Chapter 34 Silva
Silva
The heavy cardstock arrived with all the pomp of the wedding invitations she had never sent out.
One-year anniversary . . . dissolution of marriage contract . . . formally request your presence at a ceremonial Unbinding, to be conducted in accordance with tradition.
Below that, in smaller type — Attire: formal.
Like a gala, Silva thought. Like a club gala, the sort this club wouldn’t have been able to successfully put on if it had marched unbidden through their doors like a parade.
All to make her a spectacle. She held the card at arm’s length in her kitchen, the late afternoon sun slanting through the window and catching the gold border, making it flash.
They even sprung for foiling. How embarrassingly tacky.
Across the room, Tate was pretending not to watch her, carefully crimping the edge of his pie, but Silva could feel the weight of his eyes every time she lowered her head to read it again.
“Will they be setting fire to you, Silva? Or merely frog marching you out in shame when it’s done?” His voice was light and airy, as if they were discussing their weekend plans.
Her laughter caught in her throat, and she dropped the card in the sink.
She had gotten lucky. Silva still couldn’t deny that.
Tannar was thoroughly unobjectionable. He had the emotional intelligence of a turnip and had fully uninvested in her the instant she was anything other than sweet, empty-headed Silva of the Daytime, but she would be lying to herself and the world if she pretended that she had entered into the relationship under honest pretenses.
It could’ve been worse. He could have been cruel. He could have hit her. He could’ve had her hospitalized once she began to let her mask slip, for as different as she was, compared to the bubbly puppet he had thought he’d wed.
“You know, he didn’t even fight me when I left. I think that’s the most insulting part. He was absolutely relieved that I was going. And they’re still doing this.”
She had had a panicked moment a week or so earlier, wondering if they expected her to bring Aelin.
After all, rumors were merely rumors. Having an Elvish grandchild to flaunt was social proof to their friends at the club.
Silva had no doubt they would’ve been thrilled to parade Aelin around, now that she was a darling little doll, no longer a screaming infant.
It would have been the ultimate humiliation for his mother to bring them both.
Especially now, especially now that Aelin looked so much like Tate.
They would see it immediately, as everyone did, and they would know.
And she would go from being the spoiled snob who had stayed home to spend Tannar’s money to the trollop who’d clearly had an affair, but the latter came with the cruel benefit of putting Tannar in the cuck chair, which his friends would remember.
But her daughter wasn’t a prop, and Silva would not use her that way.
Aelin would spend the time with her grandparents and her great-grandmother, and Silva would get this over with, putting this messy chapter of her life to bed for good.
Freeing her up for the next chapter, whatever that might be.
“I still can’t believe you bought a house. You bought a house without even telling me!”
Tate dropped his head back, giving her a put-upon sigh.
“How many times are you going to make me apologize, dove? It was a time-sensitive situation. We’d still be having a circular conversation about it two weeks later; don’t even try to deny it.
Case in point — you’ve not moved on from this in several days. ”
“Oh, you are the worst.” She laughed when he spun, catching her as she passed, tapping flour onto her nose. “You still think I should buy this place?”
Tate shrugged lightly, what he did when he had an opinion but didn’t want to influence hers.
“That’s entirely up to you. You were already prepared to do it.
Rent it to students and keep it affordable so you always have someone there.
No need to overcharge them, the rest of the community does that well enough, it seems.”
“You make that sound very easy.”
“It’s a condominium, Silva. It doesn’t get easier. Maintenance is already fixed.” He gave her a toothy grin, sharp and glinting. “Baby’s first real estate investment.”
“I do like the sound of that,” she confirmed, leaning into him and closing her eyes.
A house in Oldetowne. She didn’t tell him how close that was to her daydreams. She didn’t have the same vision he possessed, and when she’d first laid eyes on the teardown disaster he’d purchased, Silva had turned to him in horror, but he was confident. He was confident, and she trusted him.
The very notion made her dizzy.
Silva wasn’t sure if she’d ever trusted him before.
She’d loved him. He’d made her jealous and irrational, and losing him had broken her heart.
She’d had faith in him, but this was different.
