?” I call out happily.
“I need something from shore,” he says.
He pulls us over and easily lifts the stern far enough onto the sand to keep it from floating off. It makes it easy for me to join him on dry land.
“You can wait here if you want. I’ll be back shortly,” he says as he strikes off through the calf-high grasses.
That almost sounds like a challenge. Of course, I’m not going to remain here. I snatch up my bow and arrows out of habit and scurry to follow him, soon realizing that calf-high grasses to my mate are thigh-high grasses to me.
Now it’s apparent where he’s headed. There’s a grove of pellum trees in full bloom. The pellum blooms are big, some large as a dinner plate, and full of rows of petals. They range from white, through corals and pinks, all the way to the deep crimson blooms like the one I plucked from the Alagan.
The ones he’s striding toward are pink. Pellums also have a heady, sweet aroma that becomes more pungent during the heat of the day as the sun beats down on them. I can smell them from here. I vow to never wear any other scent until my end of days.
My considerate mate stopped the boat and is striding through this meadow just to pluck me a bloom and hand it to me. Whatever cage I’ve managed to keep around my heart suddenly melts so hard and fast it brings tears to my eyes.
Am I the luckiest person in the galaxy? How did I manage to make the gods smile down upon me and gift me with this male? Most of the girls in my school would have been happy to mate the king even if he’d been old, shriveled, ugly, and mean. But my king is young and handsome and look at him. He’s smiling so happily as he returns with what must be the most perfect bloom in the entire grove.
I let my bow and arrows fall to the ground as I run to him. I want to tell him how I feel. The next time he asks where I want a kiss, I’m boldly going to tell him I want one on my lips. No, I want dozens. And if that goes well, there are other places I want his plush lips to land.
“Valeris,” I say breathlessly when I reach him. I didn’t run far. I’m breathless not from exertion, but from all the heady feelings swirling inside me.
“Let me put this in your mane, Love,” he says as he pulls me in front of him so he can place the flower in my mane from behind.
I’m focused on his hands as they work their way through my mane, and the warmth of his body as it molds itself to my back. It takes a moment for me to replay his words. Did he just call me his love? Is it possible he’s beginning to care for me the way I care for him?
His hands quit moving and every muscle in his body tightens against mine. When I pay attention to our surroundings, I see four young males approaching us. One carries a stickbat as if they were out to play a game of halchuck . One carries the small ball and a mitt.
But these males, some a few annums older than me, some a bit younger, don’t look like they’re about to play a game. They look predatory, and they’re coming straight at us.
“Give us your money,” the largest calls, still many steps away. Are they brothers? They look alike and seem to be like stairsteps.
“Run to the canoe,” Valeris says, his voice a low growl. “Wait for me there. If things don’t work out here, paddle back to the yacht. Comm the guards.”
“No! I’m not leaving you.” There are four guard boats on the river. None are built to hover over land. We’d need a different hover, all the way from the palace, to come save us.
“I’m your mate. You will obey me.” I’ve never heard this tone of voice before. It’s almost a snarl. “You’re too precious,” he says, softer now. “I couldn’t bear it if I got you hurt. Run! Now!”
The males are bowed up. The one with the bat is thumping it against his palm. They don’t need to threaten with their words, their body language is doing a good job of it. As if on some prearranged signal, they come at us faster now. With purpose.
There’s no reason they would change their minds. We look like a young couple on a date. There’s nothing to tell them they’re about to commit mayhem upon their King.
“Avania, now .”
There’s something about the tone of his voice, no longer commanding in a kingly way, but fraught with concern for me, that frees me from my paralysis. I dart back toward the river, easily following my original path from where I tramped through the tall grass.
I find my bow and arrows, throw the quiver over my shoulder, and nock an arrow in the span of a few breaths. When I turn, arrow already pulled back, ready to release, I see three of the males have descended on my mate. The biggest one is running toward me.
“Halt!” I yell, my voice so deep and deadly every one of them turns toward me.
Luckily, the male who is only a few long strides from me halts. Perhaps it’s because my arrow is aimed directly at his heart.
“On the ground,” I order. “On your bellies.”
