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Marvik barks out a laugh, and I feel a wave of amusement in my chest that is not my own. In the heat of my discovery, I hadn’t even noticed that the bite took, that we are now bound as one.
“Do you feel that?” I ask, reverence and peace filling me. I stroke myAsh’ka’s chest with my fingers.
Marvik’s arms tighten around me. “Yes, huntress. It worked. We are mates. No one can separate us now.”
Happiness fills me, mine and his, but a hint of trepidation lingers. I still don’t know what the future holds, but I fear it is certain death.
“None of that,” Marvik says, kissing the top of my head. “We can trust Adalind. It will be alright.”
“If you say so,” I say, still fearing that I have dragged Marvik into my dark fate.
“I do say so,” he says, kissing my head again. “Now, sleep, huntress. It’s been a long few days.”
Iamtired. The bloodroot is wearing off and we haven’t slept in days. So, safe in myAsh’ka’s arms, I let the darkness claim me.
Chapter 27
Marvik
Afew days pass, Dura and I staying in our cell. Adalind doesn’t return, and that is probably for the best. Now that we are mated to each other, Dura and I are insatiable for each other. We barely stop lusting after each other long enough to stop when we hear someone coming down the corridor with food, huddling under the blankets as they bring the food and then falling back into each other as soon as they leave.
On the third day, just as we finish another round of sex, a wry female voice calls out, “Please, tell me you two idiots are tiring of each other! I want to sleep, godsdamnit.”
Dura and I exchange a startled look. There’s no one at the grate and the voice sounds like it is coming from down the hall, in another cell. We knew that likely the guards must be hearing and ignoring us, except when it is time to feed us, but we didn’t know that there was anyone else currently held in the dungeon.
“Sorry!” I call out, even as Dura nuzzles into my shoulder, placing a kiss there. She doesn’t seem to care too much that we had an audience. “Not tired of each other yet, but we’ll try to keep it down!”
Dura laughs lightly.
“Gods! It’s been three days! Can’t you think of anything else to do?”
“Nope! Newlyweds.”
The voice barks out a laugh. “Newlyweds! In the dungeon? What did you do? Fornicate in front of everyone at your wedding?”
“Not exactly,” I call back, even as I pull our blanket over us. The dungeon is damn cold, and this cot isn’t much protection from the chill. “What did you do, stranger?”
There’s a pause and then she calls out again, “I tried to kill the queen.”
My amusement swiftly banishes. Even Dura tenses on top of me. I keep my tone even as I call back, “Why did you do that?”
I can almost hear the shrug in the prisoner’s voice as she responds, “Because I’m stupid. And angry. Bad combination. I blamed the queen for King Yorian’s actions, dragging all the mages into the war and getting most of us killed. When I heard the queen was marrying the orc king and was escaping unpunished for her husband’s crimes, I lost it.”
So the prisoner is a mage. She must be in the anti-mage chamber.
“Trying to kill the queen is quite the crime,” I shout back conversationally. I want to know more, in case I can tell Adalind more about this would-be assassin while she’s in a chatting mood. “Why haven’t you been executed for it yet?”
The voice laughs darkly. “I have no idea. At first, they thought I had some information they wanted, but when it turned out I didn’t know enough to be useful, I thought I was finished. But I haven’t gone to trial yet and they just keep me in this thrice-damned cell, cut off from my magic. I’m sorry that I ever tried to kill her; it was a fool’s errand. The queen has magic of her own and an angry orc protector besides. I would never have succeeded.”
So she’s not really sorry that she tried, she’s sorry that she couldn’t succeed? This is a dangerous woman. Why is Adalind keeping her alive? It makes no sense.
I open my mouth to get her to keep talking, when the heavy gate creaks open at the entrance to the dungeon, echoing through the dark space. It’s too early to be dinnertime. Why are they coming in here?
We look up to see the prison master himself at our grate, a lecherous smile on his face. “Alright, lovebirds, today’s the day. You’re to be brought in front of Their Majesties.”
The lock in the door creaks as he opens the door, and a servantcomes into the cell, carrying a steaming bucket of water. Another servant follows her, holding what appears to be piles of clothes. She looks at us under our blanket and blushes bright red before putting the pile on the cot across the room. Both servants awkwardly curtsey before leaving.
“Get cleaned up,” says the prison master, eyeing our blanket speculatively. Though whose body he’s trying to see is anyone’s guess. If it’s Dura’s, I’ll kill him myself after the trial. “I’ll give you a few moments to get presentable, then I’m to escort you to your trial. Don’t make the queen and king wait too long, though.”
