Chapter Eight
“Bethany! Bethaaaaaaaany!” A squealing ball of excitement launched herself into Bethany's arms, almost knocking her over.
“That your sister?” Yelena examined the clingy addition, noting their dark hair, similar noses. “Yes... I can definitely see the family resemblance there. I'll just... go.”
Kiara pounded her sister's chest, to the point where it was actually painful. “Kiara! Ouch! Don't kill me, I've already survived enough.”
“You have got to tell me everything you've done. They reported you missing about a fullnight ago, but here you are! It's like nothing even happened!”
“Oh, trust me. Things happened. I was taken hostage!”
“No!” Kiara gasped the word, before grinning like a maniac. “Now you have to tell me everything even more.” Her exuberant personality threatened to overwhelm Bethany before she'd even placed a foot down in the palace, and she batted her sister off after accepting the hug.
“Give me some space, Kiara. Then I'll come to you later and see what we can do about helping you with the position father put you in.”
“Oh, I'm fine,” Kiara said. “Got myself married. Got some cool light magic. Check this out.” She held out her hand, and light coalesced around it, forming a shield-like object. “Touch it!” She grinned eagerly, wanting to show her sister her newfound skills.
Bethany tapped it, then gaped. “What? It's solid.”
“Yep. And I can do this.” In her other hand formed a long, pointed object. A light sword.
Bethany's mind flashed back to the murals. To the light warriors with their glowing weapons, fighting back the darkness. “When I knew you, you still couldn't even attach light to a specific object.”
“I still can't do that.” Kiara's plump lips continued wearing that grin. “The others think that my lightweaving belongs to a different order. Which is why I can't learn things well. Though I can't really... learn things well anyway. But it's also why they can't teach me, because none of them know how to do this. Imagine teaching someone to swim if you've never swam a length in your entire life!”
She spoke everything rather fast, but Bethany was used to her sister's ways. Kiara's attention turned to Ronan, who smiled and waved at Bethany. “Wait... is that a werewolf?” She glanced sharply at Bethany. “Did you go and get yourself married when you went missing?”
Bethany groaned, though she flushed red at the same time. Her sister continued incessantly questioning, even as Bethany was led to her new quarters, with servants ready to look after her. The servants were silent, at least until they realized that Bethany had seen Ronan's face. Then they chattered away as if nothing strange had taken place.
“They do that. Not supposed to talk to unmarried people designated for the werewolves.”
“Oh no. More of that nonsense. Ronan was trying to explain to me some of the rules Kanthus has.”
“Don't let them hear you say that,” Kiara said. The servants appeared offended at the conversation the two siblings went through, as if to back up her statement. “And Ronan, eh? You guys getting on well?”
“As well as two kidnapped people forced together when escaping and running away from monsters can be, I suppose.”
She didn't bother telling Kiara about the conviction not to let Ronan out of her life. Even if that meant marriage. Tailors came to measure her body, to get her fitting clothes. She was allowed to bathe, eat, and sleep, tucked up in the opulent, glowing palace wing.
Perhaps she had under-appreciated Kanthus' beauty. With its glowing lakes, green glowing nearby swamps and fenlands, and the long, luminescent bridges. They were far more frivolous with light than the Fjordans, clearly proud of their city and culture.
She should take a tour of the city later. Right now, she wanted to do nothing else but sleep, and try to brush out all the stress from wondering if she'd ever return home.
And to give a last thought to those she had condemned to death with her foolishness. For not bringing enough people to protect her. From grossly underestimating the dangers of traveling the lightwoven path.
The next daynight, after sufficient rest, and after the news of Ronan's return had sparked a frenzy in the highborn court, according to Kiara, Bethany was asked to visit both the king and queen, and then Ronan's family, who were grateful for his return.
Yelena, in the meanwhile, found herself in a small room, waiting anxiously as they located what remained of her family.
I hope she'll find them and be happy, Bethany thought. Though obviously it might be strange at first, to see a long-lost person turn up on the doorstep. Quite some adjustment to do there.
