Chapter 12
Zul met Ursula in the studio again and joined her, Bran, and Gil at meals the next day, but the triad did not advance to the Rite of First Taste.
Ursula agreed to proceed, but Zul noticed she was not altogether comfortable with doing so.
Regardless of her words, she could not hide the trepidation and guilt she felt: the mental connection revealed those thoughts and feelings.
“You take a great risk,” Gil warned him as he and Bran made ready to leave for their deployment the morning of their departure.
“We are a bonded triad now,” Zul replied, keeping his voice quiet. “The Council Supreme knows and will end this latest deployment quickly, so we can get to the business of breeding more warriors for them.”
Bran nodded, early morning sunlight glinting off his golden horns. “You are a wise choice for our triad and our mate.”
Zul wanted to preen with pride at those words of praise. However, he had more self-control than that. He merely nodded and pressed his fist to the center of his chest in a gesture of solidarity and respect. “Glory and honor be yours.”
The golden and turquoise warriors thumped their chests with their fists and bowed their heads, then they turned away, heading toward the transport that awaited them.
“I’ll never get over how those bricks fly,” Ursula commented as she watched them enter the vehicle.
Hearing her voice, Zul glanced behind him, surprised she had approached without him noticing.
He chastised himself for such inattention and returned his focus to the departing warriors.
When the door closed behind them, short, stubby wings fanned out, and the vehicle rose with a soft whine of unseen power.
It hovered a moment, then shot upward into the cloudless sky and soon vanished from view.
As the distance between them grew, the mental bond linking Ursula with Bran and Zul thinned and snapped.
Zul read Ursula’s pensive expression and interpreted her thoughts and feelings without the bond. He murmured, “You are worried.”
She sighed and nodded. “I always worry.” They turned to head back indoors.
As they walked, she continued, “When I was a kid, one of my best friends had a dad who was in the military. I forget which branch. Anyway, he was deployed overseas and returned a few months later in a casket. I remember how devastated my friend and her family were. They moved away soon after.” She shook her head and sighed again.
“I cannot imagine losing another mate or, God forbid, both of them.”
“I do not think you need to worry about that this time,” Zul said. “The Council Supreme knows about our triad. They cannot—”
“Cannot?” she interrupted, her tone sardonic.
“Will not,” he corrected, “rescind the deployment orders, but they can and probably will redirect their service to a new assignment, one less likely to get one of them killed.”
“You almost make them sound conscientious and considerate,” she muttered. Scoffing, she added, “We know they are neither.”
Zul shook his head and agreed with her. “No, they are not. They use the military for their own aggrandizement, something I hope will soon be rectified.”
Ursula paused and looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You know something.”
He gave her a small, close-lipped smile. “I know many things.”
“Tell me,” she demanded.
He cupped her cheek with one massive hand, sweeping his thumb over the fine, silky skin. “I do not endanger innocents.”
Ursula stared at him, seeking a chink in his unyielding black gaze. Not finding what she sought, she took a step backward. He let his hand drop.
“You won’t tell me what’s going on, what Bran and Gil have planned.”
“I will not,” he confirmed. “I do not know the whole of it, only the intent.”
“That should be sufficient to tell me.”
“No.”
“You would prefer me ignorant?”
“I would prefer you safe.”
Ursula quelled the childish urge to stomp her foot. Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, she declared, “I’m going to town.”
“I will accompany you.”
His mild tone annoyed her precisely because he gave her nothing to fight against, no command or expectation of unthinking obedience. “There’s no need.”
He disagreed. “There is every need. I will ensure your protection.”
“There have been no more reports of rosvoi in the area,” she snapped.
“That does not mean there is no danger. Predators roam Uribern, predators that would see you as no more than a tasty morsel.”
Ursula pressed her lips together in a thin line of anger. However, she knew when she was beaten. “I leave in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”
Zul knew she wasn’t joking: she would leave without him.
He headed toward her studio to supervise the loading of wares into the hoverwagon to which two numpties had been hitched.
