Page 80 of Vows of Sacrifice

I shrugged.

“No, but Muvaria is the only nation where magic and everything related to it has been banned. Maybe there’s a link; at least, that’s my theory. I don’t know much about Ashana’s father, King Mersif Carlion. We should look into this, it could be helpful to us.”

They nodded in agreement.

“I’ll go to Tylbis and inform him,” announced Kynnen.

Hearing this, Morgana moaned in sadness. I studied the she-wolf, intrigued. Only with Kynnen did she react like this.

“How old is Morgana in her human form?” I asked abruptly.

My two brothers exchanged glances.

“Difficult to say,” began Paivrin. “She’s never transformed. She refuses to.”

I smiled. I suspected she was in love with the youngest member of the family. The shape-shifter had all the attitude of an enamoured young girl.

“I see.”

Grimson entered at exactly that moment to grumble that my wife must be soaking in her bath this very minute. I followed him into the kitchen. It smelled of potato stew and roast beef, and I salivated in anticipation. When I saw the white-haired old man starting to prepare the tray, I gently took it from his hands:

“Leave it. You’ve done enough for today. I’ll take care of it.”

He thanked me in a barely audible mumble, and I smiled at him. Apart from appearing friendlier than I actually was, it kept my hands and mind busy. I’d been dreaming of making love to my wife for so long, but now I felt a sort of nervous restlessness. Apprehension?

I mentally counted to twenty, then left the house under the amused gaze of my two brothers, which annoyed me. On my way to the cottage where my wife was staying, I passed the two chambermaids. They smiled at me knowingly, then one of them, the younger, I think, giggled. So, now I wondered what the tenor of the conversation between these women had been . . .

When I entered with our supper, I found Ashana modestly hidden under the bedcovers, pulled up to her chin. I stopped short on the threshold, curious.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

“Yes, yes.”

I closed the door behind me and set the tray on the table.

“Come and eat, Ashana,” I invited her in a gentle tone.

In truth, I was trembling inside. Right then and there, I had no desire whatsoever to satiate myself with stew anymore; the one I wanted to devour was in bed. Our bed.

“I’m . . . not sure it’s a good idea to eat in this outfit, Dovah.”

This sentence had the magical power to make my blood converge toward a single point of my anatomy.What’s that? What outfit?

“Come on, I’ve seen you before . . . Kazain sam2!” I exclaimed, a hand over my heart.

The words came out on their own when I turned around. Ashana now stood before me in breathtakingly erotic clothing. It was some sort of cropped top, simple, white, and completely transparent, matched with equally revealing baggy pants that hid nothing of the soft fur located between her thighs. My gaze returned to the brown shadows of the tip of her breasts. I was running out of air. I was going to die at her feet, asphyxiated by desire, on the night of our wedding. A terrible death. Ashana blushed.

“You have big hands,” she commented in a tiny voice.

I widened my eyes, then lowered them to the one still pressed against my chest, where my heart was.

“Yes, no, maybe . . . I don’t know,” I stammered.

I was hard. Very much so. It was as if my penis wanted to escape from my trousers. I had to sit down so as not to scare her, right there, in front of the potato dish and a few slices of meat.

“Ashana, you should eat a little.”

I didn’t dare look at her anymore. I knew instinctively that my irises had changed colour and shape. They were now those of the dragon. The chambermaids . . . Should I thank them or chastise them for dressing Ashana as a true temptation?

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