Bethany sighed as she looked at herself in the grand dressing mirror, with her new yellow dress neatly wrapped around her, adorned with leggings underneath the frills. Quite modest, no unnecessary skin showing. She wore white elbow-length gloves to complement it, and her blue eyes stuck out like sapphires. It felt good to dab some of the makeup over her features—she didn't let the servants do that. She wanted command of her looks.
Some sense of control back in her life. She couldn't help but look at all the light sources around her, though, and just imagining sucking them from their sources. All of them. Winking out of existence, swirling unseen around her, until she let them vanish, or returned them to another light-holding source.
Then, with another prim smile, already feeling some of her social mask slip back on, covering the new Bethany that had forged itself in the last week or so, she walked out, guided by a red-haired servant, to meet with the king and queen.
It went as expected. Happy to see her. Old and startling with their yellow eyes, the ominous power that leaked out of their skins. Both were werewolves. And you couldn't meet with them directly without being a werewolf, married to a werewolf, or a special status servant—the only servants that managed the king and queen were highborn ones, who had volunteered for the position.
They were not as bumbling as her parents, and far, far sharper. So sharp that the wrong words would cut her like a knife. All the while, she needed to let it sink in that the werewolf she had slipped a lock pick to, the one to whom she did so on a whim, without being fully certain of the fact that werewolves had sentience—was now, legally, her husband.
Due to the Kanthians’ insane laws about it. Which everyone seemed to swallow in their stride. Even Kiara, for some absurd reason. Kiara, the one who couldn't settle down long enough to do anything, found herself gallivanting around with some swanky new husband, who she claimed had basically married her to save her the embarrassment of potentially ruining everything forever.
“Complete gentleman about it, though,” Kiara had said. “Was prepared to sacrifice his own standing just to make sure I didn't have it rough. It turned out great in the end. And, well, they allow me to do all the things I wasn't allowed to do back home. At least, without a severe, long, and boring telling-off by everyone in my family.”
When the king and queen dismissed her, she found herself escorted to Ronan's family.
Ronan didn't live in the palace like most of the other werewolves. He preferred a small string of cottages that lay in the back, beyond the royal gardens and shimmering orchards.
No sooner had she knocked on the door when Ronan burst it open, holding a tankard of ale in one hand, grabbing her by the arm with the other. Somehow without spilling his drink. “Aha! It's my savior! Look! Look, family—here's the hero of the hour!” He yanked Bethany in, and she let out a startled squeak. Her legs tangled in her dress and she stumbled, thumping into the chest of an older, gray-bearded man. Without any prompting whatsoever, the yellow-eyed man hugged her so hard she thought her bones might break from the pressure. She let out another squeak.
“You saved my son! I thought he was dead for so long. We can't ever, ever repay you for such a gift, blessed one. But we would be pleased to welcome you as family.”
He let go of her, and she spun into another bone-breaking hug, this time from Ronan's mother. “You beautiful, beautiful creature.” The mother kissed Bethany noisily on the scalp.
“I'm not doing the same thing,” came another voice, like Ronan's, but rougher.
“Aw, come on, Murphy. Get into the family tradition.”
“You realize the human's gasping for air? I think she's had quite enough.”
“Help... me...” Bethany managed, and the mother finally let go. Her yellow eyes brimmed with tears, and she looked set to bawl.
“Hello,” Murphy said, giving her a smile similar to Ronan's. No need to guess whose mannerisms Ronan had adopted the most. Though given the rather... outspoken emotive quality of this family, it did explain better why Ronan had such a cavalier attitude. “My wife's a little busy right now, but she extends her greetings to you as well.”
“No children yet,” Ronan added. “I asked.” He drank more of his ale, downing it at the same time as Murphy.
“What a pretty young thing this Bethany is, too! And a princess! What lovely hair. I've always like the Fjordan bloodlines, very strong with their lightweavings. The biggest percentage of lightweavers are Fjordan, did you know that? We have a small Fjordan community in the southwest quadrant.” The mother continued to fuss around Bethany, dusting off imaginary dirt. “My name's Amalia. My husband is Rantz.”
Still at a loss for words, Bethany merely nodded. She recognized the awkward social tactic Amalia tried. Showing how much she knew about Fjordan, saying how she admired them, but also coming off as a little bit... overwhelming. Sort of when you pulled out the only Kanthian at a party full of Fjordans and then showed everyone how open and tolerant you were for having a Kanthian friend.
