Chapter IX Celibacy
IX Celibacy
“You’ll ride with Raduna today,” Magnar says when I sit down next to him in the dining hall of the castle.
My hair is braided thanks to Khay’s crafty fingers. He did turn out to be shockingly good at handling it, but then, he’s had a lifetime of learning on his own long mane. In the end, my hair was the only thing he helped with. I’m wearing his underwear.
“Good morning to you, too,” I mutter, taking in the room.
It’s simple, built of gray stones and sparsely furnished. Its only beautiful feature are the windows, their tops ending in graceful arches decorated with colored glass. It’s light enough to see the silhouettes of spruces swaying outside.
Three long tables are laden with simple foods like bread, cheese, cold cuts, and bowls of porridge. Most of our riding party sits at two, while one table seems to be reserved for Magnar, me, and his knights. The red-haired Raduna raises his arm when I look at him and goes right back to eating.
I take him in, unease swirling in my belly.
Raduna is almost as tall as Khay, and he is much larger.
Magnar and the other knights are lean, their muscles visible but not bulging.
Raduna is built like an ox, with a thick neck and enormous arms that look like they could wield a siege ram all on their own.
His face is soft, though. Rounded cheeks, round chin, and a noble nose above full lips make him seem kind. Like a gentle giant. The effect is slightly marred by a patchwork of scars on the lower half of his right cheek. It’s red and uneven.
His hair is gathered into a multitude of braids that cascade down his back. It’s not red in the human sense, but rather—burgundy like the color of late autumn wine. He’s wearing a black leather vest that leaves his muscular arms bare, and he eats fast, heaping more meat onto his plate as he goes.
“Like what you see?” Magnar asks, a hostile note in his voice. “Good. A queen should enjoy her knights.”
He stabs a piece of meat with his fork so viciously, I flinch. But I don’t care about his moods enough to ask what’s wrong, so I focus on serving myself. I pour tea into a large clay mug and ladle some porridge onto my plate.
It’s delicious, thick with nuts and dried fruit, and I eat with appetite, surprisingly enjoying myself. Hardly anyone speaks. The Agnidari are too busy eating, for which I’m grateful. I prefer quiet mornings.
Outside, the sky brightens steadily with the coming dawn.
When Magnar pushes his plate away and leans back with a pleased sigh, I decide to risk a question.
“Why won’t I ride with you?”
His silver eyes grow hooded as he gives me a long, penetrating look. Thankfully, his former bad mood seems to be gone. Maybe he was just hungry. I kind of like the way he looks at me now, curious and attentive.
His hair is loose and looks so soft, I have a brief urge to touch it. I’ve never seen a man with hair so white before him, nor one with long hair—before the Agnidari. It’s shockingly… not repulsive.
“Because you drive me up the wall, darling,” he says in a voice so tender, it belies his taunting words. “I am quite sore from having to take matters into my own hand last night, and I barely slept. Another day like yesterday will kill me.”
I frown, not understanding half of what he says. Magnar huffs with amusement and strokes my cheek with his knuckle, leaning in until our faces are almost level. I gasp and stop breathing. There are tiny ice blue flecks in his silver irises, and his lashes are dark and curled.
“I see you’re confused. I meant, sweetheart, that riding with you made me so horny, I had to stroke my cock repeatedly to get some relief, and it barely helped. My skin is raw, and it hurts. Doing it with my hand isn’t half as pleasant as coming inside a warm, wet pussy.”
I breathe again, and it’s audible and fast. My face burns. Magnar’s eyes lower, his lashes fanning over his cheeks, and he strokes my lower lip with his thumb, then presses down. My lower teeth are bared, my mouth open, and I’m shaking.
“And I did it again,” he says, stroking my lip with the pad of his thumb, his eyes mesmerized. “Please, tell me you’re done hating me for killing your father. Say I can have you tonight, my little prize.”
I flinch back so hard, my chair almost topples, only Magnar’s quick reflexes saving me from the fall. He sighs regretfully, and I turn away, horrible, ugly guilt burgeoning inside me.
How could I forget?
