Chapter Fourteen
William
Concern gnawed at William. The way Iver’s face had turned ashen worried him.
Iver insisted he was fine, but he’d struggled to keep up with William earlier.
Perhaps he’d overexerted himself during their first, wild dance.
Thankfully, the moment of weakness passed, and for the rest of the evening, Iver didn’t move from his side.
It was long past midnight when they returned to their rooms. William expected Iver to change in the dressing room and leave to spend the night elsewhere, but he surprised him when he threw his nightshirt on and joined him in their bedchamber.
That morning, Iver had looked as fabulous as always, but that didn’t mean he’d slept. The discovery of the dagger had been a shock. Iver was probably as exhausted as he was apprehensive to share a bed with the man who might’ve hidden a weapon under his pillow.
“Look,” William said as he climbed into bed after Iver, “I want you to have a good night’s sleep.
After everything that’s happened, would you feel better if you tied my wrists to the bedpost?
” He didn’t know what had overcome him to suggest this except that he wanted Iver to feel safe.
Why? Had a few world-shattering orgasms been enough to change his opinion of Iver?
Or was it the way Iver supported him in matters of the state, spent his free time with him or was stately company for a ball?
“It’s fine,” Iver said, surprising him once more when he pulled him into his arms. “I don’t think the dagger was yours.”
William came to rest half on top of Iver, half on the sheets. In the low light of the single candle left burning, he searched Iver’s eyes. “What’s changed your mind?”
“You don’t seem to be the scheming kind. I should’ve realized that yesterday. Also, if you killed me, the alliance between our kingdoms would be forfeit. The Winter Court would go to my heir—”
“But you don’t have an heir.”
“Well, I don’t have children, but the line of succession would still apply, and the throne would go to Silenia.
” Iver grimaced as if he tasted bile. “What I’m trying to say is that you wouldn’t benefit from my death.
On the contrary, you’d be trapped, your closest ally in the faerie realm gone.
I see no reason why you’d want that. Could you’ve obtained the dagger for protection?
Maybe. But then, as long as I don’t try to hurt you, I’m still safe. ”
William dropped his head on Iver’s shoulder. “I’m glad I married you.”
“How so?”
“Because you have a political mind. I hadn’t even thought of your line of reasoning. Whenever trouble arises, you know what to do. It’s good to have you by my side.”
Iver kissed the top of his head, catching William off guard with the gentleness of the gesture. As William’s eyes fell closed, Iver ran a hand down his back, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The next day brought a missive from one of William’s lieges in the western valleys. Lady Balfe of Firshaw was imploring him to grant her assistance. The orcs had cut off her supply lines, and she didn’t know how to hold her castle even as winter was driving the orcs back in many places.
Good thing that he and Iver had scheduled the send-off of the winter fae troops for that day.
They were to report to James, who could then delegate them to other lords and ladies as he saw fit.
While William had gained the confidence to draft a response to Lady Balfe, assuring her that help was on the way, he was glad to have Iver by his side.
It was mid-afternoon when the midwife approached them in a quiet moment in the courtyard after the send-off ceremony. She was a fae of Iver’s court, the pointy tips of her ears poking out of her dark hair.
“Your Majesties,” she said, bowing, “I’ve just been to Her Highness Princess Ailenor and the Countess of Northwood’s. I’ve examined them, and it appears we have a fertile window.”
“Already?” William asked.
“Vigorous sexual activity can induce ovulation early,” the midwife said without a hint of color on her cheeks.
William, on the other hand, felt the heat shoot into his face. This was more information than necessary. “I see.”
The midwife pulled two small clay jars from a leather satchel.
One was painted white, which she handed to Iver, the other black, which she gave to William.
“Deposit your seed in these. The larger the sample, the better.” She looked at them sternly.
“When you’re done, have a servant bring them to me at once. ”
Iver expressed his gratitude, and then the midwife was off. William stared at the jar in his hand. He hadn’t thought this moment would come so soon. He’d always wanted to be a father, but now he wondered if he was ready. Whether he was woefully unfit.
Iver put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re having second thoughts?” A reassuring smile lifted his lips.
William shook his head. “No, it’s not that.”
“Then don’t think too much about it.” Iver’s eyes were soft. “I’ve come into this marriage wanting an heir, but I’d also like to be a father. We’ll be good parents. Not perfect, but good. We can do this. Together.”