She was trying a little too hard. Likely for the sake of her son. But she did act grateful.
“Three ruddy years,” Rantz growled, displaying gleaming teeth in a snarl. “Three years and we thought the Golubrians had offed you. The kingdom cut off all ties with them. We reinforced our borders, ignored all their diplomats, even raided a few of their towns. No one kills a sacred werewolf and gets away with it.” He snapped his jaws suggestively. “You bet they were sorry.”
“Golubria still... exists, right?” Bethany finally managed, massaging her chest, the air returning to her lungs. Damn but these people could hug.
“Oh, yes. But they're having an economic crisis at the moment.” He grinned. “Quite a few of the nations trading with them mysteriously stopped. Can't think why.”
“Hmm...” Bethany rather suspected it had to do with the enraged Kanthians forcing an embargo all around the kingdom. Golubria did rely on trade imports and the slave trade, after all. Hard to sustain if no one wanted to trade.
“You must forgive my family,” Ronan said, cheerful, clanking tankards with his brother. “I would say they're not normally like this, but they are.”
“Bah, she could do worse.” Rantz beamed proudly at his son. He had the same jawline, the same set to his eyes. Everything else came from Amalia, complementing Ronan's features in a wonderful genetic amalgam.
He went for the hug again, and Bethany took a few covert steps back, so the impact didn't threaten the air out of her lungs like before, since he was quite determined to get the hug off.
Amalia promptly started crying and hugging her son, which Ronan endured with a set smile to his lips. He pointed at his mother and explained, “She's been hugging me nearly non-stop since I got back.”
“I imagine your miraculous return from the dead has that kind of effect,” Bethany answered, now sitting down at their rather cramped dining table. For a family of highborn, they did live rather modestly. Perhaps a poorer section of the highborn? You did have people barely clinging to nobility in Fjordan as well.
Murphy promptly shoved over a drink that he'd poured for her. “I hope you're not sensitive to ale.”
Bethany accepted, figuring refusing anything at this point wouldn't be wise, and took a sip of the bitter liquid. Awful, but she pretended to like it, and Ronan clapped her on the shoulder.
They didn't act like the nobles of the court back in Fjordan. Or even the ones she'd glimpsed in the Kanthian palace. They acted like commoners, cheerful and happy with the return of their relative, shamelessly displaying their joy, when such emotion would be embarrassing in court.
And Bethany found herself loving it. Maybe not the spine-crushing hugs so much, but the air of delight that channelled through everyone, the honesty that shone in their eyes, their body language... it felt like being free. She guarded herself less, didn't need to be impeccable with her words. Though there were some truths she planned to keep hidden for now.
She often stole glances at Ronan, trying to equate the image of him in her head with the word husband. They almost connected, though something was still missing. Perhaps the suddenness of it. Not much time to prepare, after all.
But you couldn't exactly prepare for everything in life. It did have a way of sneaking up on people unawares.
Bethany also got the impression that Ronan's family assumed they had already consummated their marriage, which served as another embarrassing point to the whole thing.
Especially when Bethany tried to picture herself alone with Ronan. Going through the motions of husband and wife, seeing each other bare for the first time. No matter how much they prepared her for the idea of sex, it still felt like in a way she was giving away a sacred part of herself. Women's bodies were treated as something precious.
She didn't know if that viewpoint was necessarily... accurate. Because it gave people the feeling that women always had to keep a tight guard on themselves. The same care wasn't passed to men. The loss of their virginity never had the same impact.
That seemed unfair, somehow.
Kiara's right about how nonsensical the rules we follow at times are. Kiara found little regard for many of society's customs. And now that Bethany had been plunged into the company of those who didn't fit in at all, who made others suffer... she realized just how fragile all those rules were.
After all, you needed people to actually believe in them to make them work. They didn't come naturally.
It wasn't too long before Bethany left the warmth of the little cottage, returning to the palace with Ronan walking beside her, arm in arm.
