Chapter 14 - Bed
XIV Bed
He closes his eyes and leans his head back, lowering me into his lap. My bum settles on top of poking hardness, and his hips buck into me. He grunts, tightening his hold in my loose hair until I feel a delightful pulling along the back of my head.
“Fuck,” Magnar breathes, his eyes still closed. “Eight more days. Nine, if we delay any more. I thought going to war was hard, but this is even harder.”
I catch myself wanting to nod in agreement, because at this moment, waiting for more kisses and more caresses feels like torture.
But then I remember what Avinia said, and I focus on the shape I feel under my bum. Oh, it’s large. I have no clue how a thing like that is supposed to fit inside without hurting me, and so I tell my body to calm down.
I should try to run. But then… where would I even run to?
He gave me time to grieve my father, I remind myself. This is Magnar’s sole reason to wait—he wants to do the right thing. And what do I do with his gift? Squander it. I should finally cry, mourn, get it over with. I should stop remembering the wrong things.
Bad daughter.
“I have some difficulty deciding what to do now,” Magnar says, his eyes closed, head tilted back. “Maybe you can help me.”
I turn in his lap, alert and surprised. “Are you asking for my opinion? Whatever for?”
His mouth flattens, and for a moment, I’m scared I made him angry, but his expression softens once he cracks his eyes open, shards of silver watching my face.
“For knowing what you think, dear. That’s the purpose of asking one’s opinion, is it not?”
I smile despite myself, shaking my head. The Agnidari are bizarre. Back home, no one ever wanted to know what I thought, as my female views were expected to be insipid and dull.
“So what’s the difficulty?” I ask.
Magnar releases a heavy sigh. His hardness under my bum doesn’t release, and I wonder if he’s suffering. He said as much before.
“I wanted to ride with you today so we can talk. I ought to get to know my wife, and you should get to know me. Trouble is, I expect to be even harder than on the first day. I haven’t touched a woman in years, hoping it would spur me to fight better to win my queen.
Apparently, it was a grave mistake, but here we are. ”
I try to shuffle away, having the confirmation that he’s in pain, but when his organ jerks in response, I still. Magnar sighs, watching me with a pained sort of resignation.
“I can either give you to Raduna and put off our conversation, or take you with me and suffer. Or I could delay by a day, stay here, and speak with you at leisure. I have letters to write, anyway. Odious chore. I obviously hate the idea of delaying, since you promised to lay with me once we reach the keep. I want to get there as fast as possible.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks with a blush, yet I don’t look away from his face. His lips are soft, eyes hooded. Magnar’s hands on my waist are light, comfortable, and the kiss we shared still buzzes in my veins like little bursts of light.
I think I finally get his meaning, though, and it settles like a weight in my chest.
“So this is what you mean. You want me to lie with you sooner. I see,” I say with a sigh, feeling timidly excited at the prospect, yet also disappointed. I was right. He doesn’t truly want my opinion. He’s just trying to persuade me so he can get what he wants earlier than promised.
His eyes crease, brows drawing together.
“No, Caliane. I’ve resigned myself to the schedule we agreed on.
I want to know what you’d like, I suppose.
Stay here, walk and speak with me, and delay?
Or ride with me in discomfort, since I know it’s unpleasant to you, or maybe ride with Raduna?
He’s the strongest of us. You’ll be comfortable with him.
And I hate each option for different reasons, so I guess you can choose. Some days are meant to be difficult.”
I shake my head, even more confused. “You’re letting me choose?”
He nods with a faint shrug. “The Tyrant gets tired, too. Choose today’s hardship for me. What do you want?”
I straighten, staring at him doubtfully. The only decisions I was ever allowed to make were what to wear or whether to draw or embroider in my free time. I’m not even sure I can choose well, though Magnar made it clear each option is bad from his point of view. It sort of makes it easier.
I know what I want—anything but converse with Magnar.
I have nothing to say that might interest him, and my skin crawls at the thought that he might waste a day of travel talking with me, and be angry when my conversation turns out dull and exhausting.
Besides, there are so many things I can’t speak about, and would rather forget.
Also, I should grieve. Magnar makes it impossible, because how can I properly mourn my father when I so treacherously enjoy the company of his killer? Oh, I am disgusting.
“I’d like to ride with Raduna,” I say, clenching my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry.”
Magnar gives me a close-lipped smile and sighs. “No need to be sorry. I understand.”
