Tonight, I'll be a married woman. Tonight, I'll be in Agakor's bed.
A shiver of excitement curls up my spine. I thought I'd be tired today considering I haven't slept much in the last few days. There's far too many things going on for me to relax enough to drift off to sleep. But just like the day before, I'm full of energy and excitement. I'm ready to marry. I'm ready to spend the evening in bed with my husband. I'm ready for…everything. I pinch my cheeks and bite my lips to plump them, then peer into the mirror to see the results.
I fuss and primp because I want to be as beautiful as possible for when I appear downstairs. I want Agakor's eyes to light up at the sight of me. I want my husband to think me lovely. Music starts downstairs—the drumming, rowdy beats that the mercenaries prefer. It's not what I expected with a wedding, but then again, I didn't expect to get married. I decide I like it. It's a little wild and uncouth, like our marriage. Scents drift up from downstairs, and I know they'll be coming to retrieve me soon. I bite my lips again and cinch my bodice a little tighter so my breasts are flattened enough to make a smooth form under my dress. When Turnip finally arrives, my lips feel bee-stung, my bodice is so tight I can scarcely breathe, and I'm brimming with excitement. I clasp my hands in front of my waist, do my best to look serene, and follow her down the stairs.
The moment I step through the doors in the great hall, a cheer goes up. A blush stains my cheeks, but I can't maintain my serene appearance. A smile tugs at my mouth, and when I see Agakor standing in the center of the room, in front of Belara's priest, I smile even wider. By the time I reach his side, I'm grinning like a fool. He smiles back at me, his tusks moving, and he looks handsome. So handsome. Not in a conventional way, of course, but I can't stop staring at him. The deep blue tunic I altered to fit his thick neck isn't entirely buttoned up, the neck loose and slightly rakish-looking. He wears a finely tooled leather belt at the hips, a heavy money-pouch hanging from it, and his dark hair is swept back behind the points of his long ears. His dark eyes are bright as they focus on me, though, and I feel like the prettiest woman in the realm when he looks at me.
Agakor holds a hand out, and I place mine in his. His hand is big, his palm slightly rough, but it feels so right. I step up next to him, and we both tower over the smaller priest of Belara, but Agakor is a full head taller than me and I still feel dainty at his side.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs as I step close.
I just smile again, and in this moment, I don't think I've ever been happier. I squeeze his fingers, because I don't know the words to say to convey my happiness. Today is my wedding day. I'm marrying a lord who is kind, encourages me to read his books…and licked between my thighs for an endless amount of time last night just to pleasure me. I feel blessed.
And when he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it, his tongue brushing between my knuckles in a silent reminder, I feel blessed and aroused.
Agakor lowers my hand and then looks around the room. The music dies, and the murmurs of the crowd do, as well. Everyone is silent, waiting for the ceremony to begin, waiting for Agakor to bribe the priest of Belara, as is tradition. "I have called Belara's faithful to be with us today," my husband-to-be announces, and unhooks the money pouch from his belt. He holds it up in the air for everyone to see, and it's the largest blessing bribe I've ever seen. The bride and groom are supposed to be favored by the goddess depending on how much they spend (for Belara loves wealth as much as she loves beauty) and I'm a little stunned at the bulge of that sack. I suspect the priest is, too, because he looks awed as it's handed over to him. "I ask the goddess's favor so I may be joined in marriage to Lady Iolanthe of Purnav.”
"Belara is honored by your generosity," the priest says formally. It's a rote response—Belara is always honored, even if those marrying can only hand over a single coin instead of dozens—hundreds—but I'm still thrilled by his words. He gestures for us to stand closer together. "Join hands so I may begin the rites of matrimony."
Agakor holds out both his hands to me, and I place mine in his. We face each other, and my shyness grows. He watches me with such intensity, as if devouring the sight of me, and it makes my breath catch. Or maybe it's just how tight my corset is. His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, and new, fresh heat pools between my thighs—