Chapter Seven
Virion
Virion stared at his dirty table as Nemiah’s footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the quiet squeak of the cart’s wheels behind the softer footsteps of a servant. His spiced scent of the forges and oil lingered in his wake and the memory of him bent over Virion’s back rutting into him in such an obscene way made him shiver. Still, he felt oddly protected.
Because I didn’t want to. Nemiah’s words came back to haunt him as the nymphs swept in, Ivy offering him a polite yet mournful smile. Sadness lived in those misty eyes, but this time it was for him.
“Are you well, Virion?” Clover flitted by with a new dressing gown, made in a style for men, what he’d become accustomed to as a young boy, not the fitted thing with lace trim that tickled his feet at night to the point that his chambermaid had to be warned to knock because he preferred sleeping in the nude. For the sake of decency, he decided he’d wear it. He didn’t think he could keep the nymphs out of his room anyway. Not that he minded.
He reached for the gown and found Artemis pulling it out of reach. “Come, Virion. Let us go bathe in the hot springs. Master Nemiah said you should relax for now and nothing feels better.”
Vir couldn’t complain as Clover slipped her hand into his and guided him from his room and down many halls to a set of stairs that wound almost gracefully down in a soft spiral. The soft scent of sulfur permeated the air on the edge of a cloud of moisture that condensed on walls that bore no moss or mold from the intrusion, bearing the marks of regular cleaning. Even the air bore no mold or mustiness.
Thalm-lit torches cast their soft yellow glow over flinty walls, damp reflecting off the surfaces where the mist let light cut through. The casual drip of water and trickle of a stream somewhere nearby made Virion sigh.
“Come this way,” Clover said as they rounded another corner and opened latched doors. The baths back home had never been so guarded. Privacy was almost assured as Virion stepped beyond them and stared at the little underground oasis. A languid pool rippled with water so mineral-laden that it held a milky hue to it. Hot steam curled in the air and when Virion took a long, appreciative breath, Artemis swept by with Ivy to draw him to the side where a small curtained area had been constructed, boxed in by rich wood and thick iron nails with patterned heads.
“Wash yourself before you enter the pools. We keep this area clean.” Clover ushered Vir in and handed him a scrub cloth, woven of some twisted plant fiber that scratched his skin, but worked a rich lather from the pale-lavender bar of soap perched on a slatted small shelf. The surface of it held the pocked marks of embedded flowers and threw a scent rich in holy cedar.
Vir made quick work of washing himself, the wipe down he received after his event with Nemiah not nearly enough to cleanse him from that memory. Though he’d never want it gone. No man had ever made him release without touch before, without penetration, even. He found his cock twitching, and he bade it away as the warm, flowing water disappeared beneath his feet through a guided drain. Every swipe of the rough cloth over his sensitive skin made the memory of what had happened seem a little further away.
Maybe if he scrubbed enough, he’d forget the quiet rustle and clearing throats of the people in observance, the glimpse of shuffling shoes he’d shaken from his head. His downcast gaze and refusal to look hadn’t been perfect, but it helped.
Upon finishing his shower, Artemis pulled him out, draping a bath sheet over his shoulders to daub and dry his hair. Stepping away from the water and toward the pool was a pleasant experience, the air not as biting cold as he’d anticipated.
The rough stone surrounding the pool wound a path in the pattern of the bricked floor, textured so as not to slip. The first kiss of water on his toes nearly sucked him in with the promise of warmth. His ass, sore from the long carriage ride less so than Nemiah’s earlier events, soothed almost instantly. The fragrant heat did so much as he sank down, closing his eyes as exhaustion finally caught up with him.
Nymphs, the gentle forest spirits, danced about in the air, toes barely touching the water as they flitted around, taking turns combing his hair. Clover, her pink skin flushed from the heat, swam through the water, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders. “Nemiah was kind to you, yes?”
“He was.” Virion stared at the milky water surrounding him. “Please be honest with me. Am I safe?”
A snort interrupted the silence. Artemis’s lavender skin reflected in a soft glow off the water’s surface. “Let Nemiah try. He’ll never sleep a night’s rest if he harms a hair on your head.”