She trusted him with everything in her. Trusted him to take care of her and their daughter.
Trusted him not to lie. Trusted him to be there in the morning. It was a revelation.
Are you family? Obviously, we are.
“Maybe we shouldn’t even go,” she blurted, face heating. She had been thinking this over for several days as well, reading and rereading that miserable invitation, like they were throwing the fête of the season. “I mean, I don’t owe him anything . . .”
Tate tipped her chin up, eyes narrowed, examining her face closely for a long, silent moment. Her eyes fluttered shut as he caressed her cheek.
“Do you want me to eat him, Silva?”
Silva stared up at his completely serious face. Yes. She did. She’d love that, actually. She doubled over in laughter, pitching forward into him.
“I love you so much,” she wheezed. “Because I know you’re serious.”
“Oh, I’m as serious as a bleedin’ heart attack, dove. Say the word.”
She laughed until tears poured from her eyes, dragging him down by the shirt front until he met her lips. “That was exactly what I needed. I’m going to go pack our clothes.”
***
He was incensed to learn there was no hotel involved in the ceremony upon their arrival.
“Honestly, Silva. Where do you keep finding these worthless langers without the basic civility to have something like this in a neutral location? I’ll have you know the last time I was in an Elvish enclave, I almost set fire to the moon chapel. I can’t promise I won’t finish the job tomorrow.”
“You won’t have the opportunity,” she reminded him.
The hotel they were staying in wasn’t even that nice, as beige and boring and unmemorable as the town and the residents populating it, a reminder of how subpar everything in this beige wasteland really was.
“They’re Summerland elves. It’s a sun temple. ”
She giggled against his bare chest at the noise he made, his arm flailing in aggravation, so glad that he’d come. He was going to find fault in every single thing, and she was going to love him for it.
The dress she’d chosen was simple. She could’ve worn black, as if this were a death, but that would’ve implied she was unhappy about it.
Silme elves wore white to funerals, but the significance of that would’ve been lost on his family.
She could have worn something sedate, something in keeping with the somber nature of the ceremony, but Silva didn’t feel inclined to do any of the above.
An emerald green sheath dress, off the shoulder with a corset back, one that gave a hint of a bit more cleavage than was likely inappropriate for the occasion, sleek and sophisticated, which she knew none of them were.
You really are a snob. Her only request to him, once he’d joined her in packing, was that he pick a suit that made his ass look phenomenal.
He had succeeded, she thought that morning, the day of reckoning at last, entering the sun temple, as he gripped her hand.
His ass and other attributes.
“You need to get up, dove,” he purred into her ear that morning. “We have work to do.”
Work had entailed her sitting astride his face for much of the morning.
She had gripped the edge of the upholstered headboard, riding his mouth like a cowgirl, understanding why he had wished for a room beside Tannar’s as she moaned.
His tongue had flicked against her swollen clit like the fluttering wing of a moth, and his face had been slick and shining when she toppled off him at last, sated.
When he didn’t immediately move to change their positions, Silva took advantage of the opportunity to swing her leg back over him, facing his feet, licking a slow stripe up the head of his cock.
Slow and seeking, licking over every inch of his glans, gently scraping her teeth over the sensitive skin, feeling him jerk beneath her.
She had been good at this, once, she reminded herself, slowly lowering her mouth on his length.
That’s what she’d told herself the very first night they’d met, when she’d dropped to her knees before him and sucked him in the back room at the Plundered Pixie.
Keep that up and I’ll fill your mouth, dove. She was up for the challenge.
She loved dragging her tongue over the split in his tip, where green gave way to dark pink, pearling up on her tongue as she tightened her lips.
She pinched the seam of his sac, dragging down the soft skin as his balls pulled up, meeting her invasion.
Her head began to bob. Silva hummed as she sucked him, hoping he was able to feel the vibration in his spine, gratified when his hips began to rise on their own accord, meeting her greedy mouth.
Tate dragged a hand down her back, gently scraping over her spine, holding her hips, gripping the curve of her ass, making her whimper when he stroked his long fingers against her, sinking himself in to the knuckle.
He’d done this that first night as well.