I haven’t thought about my father for longer than a few minutes yesterday. I was too busy talking with the man who murdered him and trying to ignore the exciting, improper ways he made me feel as he pressed me to his body in the saddle.
Then I was distracted by Khay, letting one of my late father’s mortal enemies touch my naked body and stay in the room while I changed this morning.
Not once did I pray for my father’s soul. I still haven’t shed a tear for him.
As I drown in guilt, a thought emerges out of nowhere like a predatory fish jumping out of the deep waters of my mind.
I am glad he’s gone.
I gasp and clutch my chest, my eyes wide open from shock. How could I think that? He was my father, for better or worse, and after my mother died, he was my only family. Yes, he had his faults, but doesn’t everyone?
And yet, the treacherous thought responds, you never felt as safe with him as you did with an Agnidari only yesterday. And yet, you are relieved he’s gone. And yet, you are grateful.
“I’m sorry,” Magnar says, laying a heavy palm on my shoulder. “I’ll take it as a no and won’t ask again.”
I shake my head, but my throat is too tight to squeeze out an explanation, my thoughts too chaotic to form a coherent response.
Gods, I am such a bad daughter!
You are not a daughter anymore. You are free.
Chairs and benches scrape around me as the Agnidari rise. I tremble, my nails digging into my palms until they hurt, and I choke on self-loathing and guilt. Magnar walks by, his scent briefly wrapping around me in a comforting cloud, leather, cloves, and the same soap I washed with yesterday.
Raduna stands next to me, his hands loose at his sides. His voice is gentle but firm when he speaks.
“We have to go, my lady. Unless you’re in pain? There’s a medic in the castle.”
I shake my head and stand up, burying my face in my hands as I try to suppress all that guilt, sorrow, and treacherous relief.
When Raduna offers me his arm, I manage a small, uncertain smile and reach up to lay my palm in the crook of his elbow.
We start walking, but after a few steps it becomes clear our height difference makes it very uncomfortable.
Raduna smiles and takes my hand, leading me outside.
The horses are already saddled, snorting as the sun rises above the horizon, red and gold against the pink sky. Birds sing, and the air is crisp, though I know it will get hot soon enough.
“It hasn’t rained in over a week,” Raduna says, shielding his eyes against the sun. “Perfect weather for reaping wheat, though I worry about other crops. May I help you up?”
His horse is light gray, its nostrils black and wet as they widen in a snort. I take a shaky breath and nod, still not used to how enormous the Agnidari mounts are.
Raduna’s hands tighten around my waist, and he lifts me with complete, breathtaking control.
When Magnar did it yesterday, it was fast and dizzying.
His knight makes a lot of effort to help me stay calm as he settles me in the enormous saddle, and when I’m sitting, he looks up, fingering the torn edge of my green dress.
“Are you comfortable?”
I nod and thank him with a smile. I was right about him—Raduna is kind, and he puts me at ease. That is, until he gets on the horse.
His large, powerful body presses to me from behind, and he makes a soft, curious noise, shifting until he’s comfortable.
I am surrounded by him, his powerful arms circling me from the sides as he holds the reins, his stomach undulating with deep breaths against my back.
My hat, already mangled by Magnar yesterday, is further squished against the bulging muscles of Raduna’s torso.
“I’ll do my best to be good,” he says in a low voice as a horn trumpets ahead, calling riders into formation. “You have my utmost respect, my queen.”
I sigh and nod, not sure if he sees it. Like yesterday, my body is overwhelmed with sensation, and I have difficulty focusing on anything other than the masculine scents of leather and musk, Raduna’s deep, even breaths, and his thighs pressing to my body, hot and hard.
When I try to daydream about riding with a blond, green-eyed human knight like yesterday, he shows up with long, white hair, his eyes long-lashed and crinkling with humor. I give up and watch the landscape, half-reaped fields rolling past, people hard at work under the rising sun.
“How come the war didn’t disturb them?” I ask, wondering about the progress the farmers have made on the fields. I know Magnar marched through Farneer for weeks before he reached the capital, engaging in battles and skirmishes with my father’s soldiers along the way.