“Thank you.” Virion didn’t know what more to say as they tended his hair and soaked for themselves in their own sort of way. Nymphs were tangible spirit, so they held little stock with the natural law, hypnotizing Virion with their gentle floating touches until he caught himself near dozing off in the water.
Gentle hands coaxed him to stand, and the towel returned. Fresh slippers ensconced his feet before they gave him more male undergarments, the drawstring linen shorts a comforting reminder that his new life allowed him that piece of himself.
He barely recalled his nightclothes being tugged on or their coaxing pushes to get him up the steps once more. It’d been a long month, but what the pipeweed started, the warm bath finished as he fell into the softest and most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in.
***
Vir had grown accustomed to midmorning sun waking him, but the dim nature of Drashil in the shadow of the mountains didn’t wake him with a stripe of bright warmth. Nor did Pilki’s accidental milling about.
“Good afternoon, Virion!” Clover’s soft voice rang through the room, and Vir stretched amid the tousled sheets and heavy, woven blankets.
“Afternoon already?” Virion blinked up at an unfamiliar ceiling and rose amid the tugging of blankets and sheets, ushering him to the garderobe. Its mechanism was much different from what he was accustomed to in his father’s palace, but it functioned similarly enough. He could only be thankful he wasn’t given a chamber pot.
“Closer to evening, I’d say. You’ve only a few hours until dinner, and Nemiah was insistent you dine with him.” The voice that answered was familiar, but not that of the nymphs. His new mother-in-law?
“I’m not quite decent yet, My La—Kiara.” Virion stumbled over the title and earned a hum of appreciation.
“Are you naked, or is my son in there with you?” Her sly tones made Virion’s cheeks burn.
“I’m still in my nightclothes!”
“Oh pish. Get out here. You’ve nothing I’ve not seen before.” Kiara huffed and Virion stepped out, eying her warily.
“I might. I’m omega, after all.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Trust me. I had a wild youth and omegas were allowed to fraternize with ladies.”
Vir choked as he stepped fully out and strode to the vanity where a basin and ewer sat with fresh water for him to wash his hands. “I stand corrected, then. But there are some things I wish to keep to myself, especially around my betrothed’s mother.”
“Would you rather I take to needling you on giving me grandchildren to spoil?” She lifted an imperiously sculpted brow. Her hair had a metallic cast to it, a granite shade like blacksteel fresh quenched from the forge, and it suited her pallor well. She was a beautiful woman, and Virion saw why Nemiah’s father had kept her.
Artemis pushed Vir across the room, nudging him behind a dressing screen as Clover tugged his night robes away, and Ivy methodically tugged and plucked layers of garments onto him, almost as fine as what he’d worn the day before for his wedding, and once more, decidedly male in designation. He couldn’t help the grin that he caught in a brief glimpse in a dressing mirror before turning away from it at the tug of a comb through his hair. Virion found he appreciated the shades of gray they’d picked for him.
Kiara met his gaze as he stepped free of the nymphs, giving Ivy and Clover a gentle pat on their forearms in thanks. He made a note to see if the kitchens could send some honey to his room later as a treat for them, as the nymphs in his homeland were always delighted by offerings of it in their forests when their lands needed to be passed through. “I suppose that is the task I was given to Nemiah for.”
“Which is a conundrum to me. I cannot fathom why someone as lovely as you hadn’t been given to a suitor already. But I am glad—beautiful dusk grandchildren. So, what is wrong with you? I know there was doubt about your virtue? An illegitimate child? A failed betrothal?”
Virion narrowly avoided sneering in defense and calmed himself with a slow breath. “I turned down every suitor my father brought. No failed betrothal or any scandals. I’ve dallied with betas before, but nothing more. I was simply obstinate, considering the ceremony I had to be put through to wed someone.” Virion fought the fire in his cheeks. “I never found someone worth the indecency.”
“And Nemiah was?” Her eyebrow remained stiffly poised and would outlast Virion’s composure, certainly.
“I did not have a choice with Nemiah. But he did not shame me.”
Not wanting to go into more detail, Vir left it at that, but Kiara wasn’t going to. “He shamed you needlessly because your family demanded. I’m actually a little upset with him for going through with it.”
“I…” Vir hesitated when Artemis spoke up for him.
“He didn’t. Clever angles and a well-placed prick of the nail gave the audience all they needed. Our precious Virion is still alpha untouched.” She kissed the top of Vir’s head as she floated by, stifling a giggle.