The castrati had the task well in hand, having streamlined the process into an efficient science, ensuring porcelain and stoneware items made the journey intact and undamaged.
Seeing the castrati needed neither his supervision nor assistance, he took some time to return to his quarters and arm himself.
Ursula met him at the hoverwagon a few minutes before the appointed time, Crow’s hand clasped in hers.
Her sour expression conveyed more clearly than words her annoyance that he had not been late.
The castrati assisted her and her son in climbing into the hoverwagon.
Another servant hopped up beside her and picked up the reins.
“Are you not riding?” she inquired, her tone haughty.
“I’ll escort you on foot,” he replied and took a step. The castratus driving the hoverwagon said nothing, but flicked the reins. Suvesh, still recuperating from his injuries, would remain at the manor while Hurvi took charge of the youngling. The numpties lurched forward and kept pace with him.
The journey ended without incident at the intended destination. Accompanied by her mate, Sifgul, Mistress Addilli emerged from their storefront and greeted her. Sifgul, the more lenient of her two mates, allowed Addilli to dash forward and take Ursula’s hand in friendship.
“I see the warrior remains, so the rumors must be true,” Addilli whispered, casting curious glances at Zul. “Gallik and Sifgul have kept watchful eyes on your shop. There has been no trouble.”
Ursula gave her hand a light squeeze and smiled. “It’s so lovely to see you again. I’ve been wanting to have a nice chat with another woman.” She glanced at the berserker. “Men. Ugh. They’re so overbearing.”
Addilli giggled and darted a glance at Sifgul who nodded at her, giving her permission to continue to socialize with their Prima. “So, is the rumor true? Is he the new Third in the Fangrys Triad?”
“Yes, he is,” Ursula replied and forced herself to give credit where credit was due. “He’s a good male and a good match for us.”
“You must tell me all about him over ti’chal. I have a fresh pot brewed.”
The two females retreated to catch up on local gossip as the Prima’s castrati finished unloading her wares.
Ursula enjoyed hearing the local gossip even if she shared little of her own.
Addilli fussed over Crow, plying him with snacks and praise while his mama allowed the indulgence.
The female also cast furtive glances at the hulking red berserker who stationed himself within sight of them while still keeping a watchful eye over the shop.
Nearly bursting with curiosity and questions, Addilli respected Ursula’s reticence and contained the urge to pester her friend for details.
With a fond farewell and a promise to meet socially for ti’chal and cookies baked by the Prima herself—Addilli practically quivered with excitement at being invited to visit the Fangrys compound—Ursula set herself to the task of displaying her wares while keeping a watchful eye on her son.
As he was accustomed to doing, Crow occupied himself with the stash of toys his mother kept for him in the shop’s back room while Hurvi hovered nearby, one eye on the shop and one eye on him.
Zul noticed the castratus’ vigilance and approached him. “I will see to the Prima’s safety. You need only concern yourself with the youngling.”
“Yes, my lord.” The castratus bowed and disappeared into the back room.
Heat warmed the base of his horns at the servant’s words.
He’d been called by his military rank, as “Third,” and a host of other names—some less than complimentary—but never as “my lord.” The privileges of being the Third of the Fangrys Triad made him feel guilty as though he’d stolen something valuable rather than having been gifted something priceless.
Scanning the shop, he found a corner that wasn’t packed with merchandise and which gave him an optimal view of the space.
He stationed himself there and stood guard.
Ursula found herself relaxing under Zul’s watchful presence.
The anxiety she’d refused to acknowledge eased: the berserker—her berserker—would keep her safe from all manner of assault ranging from mere rudeness to outright violence.
Even if he never said a word, his mere presence served as a deterrent.
She finished wiping down the newly unpacked wares, and they gleamed in the sunshine streaming through the storefront’s large windows.
She clustered the half dozen bowls and vases Zul had made under her tutelage, pleased with the way they’d turned out.
They’d quickly learned that he preferred to work with the more forgiving stoneware clay, and his wares had a rugged, masculine appearance that her finer work did not.
