Chapter Twenty-Eight
Loreleivnna
The rest of the meal passes with little talk, though we’re too shaken from Father’s unannounced visit to fool around. Afterward, I sneak back to the palace, eager to fuck myself with Pikr’s words echoing in my mind.
Even using the servant’s corridor, I don’t make it to my room before Ilrunysanna stops me.
“Ow!” I squeal. Her grip on my arm is relentless as she wordlessly drags me down the hall.
Stopping at the entrance to Feivryn’s suite, Ilrunysanna shoves me inside. Feivryn turns at the sound of the feybells, her bored expression brightening with intrigue when she spots us.
“Oh, you brought the tea straight from the leaf.” Feivryn sets her hairbrush down and crosses the room, flopping onto the bed belly-down, chin propped in her hands. “I like the way you work, sister.”
“What the plucked roses do you two want?” I huff.
Crossing my arms, I take one step inside and lean on the doorway, ready for a swift exit. My sisters are always hunting through the flowers and trees for gossip, especially of my nonexistent love life. After years of less than crumbs, they’d foam at the mouth if I told them about Pikr.
My chest flutters. I want to brag about him, but the situation is still so murky.
“Why did Father plow through the palace like an avalanche caused by a mountain giant’s temper-tantrum?” Ilrunysanna demands. Her tone is cutting, but her eyes, yellow and bright like Mother’s, glitter with glee.
“Did he?” My gut twists and I wince.
I’m beginning to realize that, in all of my fantasies, I never truly considered the aftermath of their reality. Hurting Father and destroying a centuries-old friendship was not my intention.
“Worse,” Feivryn chimes in with a snort. “He ripped up a rosebed on his rampage! The gardeners were mortified.”
“Oh.”
Ilrunysanna leans into my bubble, arms crossed, brows raised expectantly. “Oh? Is that all you have to say, little sister?”
“That rosebush was the worst of the rumormongers, according to the spiritvines. Or so Father’s told me.” Feivryn shrugs, then pins me with a shrewd gaze. “But what scandal were they thorning on about?”
“Please, Lorelei, tell us!” Feivryn whines. “We won’t judge.”
I clutch my sides. “Why do you think it’s my fault?”
Ilrunysanna snorts. “Oh, did we forget to mention? Every other word out of his mouth was the name of the centaur you’ve pined over for a century.”
“Oh yes,” Feivryn rolls onto her back and pretends to inspect her nails. “The very creature you’re now betrothed to. How blooming interesting.”
My face heats, and I know my cheeks are colored with embarrassment when my evil sisters cackle.
“You can’t seriously think us so ignorant?” Ilrunysanna takes my hand in both of hers, rubbing her thumbs over my knuckles. “We love you too much not to notice the way you’ve looked at him all your life.”
“Not all my life,” I grumble.
Ilrunysanna walks backwards, guiding me deeper into the room.
“All of a sudden, he’s yours, like the Nocturn Aevumdivus tripped him with their fate-roots and he fell into your lap.” Feivryn sits up, making space for us on the bed. She flops back on the pillows and pitches her voice low and mysterious. “But paradise isn’t as lush as you expected.”
“Let us in,” Ilrunysanna pleads. There’s nothing but genuine compassion in her gaze, and I have to blink to make the image of Mother disappear from her face. “We want to help.”
I look between them. Feivryn smiles patiently, all teasing temporarily absent.
I don’t know if Father told them of our arrangement, but I know they will celebrate for me even if they’re envious.
Neither married for love originally, but it blossomed along the way.
While Ilrunysanna bemoans the loss of the honeymoon phase with her monogamous mate, she’s content.
Feivryn and her first mate share a second mate, a beautiful leshi’silvar woman named Paeonia, who now carries their third daughter.
I hope the sapling inherits Paeonia’s broad, moose-like antlers and mossy fur.
Feivryn lifts her brows, tilting forward as though she senses that I’ve cracked.
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “Oh, fine, you nosy thorns.”
My sisters crowd around as I tell the short version of recent events.
I attempt to leave out the damning bits—like disguising myself as a servant to visit the bar Pikr was known to visit, and the embarrassing admission that we tried and failed to share a lover’s frolic—but faced with such a rapt audience, I fail.
Their prodding questions and goading giggles quickly make me spill it all, and soon I’m laughing along despite burning with embarrassment.
“At least he wasn’t pollinating you when Father walked in on you today.” Feivryn lets out a sharp exhale. “That would’ve been the season’s end.”
I sigh. “After the joust, I thought I’d avoided the thorns, since Father advocated for the challenge.” Slumping back on the bed, I glare at the patterns in the ceiling foliage. “But no, apparently Pikr had agreed to annul the arrangement after the Isles of Aethereusum visitors’ departure.”
“Don’t wilt.” Ilrunysanna lies on her side, facing me. She smooths stray hairs from my forehead and gives me a pitying look. “We’ll work on Father.”
“Yes,” Feivryn agrees. “Father’s being a sapling. Between us whispering in his ear and Mother’s mad ramblings, we’ll sort him out.”
Tears prick my eyes. I hurry to swipe them away, but my sisters notice. They let out exaggerated coos awwws and poke me in the ribs.
“Stop, you vile creatures,” I cry out, rolling forward to clutch my sides. “Be nice, or I won’t tell you about his endowment!”
The incorrigible elves peel back, practically vibrating with poorly hidden fascination. In all of my stories, I withheld details of my betrothed’s impressive equipment. Neither are as inexperienced as I am, but no one is daft enough to think an elf’s cock is comparable to a centaur’s.
“Oh yes,” I drawl. Standing from the bed to face them, I cup my hands crudely at my groin. “It’s a true miracle of nature.”
My sisters giggle. Feivryn leans over, gripping Ilrunysanna’s shoulder with one hand while biting the thumb of the other.
“Like nothing you’ve ever seen,” I continue, taking one step back, then another.
“Oh, tell us!” Ilrunysanna clasps her hands.
I bolt for the door, yelling over my shoulder, “Maybe next time, weedlings!
Their shouts of outrage follow me all the way down the hall.