And yet, the lives of farmers in this area seem to have not changed at all.
“Magnar never destroys the fields and villages if he can help it,” Raduna explains.
“He wants every kingdom he conquers to thrive. Here, he sent ahead heralds that preceded the troops, and they stopped in every village that was in our way. The farmers were told that if they didn’t attack us, we would pass peacefully.
They chose peace, and we kept our word.”
“Didn’t you rape their women?” I ask bitterly.
“No. There were no Agnidari women enslaved in those villages. Only in the capital.”
We ride in silence for a while, the heat growing unbearable. Raduna makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat.
“And if you were asking if I personally took human women, the answer is no. Knights are sworn to celibacy to avoid distractions. Our loyalty to the king and queen is absolute.”
That takes me aback. I wish I could see his expression, because I half-suspect he’s joking, even though his voice sounds serious.
“Celibacy?” I repeat. “So you… You don’t have wives? Or… anything?”
I blush at my lame wording. Theoretically, I know people have congress without being married sometimes. Practically, it was never an option for me. A princess must be a virgin in every sense of the word until she takes a husband.
Raduna isn’t put off by my bumbling question. “Knights do not marry. The king and queen are our only family. And—each other. This way, our loyalties are never conflicted. All our lives are devoted to the king and queen.”
“But it must be so lonely!” I explode, outraged by this barbaric Agnidari custom.
He laughs, his chest vibrating at the back of my head.
“It really isn’t. Or, at least—it’s not now that we have a queen. I’ll admit, we lost hope a few times in the past. Conquest after conquest, we won but never truly enjoyed it, since all the princesses were… Ah, that’s probably an upsetting matter.”
“Slain by their relatives?” I ask, not too upset since I already heard all about it from Khay. He wasn’t worried about distressing me.
I like Raduna more and more.
“Yes,” he says with a small chuckle. “I see you’re well informed.
Well, Magnar’s goal, which we supported all the way, was to sit at the Table of Kings, and it was only possible by marrying a princess from one of the Eleven.
Truth be told, and I apologize for saying that, but we expected you to be dead like the other princesses.
So it was a miracle and a gift to find you alive.
A prize, indeed, so beautiful and radiant. You gave me hope.”
I almost melt from the kind words, even though I know they can’t be sincere.
By gods, Raduna is really the nicest of them all.
Why couldn’t he be my husband? Magnar never once told me a kind word.
All he does is say really disturbing things that make my belly tighten with an unpleasant sort of heat, my skin tingling like it’s a size too small. I never feel safe with him.
We chat about lighter topics, like the weather and crops. I learn Raduna has a greenhouse at the keep. He possesses a vast knowledge of plants and a passion for making them grow, and he gets excited talking about plant-related things.
“Magnar’s father, king Hrognar, did a lot for Roharra,” he says as we ride through a forest, the shade a pleasant change after the burning heat of the plains.
“He had scores of engineers and farmers come up with an irrigation system that allowed us to plant crops on large areas of the desert. Thanks to his peaceful labors, my generation grew up with an abundance of fresh food, making us strong and resilient. Perfect material for Magnar to build his army.”
The path is narrow here, trees thick and tall. Magnar rides ahead, his back straight, white hair billowing behind him in a not unattractive manner. He looks regal, I admit grudgingly.
It’s the hair. Truly, it’s his one good feature.
Arvi and Khay ride behind us. They joke from time to time, though I don’t catch their words. All I hear are snickers and sometimes loud barks of laughter.
Khay is laughing right now, the sound eerie in the gloomy silence of the forest. Something hisses in the air.
Magnar presses his face to the neck of his horse. He moves so fast, I barely catch it. One moment, he’s riding tall, and the next, he’s flat against his mount.
There’s a thunk. I look right to see what caused it, baffled yet serene. It must be a woodpecker.
Khay’s laughter cuts off, and there is a moment of sharp, tense silence.
I see what made the sound, and my stomach drops, liquid and weightless. An arrow sticks out of the tree trunk, still quivering. Someone just shot at Magnar.