“Your Highness,” they replied in unison and watched as he strode down the embankment toward the bailey.
“I like the way he said that,” Serovek said.
“Said what?”
“Margravina.” Serovek slipped an arm around her waist to draw her to him. The rising sun cast a red patina on his dark hair. He'd shaved his beard off when they returned to High Salure, revealing once more the refinement of his features, with his elegant jawline and the slant of his mouth when he smiled.
“It's taken some getting used to,” she admitted. During her first week at High Salure, everyone there must have thought her hard of hearing because she'd ignored them when they addressed her by the title.
“You carry it easily,” Serovek assured her.
“That's because you haven't forced me into hosting fluttery human women at social gatherings where the brutality of pouring tea and making small talk will surely be the death of me.” She stroked his back through his cloak, admiring the play of muscle under her palms, even through the fabric.
He laughed. “We'll have to face that at some point. No getting around it, but I'll be at your side, protecting you from the vapid and the stupid.”
“My hero,” she said, both mocking and serious.
He planted a hard kiss on her mouth before saying “Always. Until then, we'll leave it to the new steward to field the occasional unexpected visit from a curious neighbor. She seems a capable sort, good with accounts. Quiet but unflappable when it matters most. I'd much rather have you in my training yard demonstrating to my troops how a Kai can use their sorry arses to mop the cobblestones.”
Wary of bringing any more overly ambitious younger sons of lesser noblemen into High Salure as a replacement steward, the margrave had surprised everyone except Anhuset when he'd given the role not only to a woman but to a woman of common birth whose father was a merchant in Timsiora and who considered his daughter's new role the pinnacle of all pinnacles. Anhuset had discovered the new steward to be all the things Serovek praised her for and was glad to have her at High Salure. Her husband stood behind his philosophies. He liked strong women, soft or not. “She'll be busy enough cataloging the entire village's worth of goods Brishen decided was my dowry.”
He nodded. “A generous man, the Khaskem.” He caressed her hair, twirling one of the tiny braids at her temple gently around one finger.
She captured his wrist and tugged at the ribbon still tied there, more frayed then ever. “This will fall off soon,” she said.
Serovek shrugged. He slid a hand into her hair to where another newer, whiter ribbon lay hidden. He'd woven it there himself when, after returning to High Salure, he'd presented her with a small box filled with many white ribbons. “Then I'll just take this one to replace it.” He pulled her close. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I am home.”
Serovek flinched, even as his arm tightened around her for a moment before going slack.
She, on the other hand, held him even tighter. “Are you not here beside me?” He nodded, a smile blossoming across his mouth and his deep-water blue eyes turning almost black. “You will always be home, no matter the ground I stand on,” she said.
The kiss they exchanged stole the breath from her lungs and made her knees tremble.
Serovek pulled away to cup her face between his hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “So may it be,” he said in a reverent voice.
She hugged him until his back audibly cracked and he grunted, making her grin. “So may it remain.”
END