He was a little tipsy, but still functional. “The liquor toxins don't last as long in a werewolf's body, unfortunately. And we have to drink a lot more than everyone else. But look at you. Half an ale and you're already tipped.”
“Hmm.” Bethany didn't think she was tipsy, but she did have a kind of bubbling excitement in her chest. One that made her want to explore, to talk, to kiss. Would that be too forward, kissing? Surely they needed more time.
That little voice of doubt found itself drifting to the discard pile of her thoughts, insignificant in the face of the excitement that wriggled in her stomach and raised the heat on her cheeks.
“Can I kiss you?” The question blurted out of her before she could take it back. Oops. Maybe she had drunk a little too much. She quashed the part of her brain that wanted to admonish her actions, and instead focused on Ronan.
Ronan's yellow eyes opened wide. His mouth opened and closed, before he said, puffing up slightly, “Of course you can. If you want to. I mean, you did say you'd marry me. And we are, you know, married. So we can do married things...”
“Oh, just shut up already,” Bethany growled, before lifting herself up to press her lips against Ronan's.
The shiver rippled through. The first time she'd ever kissed him. Or, well, anyone. Was there such a thing as virgin lips? She closed her eyes, letting herself slip into the moment. The image of the garden lights danced behind her eyelids, as well as the warm glow of Ronan's eyes, and the memory of his plump lips. Now, at this distance, she caught a good, earthy scent emanating from him. It comforted her senses, lured her closer to him, so that her body fit snugly against his. She didn't really know how to kiss. There had to be more to it than just the light pressure here.
Ronan helped guide her. His movements came fluid, gentle, and firm, and he used his hands to help steady her and slow her down, if she ended up trying to kiss him too fast.
Damn. She could drown in those lips. It all somehow worked. The strange circumstances in which they met seemed of little relevance now. The short time they knew each other for also felt rather puny.
No. They should have known each other for longer. It felt like they knew each other already, as if they'd been together for years.
And Bethany wanted to take things further. Much further than just this. She wanted the full deal. To experience what her body tingled for, longed for, and demanded as they pressed together. Such a thirst. It sent a delightful fire through her body, washing over her with an intoxicating display of emotion.
Passion, she thought vaguely. So this is what it feels like. A... a whirlwind made of thousands of thoughts and emotions. It tears them away from you, until they're out of reach until nothing but... her thoughts dissolved when he cupped her cheeks and dabbed the bottom of her mouth with his tongue.
Oh. That was nice. He could do that again if he wanted. Caressing her with his mouth. Driving her wild with all these impossible feelings. How easy would it be to just let everything go, give into this strange new heat?
Perhaps... perhaps she’d better tell him to stop. To ask for air, for a break. Before this grew too intense, before they went too far...
But those words didn't spring to her lips.
When he whispered against her mouth with his hot breath dampening her lips, “Shall we take this elsewhere, Princess?” she nodded and moaned eagerly in response.
Not like a dignified princess at all. But like some commoner, prone to giving in to whatever emotion she felt, instead of keeping them under lock and key.
It took them a few moments, and they had to tear away from each other's lips long enough to make the decision. Sometimes the doubts surged back, but one glance into Ronan's eyes, and that mischievous little grin, and all the doubts tumbled away again.
They made it through the gently-illuminated corridor and stumbled into her little room, which made the servant in it squawk and scuttle out. Although they were probably used to this sort of thing from their masters, it probably took them by surprise if said masters tried to break down the door in the process.
Bethany wasted no time then trying to get Ronan out of his clothes. It seemed like a great idea—revealing what lay under those now fresh, clean blue silk shirt and white pants. The clothes suited him, giving him a scruffy, easy-going manner that suited the rakish smile he wore. She had managed to catch glimpses of his chest before, and arms, but nothing else. And she wasn't disappointed with the exposed, lightly-furred chest that followed. He had pale blond curls over his pecs, the hint of toned muscle around his stomach—a male specimen in his prime.
Even with the scars, they didn't detract from his beauty. Though she saw some unpleasant ones, banding under his ribs, knotting over one corner of his chest. She salivated otherwise at the sight of such physical beauty, and the lust must have shown in her eyes, because his grin turned wicked.
“Hey, I want to see you, too.”