He urges me off his lap and stands, too, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. When I turn to leave, he grabs my hand.
“A kiss, darling? One more to make this day bearable?”
Oh, I want to. He looks splendid in his leathers, his hair soft, face darkened with the remains of his blush. And yet, I can’t squander any more grieving time, so I shake my head. Magnar closes his eyes for a moment, then smiles ruefully.
“Well then. Let us go.”
As I ride with Raduna, morning sun rays falling through the cracks in heavy, silver clouds, I keep thinking about Magnar’s reaction and what was so strange about it. When we ride over a bridge, horse hooves clobbering over the wood, I finally have it.
Whenever my father wanted a kiss on his cheek or hand, he’d bully me until I agreed. He’d be cross if I denied him my lips, and reminded me of all the things he had done for me until guilt swallowed me, and I caved.
Magnar did none of that. I wonder if it means he didn’t actually want my kiss, but that doesn’t seem right.
Maybe he let me choose again—and honored my choice.
Bizarre, bizarre Agnidari.
We reach the next castle after dark because of the morning delay. The soldiers are tired, but no one grumbles, and I haven’t heard one word of complaint throughout the day. I still feel guilty for making us late.
My bath is a quick affair, with Khay waiting by the tub while I wash myself. At dinner, which is glum and quiet, Raduna sits by my side. With a sheepish blush, he rubs the hem of my lacy sleeve between two fingers, and I give him a tired smile.
“I was wondering, my queen, if you would be so kind as to do me a favor?”
“Of course,” I say without thinking. After a full day of listening to Raduna talking about how excited he is to care for his plants more regularly now that the war is over, I have almost forgotten about the heads.
“I heard from Khay you wore his underthings yesterday.” Raduna’s voice lowers to a conspiratorial murmur. “I wondered… would my queen do me the same honor?”
I blink at him, my hand reaching for my chalice of wine before I remember I should choose the weak beer instead. Raduna watches me with his warm, brown eyes, his face lit with hope. I take a hasty sip, the wine delicious, and set the chalice aside.
Well, I don’t really have a choice. I cannot favor Khay and refuse Raduna.
“Yes,” I agree, ducking my head in embarrassment. “I will wear them tomorrow.”
He beams at me, my gentle, deadly giant so joyful at the prospect of me wearing his clothes. It would be entirely endearing if not for all the impropriety, but I am too exhausted to care.
No one’s going to lock me up in a cellar, I tell myself. It’s all right.
After dinner, Khay brings me to my room and leaves me alone after helping me undress.
My bedroom is small. This castle is the shabbiest so far, kept for military purposes.
No Agnidari nobleman resides here, and it shows.
But the bed sheets are clean, and I look at them longingly as I brush my teeth in the flickering light of a single candle.
Outside, thunder rolls. The candle’s flame dances and brightens, stoked by a draft.
As lightning blazes through the dark sky in the distance, the door opens behind my back.
Khay comes in, stretching his arms with a yawn.
I gape, taking in his nudity. He’s wearing a pair of underwear—and nothing else.
The light of the candle sizzles across his chest and stomach muscles, leaving the dips and valleys between them in shadow.
He has nipples, I realize with a surge of heat.
Well, of course, he does. I’ve just never seen a man—like this.
“Khay?” I ask cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
He blinks at me with tired eyes, rubbing his sharp-tipped ear.
“Sleeping. What else?”
I look at the bed, then study the floor in search of more bedding, but of course, there is none.
“I sleep here,” I say slowly.
Khay nods and yawns again. “Yes. You done with everything? Come on, Magnar wants an early start tomorrow. ‘No more delays, Khay!’ Driven bastard.”
He climbs into bed and gets busy arranging pillows, beating them into the shapes he wants until a few tiny white feathers leap into the air. I stare, forgetting the toothbrush in my hand.
Khay lies back with a pleased sigh and glances at me. He frowns. “Oh, right. Is this a problem now? You didn’t mind the last three nights.”
I rear back, confused. “The last… three nights? What does it mean?”
Khay seems as baffled as I until his eyes widen in understanding, and he slaps his forehead.
“Khradgah. You must have been so out of it, you didn’t even notice, and there I was, congratulating myself on the excellent progress we’ve made.
So, yes. I sleep with you. Can you just come to bed, please?
I won’t even touch you if you don’t want that. This bed is big enough.”