When they don’t comply immediately, I let loose an arrow into the bark of a nearby pellum tree. It passes not more than a few inces from the closest one’s ear.
“Ground! Now!”
“Do as she says,” the big one in front of me orders. All four hoodlums comply.
“You, join the others,” I tell the one who’s only a few fiertos from my feet.
He rises, hands in the air, and walks in front of me while I keep all of them at bay with another arrow nocked and aimed at the closest one’s head.
“Send a cadre of armed guards down this tributary,” Valeris is calmly speaking into his comm. “Use a hover. You’ll need to take four people into custody.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt this male,” I seethe. “He’s your King.”
They all strain to look at him from their places on the ground.
“We’re sorry, Your Majesty,” the one with the bat says. “We were hungry.”
“Hungry?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. The heavy rains gutted our parents’ crops. The vegetable garden is ruined. They needed to sell our anlaks to pay the rent, and that leaves us without milk, meat, or money.”
As if on cue, one of their stomachs rumbles.
“Hungry?” Valeris repeats as if he never knew such a thing existed. “You live nearby?”
“You’re in our field, sire. Our house is there, through the trees. We had thought the King’s males, um, your males, would buy our pellum flowers for Zaypien Day like they do every annum , but they skipped us for some reason. It was our last hope of income until we can harvest our next crops.”
My arrow is still pulled taut, aimed at the eldest’s back as he lies on the ground, but my attention is focused on my mate. He’s stunned, his perfect mouth hanging open in surprise.
“You have no money for food?” he asks in a daze, as if the male hadn’t just explained his circumstances quite well.
“No, Your Majesty.”
“And if you all go to jail?” I ask, knowing my mate needs to hear this next part to fully understand the situation.
“We deserve to go to jail,” the eldest says earnestly. “No doubt about it. But if we do, our parents will certainly lose the farm. They need us to work the fields. My father is aging and can’t run the operation by himself. He has no money to pay extra hands.”
I remove the arrow from the bow and return it to my quiver, then join my mate where he stands next to the four of them.
“How many times have you done such a thing?” Valeris asks. “How many others have you accosted for money?”
“Never, sire. We were just out playing halchuck . We saw you. Your clothing speaks of wealth and we decided to do something stupid. I’ll regret it until my dying day.”
We both glance up when we hear the low hum of approaching hovers, what sounds like an army of them. The captain of the yacht obviously relayed the order to the castle.
“Stand!” Valeris orders. “Hurry.”
The males stand, their hands in the air.
“Hands at your sides,” Valeris hisses.
They hurry to comply.
“Walk us to your home,” Valeris says, his voice calm as he slides his arm around my waist and leans to kiss the top of my head.
A hover lands in front of us and a dozen males disgorge from the ramp, guns drawn. The brothers raise their hands in surrender as Valeris’s rich voice booms, “Stop males. You’ve done nothing wrong. You fought off the four males who were trying to rob the Queen and me. You’ve saved us and deserve a reward.”
All four heads whip in the King’s direction, eight eyes are big as saucers. I don’t blame them for being shocked. Valeris’s change of heart surprises me, too.
Valeris stalks toward the captain of the guard, no doubt repeating the lie he just created. All the hovers but one leave in search of the four miscreants they’ll never find.
The males’ parents are watching from their porch, not knowing what to do. The father has a laser rifle in his hand, but the barrel is pointed at the ground. The black hovers bear the King’s crimson crest.
The captain of the guard accompanies us to the front yard of the dilapidated farmhouse, but Valeris instructs him to wait as we approach the parents, the four males in tow.
Valeris introduces himself, which makes the parents quake in fear. He then orders the boys to admit their misdeeds. I think both mother and father are going to faint on the spot. When that doesn’t happen, the parents scold their sons to within an ince of their lives, which seems to make Valeris quite happy.
“I understand the torrential rains ruined your crops, Mr.…?” he pauses, encouraging the male to state his name.
“Chardon, Chantis and Elena Chardon,” the male says respectfully. “Aye. The merona beans don’t take kindly to that much water when they’re germinating,” the father says.