His hands helped unbutton her white dress. Bride colors in Fjordan, but not here, for some reason. They preferred red for a virgin bride.
With her front open to him, his eyes traced over her soft, pale skin, her breasts, and the light pink nipples which stood to attention, partly from the drop in temperature, mostly from his scrutiny.
“Lovely,” he murmured, a hand reaching out to touch under her chin. “You truly are. Any man would be lucky to have you. I'm definitely lucky, since without you, I couldn't be standing here this night.” The grateful look made Bethany's heart melt. The flattery did its job—except she knew he was being genuine. He meant every word.
She sighed, even as they slowly worked off the rest of the clothing, leaving nothing but the skins they were born in. One short stagger to the very inviting bed later, they slid themselves along it. His erection took her attention for a moment, since she'd never actually seen a male part.
“So that's what they look like.”
Ronan blinked, before smirking. “Oh, good. No one to compare it to. Even more lucky, see?”
She laughed, before her fingertips wavered near it. “It's not like I'm a virgin for nothing.”
“Yes, but people kind of get to see one way or another. Bursting in on a sibling... kids going you show me yours, I show you mine. It happens. Or maybe it's just me.”
“Yes... because it didn't happen with me. Princess, remember?”
He shook his head. “How can I forget? That's only the hundredth time you've told me you're a princess.”
Bethany shushed him again, before pointing at his erection. “Um, Ronan... can I touch it?”
Ronan's cheeks flushed slightly, but he still wore the amusement on his lips. “Sure. It won't bite. Don't worry.”
The texture of it was so strange to Bethany. She heard the guard complaining about being kicked between the legs before, and understood better why it might hurt so much. And the... testicles underneath. Encasing what helped contribute to children.
Now was probably not the time to start getting embarrassed, but Bethany managed it all the same.
“If it makes you feel any better, I've never actually seen a female body before. Shocking, I know. Man at my age.”
“Really?” Now it was Bethany's turn to be surprised. “But... you're old. Older than me. And men... don't they sleep around more?”
“Depends who you're asking. I certainly don't. Though to be fair, I did spend time being a slave and dealing with moody Golubrians for a good slice of my life, so... it builds tensions up. If you know what I mean.” His eyes gleamed in sudden lust. His pupils dilated, filling up the yellow. “And if you keep touching me like that... I might not be able to control myself.”
“I don't want you to control yourself,” Bethany replied, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.
He shuddered at that. Then, in a swipe of movement, he moved her hand away from him, pushed her onto the bed, and his pelvis brushed between her legs.
Bethany's heart fluttered at an incredible pace, and threatened to explode when his erection pressed against her wetness there, seeking a way inside. When he did, it became difficult to concentrate after that.
Well, until he stopped abruptly, concerned, and said, “Isn't there supposed to be, um, resistance? Doesn't this hurt?”
Mother did mention about the hymen, at least. “It's fine for me. My, uh, resistance is gone because of the horse riding I've done. It happens.”
Ronan appeared reassured by that, and before Bethany could comment on the fact that if he kept interrupting the sex, they might lose the mood, he began thrusting in her again, and her words soon crumbled into a litany of moans. She whimpered, crying out as the orgasm ripped through her. He kept going for a few moments afterwards, crackling pleasure through her, and when he came, too, he did so with a series of sharp thrusts.
Then, panting, he nuzzled his head in her neck, and his sweat mingled with hers. Sharing their warmth. Their emotions.
“Did that... feel good?”
Of course it did... Bethany fought past her floating, beautiful feeling long enough to say, “Yes... and you?”
She felt him nod against her neck. “Mm. That... I liked that.”
“I think we both did.” There was a kind of dull ache between Bethany's thighs, but a good one. First-time sex for both of them, and she had loved it. Enough to want to try again as soon as possible, but she saw the bone-deep exhaustion keeping Ronan down. Perhaps not now, then. Ronan adjusted himself further, now facing opposite her, with one arm looping over her ribs.
They lay in each other's arms, the lights weaving about them. Happy to talk, to decide whether they should get up or fall asleep.
They eventually opted for sleep.
After all, it had been a tiring journey for them. And they still had so far to go.