William clasped Iver’s hand. They could’ve gone to their bedchamber, but William led Iver to a private, roofed balcony overlooking Sapphire Lake and the mountains.
An arched colonnade connected the high ceiling with the classical balustrade.
Servants had furnished the balcony with a pair of divans and side tables, and festively decorated with midwinter trees.
Beyond, snowflakes fell out of the overcast sky, tumbling past the balcony.
It was bewildering—no matter how often it snowed in the Winter Court, the amount of snow on the ground always stayed the same.
On Iver’s order, an attendant brought them drinks and a plate of treats from the kitchen. Then they were alone, and Iver poured them faerie wine into crystal goblets.
“Now you’re fine with me drinking faerie wine?” William asked, amused.
“We’ve slept together plenty of times and, given what we’re about to do, it cannot harm.”
William eyed the midwife’s small, glazed jars sitting on a side table. Returning his attention to Iver, he said, “So you don’t mind me being no better than a bitch in heat?” That was what Iver had said to him when he’d wanted to drink faerie wine at their wedding. At the time, it’d vexed William.
Iver pressed a goblet into his hand. “It’s exactly what I want you to be.” His eyes glinted dangerously.
William brought the glass to his lips. The sweet scent of apples and foreign spices filled his nostrils, and he took a sip. A fruity flavor warmed by cinnamon and clove washed over his tongue.
William reclined on one of the divans, curling his fingers in a beckoning gesture at Iver, who followed.
He dropped his fur cloak on a small table and joined William on the daybed, his long, deft fingers working open the silver clasps of his jacket.
Inch by inch, he revealed the pristine, white linen shirt underneath.
Then the jacket was gone, and Iver picked up his goblet and draped himself across William.
He clinked his glass to William’s, looking him in the eye. “I can’t wait to have you.”
They drank from the faerie wine, William watching Iver over the rim of his glass.
He was lucky to have scored such a fine specimen of a husband.
When he swallowed the next mouthful, warmth ignited in his stomach.
It spread through his abdomen and groin.
His legs parted, making room for Iver to settle between them.
Inside the confines of his breeches, his cock rose.
Iver’s eyes narrowed; his lips curved. “It’s working, isn’t it?” He squeezed William’s thigh.
A small moan rose in William’s throat.
“Oh yes,” Iver said with a little laugh in his voice, “it’s working.” He exchanged his goblet for one of the sweet treats and held it to William’s lips. “Try this.”
“Another aphrodisiac?”
“No,” Iver chuckled. “Just something I baked this morning while you were sleeping. Although, it is made with love, so you never know.”
The honey-sweet scent made William salivate. The thing was purple, though. “What’s that?”
“Frosted blueberry roll topped with winterberries.”
William frowned. “Aren’t winterberries poisonous?”
“Not the ones that grow in the faerie realm.”
William shook his head. “Your kind is unbelievable.” He took a bite, and sweetness rushed onto his taste buds. William chewed and swallowed, then licked his lips. “It’s good.”
He ate the rest out of Iver’s hand, licking and sucking the frosting off his fingers, which he gave more attention than strictly necessary. The faerie wine was fire in William’s loins.
“Let me have a taste,” Iver said, not quite able to hide his smile. He leaned in to claim William’s mouth.
William hummed in bliss when Iver’s velvety lips moved against his.
Iver’s tongue stroked him, and he went dizzy, sinking a hand into Iver’s lush mane.
Its softness, combined with Iver’s fresh, masculine scent, was killing him.
A little splash sounded—William had spilled faerie wine onto the marble tiles.
Iver pulled away too soon. “Tastes good. Sweet.”
William couldn’t tell if he was referring to the blueberry roll or something else. He trailed his fingers over the laces holding Iver’s shirt closed, then gave them a firm tug, undoing them. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Am I? I’m not wearing half as much as you are.” Iver unclasped William’s cloak.
William finished his faerie wine in greedy gulps, Iver watching with a raised eyebrow. William put the empty glass down, let himself fall against the headrest and regarded Iver from underneath his lowered lids. “Undress me.”
Iver’s eyebrows hiked higher.
“Please, Your Majesty,” William mocked him gently, “help me out of my clothes. I’m getting rather warm.”