Lia was staring at me, finely arched brows climbing her forehead as I delayed. “You don’t have to be afraid,” I said, trying to sound gentle. “It can be pleasurable. I’ll be careful. I won’t hurt you.”
Her brows fell into a crinkle of disbelief. “I’m not afraid. You’re new to Calanthe and haven’t seen much of the goings-on here, but believe Me, I’m far from ignorant about sexual pleasures. Just because I haven’t been with a man doesn’t mean I haven’t had sex.” She raised her brows into significant arches.
Her frankness shouldn’t have put me off kilter, but it did. As did the image she put in my head. My face heated and I prayed to Sawehl she couldn’t see it. Or that she wouldn’t figure out just how ignorant I was. She was waiting for my reply, so I settled for, “Good.”
When I said nothing more, she huffed an impatient breath. “My point is that we can have sex without sharing rooms.”
She said that now, but I knew the disadvantage of giving up territory. Besides, I wanted her where I could keep an eye on her. Married or not, we barely knew each other and had been mortal enemies not an hour ago. “I’m staying.”
She turned her head to gaze out the window, her lips moving in a silent litany. Prayers to Ejarat or cursing my name, it didn’t matter. When she faced me again, she’d regained her calm poise, though the effect was entirely ruined by her bizarrely disarrayed makeup.
“Can we just get through tonight, Conrí?” she asked, as if making a formal request. “Presenting a certain image is critical for Me. You can sneer about it to yourself all you like—you can even insult Me to My face and act as if My concerns about clothing and privacy are silly female whims—but in the presence of others, you will show Me respect. In return, I’ll show you respect. In case you haven’t figured it out, the next few hours will be key to how Calanthe, and the entire empire, views our marriage. If you want to be recognized as My legitimate husband, a king in your own right, and worthy of commanding the forces we’ll have to field when His Imperial Majesty inevitably attacks, then you need to present the correct image. We both do. Have I made myself clear?”
“I’m not stupid, Lia,” I ground out, more stung than I should be.
She paused, then pressed her lips together. “No, you’re not. I apologize that I spoke as if you were. I have ample evidence that you’re exceedingly clever,” she added in a wry tone.
The apology surprised me. I reached for her hand—the one without the orchid ring—and peeled it off her hip, holding it carefully folded between mine. “No, I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. “What do they say? The truth hurts. I hadn’t thought ahead to the politics. Not my strong suit.”
A slight smile curved her lips. “Well, you’ve had other things on your mind today, so I can hardly blame you there. Fortunately thinking ahead to the politics is what I am good at. Let Me do it.”
I acknowledged that by inclining my head. On impulse, I followed the movement down and brushed a kiss over the back of her hand. She didn’t gasp, but I felt the reaction in her, maybe through the new connection. I straightened and looked into her eyes. She regarded me just as gravely. “Maybe we can learn to work as a team,” I said, then attempted a smile. “After all, the prophecy says so.”
She made that indelicate snorting sound, barely audible but there. A glimpse of the woman beneath the elaborate costumes. I began to suspect my Lia might have a very dry, very sharp sense of humor. Not a trace of it made it to her regal tone when she replied, but I heard it nonetheless. “I certainly hope so, Conrí. Otherwise we’ll tear each other’s throats out and save Anure the trouble.”
“Something to avoid,” I agreed. Then cleared my throat. “I’d like my people to attend.”
“Lady Sondra and Ambrose will of course attend you.”
“I mean on at least the ship that was in your harbor. How far away are they?”
A cagey smile curved her mouth. “Not far at all. I may have … prevaricated about where I sent your ship.”
I laughed, a hoarse bark of acknowledgment. “I’m glad we’re on the same side now.”
“Is that what we are?” She looked thoughtful. “I’ll arrange for your people to be notified.”
“Thank you, Lia.”
“Consider it a wedding gift,” she replied as she turned and left. Something made me think she laughed at some joke of her own.
27
“We’re starting over,” I declared after one glimpse of myself in the mirror. No wonder everyone kept staring at me, then trying to pretend they weren’t. “Take everything off, scrub Me down, and begin again.” It would take hours, but I had at least three. They couldn’t start the celebration until I arrived and Calla would likely thank me for every moment of delay.
“You heard Her Highness,” Tertulyn snapped, although Ibolya and Orvyki had already moved to lift away the crown. She took up her scissors and began the more expedient method of freeing me from my current—and exceedingly rumpled—gown by snipping the stitches and laces. The crown safely in its niche, the same pair of ladies removed my wig and I rubbed my fingers over my scalp in relief.
Glancing at the closed door, I hoped that Con would stick to the agreement and stay out there. How he’d react to my baldness I wasn’t sure, but I suspected he wouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t care. He was my husband for the rest of my life whether he found me attractive or not. Judging by the urgent erection he’d developed while kissing me, he’d have no trouble consummating the marriage, regardless of his feelings. Still, I kind of dreaded his reaction. When I’d complimented the Lady Sondra’s lovely hair, she’d told me that she’d spent most of her life in the mines with her head shorn—they all had—and she would never cut it again. She’d spoken the vow with such vicious certainty that I hadn’t doubted her.
Or that Con would feel the same way.
I’d never considered that I’d have an actual husband sharing the intimacies of daily life with me. He’d have to know the truth about my nature sooner or later. Hoping to delay that conversation as long as possible was likely futile. He’d discover soon enough just what kind of “other” he’d vowed to embrace. Perhaps I could delay that awhile longer.
“Ibolya,” I said, “do I have any wigs that can be shaped to hang long and loose, a more natural look and color? Something I can wear to bed.”
“I can check, Your Highness.” She curtsied and stepped away. Nahua took her place, dabbing the glue dissolver on my scalp and following it with a soothing salve. Orvyki asked me to close my eyes so she could loosen the lashes.
“I can’t believe You’re concerned about contriving natural-looking hair for him,” Tertulyn said, showing her ire in the way she jerked at the seams of the gown as she loosened it. With my eyes closed, I could hear the venom in her voice with clarity. Nahua and Orvyki remained studiously silent, not offering opinions as they might otherwise, demonstrating how deeply they felt the tension.
“Oh yes,” I replied tartly. It had been a long day in a series of long days, and wouldn’t end for some time to come. “It’s so odd for a woman to wish to start off her marriage on a pleasant footing. Ejarat teaches us to ignore what pleases our spouses, doesn’t She? Oh wait, no. No, She doesn’t.”