“They also told me my staff forgot to buy your pellum flowers this annum .”
The mother and father nod.
“It was certainly a mistake. Let me correct that inadvertent error.”
He stands behind me and begins to unplait my mane. Had this event happened yesterday, I don’t think he would have even thought of the rubies as valuable. As he works each ruby out of my mane, he drops it onto my open palm.
I have no idea how much pellum flowers are worth, but by the wide-eyed family watching this operation, I’m certain they weren’t worth nearly as much as the growing mound of rubies in my palm.
“Here,” he says as he gently grips my wrist and gestures it toward the couple. “Is this enough?”
The mother makes a shocked noise somewhere between a cough and a sputter.
“No, Your Majesty,” she says, shaking her head in shock, not denial.
“I’m sorry. This is all we have. I can instruct my staff to contact you with more.”
The father’s mouth popped open as if he were going to interrupt his monarch, but he snapped it closed until Valeris finished his sentence.
“I don’t know the price of rubies, your Majesty, but I imagine one is enough,” he says, his wife nodding her head in firm agreement as Valeris thrusts my extended hand toward them.
“Take them all. I want your farm to thrive.”
“As I said, I don’t know the price of rubies, but one should certainly be enough,” the male says as he plucks a bead from the pile. “If you’re so set on giving away your lovely Queen’s baubles, might I be so bold as to suggest you start a fund? Small farms like ours, devastated by the heavy rains, could apply for loans to help us through the hard times.”
My mate’s hand still surrounds my wrist. I feel it tighten and hear him swallow. He’s standing behind me, but I wonder if his eyes are as misty as my own.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” my mate says as he slips the rest of the gems into his pocket. “I’ll do that if you tell me how you’re going to punish these young males of yours.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” It’s the mother who says this. “There are plenty of extra chores around this house that will be performed by the four young males standing in front of you today.”
“The social hall needs a thorough cleaning,” the father says, “and Mr. Bethorne down the road needs work on his barn. Don’t you worry, King Valeris. These boys will not forget their misdeeds. Whether it was to the poorest farmer or the King himself, that behavior will not be tolerated.”
“See to it these males learn their lesson,” Valeris admonishes as the captain of the guard approaches.
He wants to hover us back to the palace after what he calls our “ordeal.” Valeris dips his head to ask if that’s what I want and I shake my head. Now, more than ever, I want to finish our mating trip in the quiet privacy of our pleasure barge.
“You’re going to have to teach me how to shoot that bow and arrow,” Valeris says as we return to our canoe. “Maybe with practice, I’ll be as good as you.”
When we arrive at the riverbank, I see he must have snagged another perfect pellum flower from the orchard we walked through. He weaves it into my mane before we enter the canoe to return to the yacht.
“Prettier than rubies,” he says with a contented smile, his tail swishing lazily against the tall grass.
Our trip isn’t quiet, as it had been when we paddled here. We can no longer hear the buzz of insects or the quiet splash of the water against the sides of the canoe. We hear hovers, now flanking us on both banks, soldiers leaning out of the doors, laser rifles drawn.
They wanted to fly us back to the yacht, but I’m glad Valeris insisted we paddle back. It’s giving me time to process what just happened.
I told my new mate I wanted to get to know him. It was one thing to watch him in the privacy of the Sun , or see how he dealt with his staff at the palace. It was quite another to watch him with the Chardons.
Instead of being bent on punishment, or oblivious to their suffering, Valeris immediately saw the situation for what it was. His first impulse wasn’t retribution, it was to help.
In some ways, he is the Boy King. He impulsively wanted to give all the rubies to the Chardons. It took the wise, altruistic counsel of Mr. Chardon to help him see it would be better to spread the wealth to many in need, not just the one family he knew personally.
I hope he doesn’t forget this before he returns to the palace and his duties. Having the thought of doing something is different from doing it.
“I know just the person for the job,” he says from behind as we paddle. “Arcknon, a friend from boarding school, can head up the new farming loan program.”
Yes. That’s my mate. He’s as good as his word.
Any reservations I had about allowing myself to open to him have evaporated. I can allow myself to follow my heart.