That shameful heat burned Vir’s cheeks. “I—I.”
“Oh.” Kiara pursed her lips, her gaze wary. “I meant to say something yesterday. Ask, really.”
“I’ll submit for him the moment he wishes. I promise. I didn’t mean t—” Virion’s words tumbled forth and Kiara rolled her eyes, shushing him as she took his arm in hers.
“Let’s go for a walk. I wish to talk about your union. I’ve no issue with when you two decide to consummate. It’s far more sacred for us, and the moon smiles on those who practice patience.”
Virion stumbled the first few steps as he nervously cowered under her gaze and followed.
“What sort of union do they do in Liaberos?” She folded her free hand behind her back while keeping a tight rein on Vir.
“Well. They exchange vows and if they’re regency, they are subject to the consummation.” Virion stumbled after her. “Certainly no blood exchange or… I’m not certain what that spell was.”
Kiara pivoted on one foot, releasing Vir’s arm as her expression went uneasy. “You do not know what that was?”
“No. I’ve never felt my magic sway like that before.”
“And you never will again. You tethered every thalm of your soul to Nemiah, and he to you.” Kiara’s expression, put upon and full of pity, didn’t change.
“If we were soulmates, that would be the case, but—”
“You are. The moon takes our oaths seriously, so he tethered himself to you. But this is beyond the tether. I felt your magics snap. You two are special.” She grabbed for Virion’s hands and held them cupped in hers. “Please be kind to Nemiah. He was not expecting this at all.”
“I think it’s because I am high in thalms. My magic has been called intense at times.” Virion pursed his lips in hope of conveying his resignation, but that sadness remained.
“And that only makes it so much more intense. Trust me.” She stared and, not relenting, earned a sigh of exasperation. “I have a feeling you two were meant for one another. Fine. Be stubborn. Just don’t hurt yourself, okay? He is amicable when things need be done.”
Virion offered what he hoped was an assuring smile, and the moment slipped away, their walk resuming as they made their way to the palace gardens.
The sun’s light shadowed that side of the mountain for most of the day and bathed it in moonlight at night. The low light made the plant life dense with chick canopies, leaves fighting for sun with as much rich, dark green as possible.
Even plants that Virion recognized held veins of black running through them, tainted even then by the soil so rich and dark with a reddish cast from oxides.
“It’s not the fanciful brightness you’re accustomed to, but we do try to hold beauty.” She brushed her fingers over a creeping rose, the dusty-purple petals curling inward defensively as she did so, protecting the sweet nectar within, defending itself from anything other than the sugarmoths that would pollinate them. The timid clench would protect them from the gnawing screechwasps that sang their shrill songs at the death of fall as they bred and laid their eggs in dormant vegetation.
“Honestly, the brightness didn’t do much for me. I had to squint at all of it.” Virion offered her a slight chuckle and leaned forward to another blossom, barely opened at this time of year. The sweet pollen within drew his senses as he kept far enough away to not cause the petals to shy. “I love them. The soil makes them this way? They’re so drab in our home gardens.”
“They do react with the soil, much like our vegetation. It’ll wreak havoc on your stomach, of course. The kitchen is minding what they cook for now, as the minerals here are much richer, but you’ll have some adjusting to do. If your stomach doesn’t reject it at some point, your cycles surely will.” Kiara threw the statement over her shoulder impassively.
“Cycles?”
“Your cycles . Our omegas tend to go by the moon and have their begging nights, or so we called them.”
Virion’s cheeks burned. “It’s the same for us. But we just call them our fertile times.”
“I cannot say I’m in a total rush to be a grandmother, which I cannot say the same for your father.” She sighed. “Insurance for the alliance and all that.”
“Wish it could happen on someone else’s back.” Virion’s slip was met with a curt glare. “Not that Nemiah isn’t a good choice. It’s the being bred like horses I loathe.”
“I see. Well, no finer a mane have I seen among mares hovering around Nemiah’s stable. So, worry not.” Kiara gently tugged a lock of Virion’s hair and led him through the rest of the garden.
There was no sunderleaf this time, merely the company they could share. Certainly it was better with her than it was waiting alone and nervous in his bedroom until time to dine with his husband.