She thought they might appeal to the many bachelors in the village, and he had not objected to her suggestion that they be offered for sale in her shop.
If his skin were not red, she thought she might have detected a bashful blush across his sharp cheekbones when she’d made that suggestion.
News spread quickly through the village that the Prima’s shop had reopened for business.
Before long, the first customers entered.
Gazes flickering to the hulking berserker lurking in the corner, they bowed and greeted the Prima before looking over the merchandise.
They bid her a polite farewell and departed.
“Does this happen often?” Zul inquired, joining her at the counter.
She blinked at him. “Does what happen often?”
“People come into your shop, gawk, and leave.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, yes. That’s the reality of retail. Many customers are simply curious and just want to snoop. Some actually want to buy.”
“Why do you not hire employees?”
She grinned at him, and he felt his cock twitch.
“My shop barely makes rent; it certainly doesn’t generate enough revenue to pay an employee.
When I can’t be here, I rely on one or two castrati from Fangrys to work here.
Besides, I like interacting with people.
It’s why I became an event planner in the first place.
” She glanced through a window. “However, event centers really don’t seem to be a thing here on Uribern, at least not that I’ve seen. ”
“Tell me about them.”
Ursula’s expression grew dreamy as she recounted the festivals, conventions, conferences, and parties she’d both attended and organized.
“It’s a lot of work demanding long hours, but the delight attendees experience makes it all worthwhile.
” Her expression turned sober, perhaps even melancholy.
“However, free association doesn’t seem to be a Urib thing. ”
“Explain.”
“At a community festival or arts and craft show, for example, everyone is welcome. It doesn’t matter who someone is or where someone comes from, each person who wants to attend is welcome to do so.
A really good event will draw attendees from hundreds or even thousands of miles away.
Such an event will have exhibitors and vendors, most participating in the hope of selling goods and services.
It’s a way to meet a lot of different people, build your clientele, and perhaps make a bit of money.
They’re generally a lot of fun, even if they’re not profitable. ”
“Everyone is welcome?” he echoed, an idea forming in his mind.
He didn’t know what a mile was, but grasped the concept of people traveling long distances for entertainment.
After all, they did so for war, and what was such an event as she described but a polite, mostly friendly battle for customers?
“Everyone,” she said.
“You should do that here.”
She blinked, jaw dropping in surprise. After a moment, she closed her mouth and considered his suggestion. Tilting her head, she said, “You know, that’s an excellent idea.” Her expression clouded. “But I don’t know that Gil and Bran would permit it. They’re rather overprotective.”
Zul opened his mouth to reply, but the door opened and more customers entered.
He returned to his corner to lurk, trying not to scare away her customers while the Prima exerted her charm to sell them her wares.
When they left with their purchases, he rejoined her at the counter and resumed the conversation.
“As long as one of us is with you at all times, I believe you would be permitted to plan such an event.”
“Do you really think so?” Her eyes brightened. “But I’d have to get the mayor and the sheriff’s permission—and they certainly don’t approve of the freedoms Bran and Gil already allow me.”
Zul bared his pointed teeth in a fierce smile. “I am now the Fangrys Third, am I not?”
Ursula’s lips spread in an answering smile. “You certainly are.”
“Then I outrank both the mayor and the sheriff.”
Since Uribern’s feudal society deeply respected its caste system, Ursula immediately understood where he was going with this. “Yes, you certainly do.”
“Then you shall pick a day and plan a festival.”
Ursula threw herself at Zul and wrapped her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug.
His body responded to the press of hers against him, releasing pheromones to which her flesh responded with the heady aroma of feminine arousal.
Only by fierce control did he refrain from pressing his advantage of greater strength and nearly overwhelming desire.
She released him and stepped back, her cheeks flushed and her gaze averted.
“I… I’m sorry, Zul.”
He pressed a fingertip under her chin and lifted her face to meet his gaze. “You never need to apologize for touching me.”
“But… but…” She gestured vaguely at the tented front of his kilt.
“My cock is not my master,” he assured her even though he desperately wanted to yield to its throbbing demand.