Page 4 of Boundless
After a minute or two he stirred, his eyes fluttering open and a soft little groan escaping his plush pink lips. Lips she had just kissed mere moments ago. Because he was her husband now.
Strange, that she was married. And stranger too that despite all of the doubt and heartache she'd been carrying since she'd volunteered for the honor, she didn't hate it. Something about the prince gave her hope that she wouldn’t be miserable in her duty, that they could find common ground and strike up a friendship. He had kind eyes and a gentle manner, had so far treated her more like a person than any other elf in this great hulking tomb they called a castle, and that made her rather fond of him.
The prince grumbled again, his eyes still shut, and burrowed his face into her shoulder while his fingers twisted into the fabric of her dress. He tried to roll onto his side, into her, and his inability to do so was what seemed to snap him fully awake.
He gasped, trying to rip himself free and almost spilling onto the stone floor. "Easy, sweetling," she murmured, surprising herself with the epithet. Lenlethael looked just as shocked, his pale cheeks flushing pink as he froze and looked into her dark eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"I—fine. P-put me down. Please." She did, crouching to look into his stunning eyes, like a bowl of milk filled with chips of emerald and obsidian. He spotted his father and hers embroiled in their heated conversation and took a step back from her, wincing and curling in on himself as he did.Interesting,Daega mused.
"It's alright, Da!" she called, waving the men back over. "He's quite recovered now!"
They were soon joined by the male heads of the kingdoms, the elf king's gaze lingering on her nearly-bare body with obvious interest. She lifted her chin, glaring down her nose at him until he pried his eyes away.Bloody elves, she thought, catching her father's eye. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his frustration with King Haedelon boiling over.
"I expect naught but honor from you, king elf," Kevothaen growled, crowding into the much smaller man's space. "And so the next time you look to my daughter—nowyourdaughter, I may add—you do it withnolust."
Haedelon sputtered, turning beet red. "Am I to blame for how—how she'sdressed? No man could pry his eyes from such a-adisplay!"
Her mother Gayeh stepped in, fury making her wings shiver and her tail lash. "A man is always responsible for where his eyes land, Your Majesty." Beside Daega, the prince shuddered at the chill in the matriarch's voice. "Not even her being as nude as a babe should be an excuse."
The king sputtered some more, struggling to defend his honor in the face of the ire of the Istarii Drakan's matriarch and her warlord. Daega leaned down again, something about the king's phrasing bothering her. "Have I worn the dress wrong, husband?"
He flushed a deep red this time, his eyes blowing wide. "You—you look lovely. Wife. Erm—i-it's just—usually there's a-a slip. That goes under." He cleared his throat. "Is... this not a p-part of your people's ritual?"
She blinked, processing this, then threw her head back and laughed, startling the royals into silence."There’s supposed to be another dress under this one, to cover my goodies and protect them from prying eyes. Tesse must have missed it. Or sabotaged me, knowing her,"she told her family in Draka. Tesse snorted at the teasing accusation, their younger sisters Sercha and Vrinn elbowing her in the sides."Perhaps the shock of seeing all my beauty bared scrambled their brains.
"No, princeling, this is a mistake, not tradition. Consider it a surprise wedding gift," she continued in Common. "And my sincerest apologies for the scandal I have caused," she added to the room at large. "Grace and understanding will bring us far in this new alliance." She grabbed Prince Lenlethael's hand and threaded their fingers together. "So let's celebrate the peace between our peoples with a feast!" Now that the deed was done, Daega was positively ravenous, and couldnotget this cursed garment off of her body fast enough.
King Haedelon looked as though he was a breath away from bursting a blood vessel or three, but gave a curt nod and announced that the assembled guests were invited to the reception feast in the ballroom beginning in one hour. Kevothaen and Gayeh took deep breaths, then made their way over to the elf king to make peace.
“Shall we go change, then?” Daega asked her husband, his delicate hand trembling in hers.
“Oh! Um, yes. O-of course. Shall I?…”
She smiled down at him, squeezing his hand. “Well, they said they moved my things to your chambers, so you’ll have to show me where I’ll be sleepingsometime. And I think if I don’t get out of this dress soon we’ll have an international incident on our hands, aye?”
Lenlethael flushed, grinning furtively like he thought he’d get in trouble for being amused.So skittish,she thought, something in her hurting at the idea of it and resolving to make a friend out of him more than ever. He struck her as the sort who was in desperate need of a friend.
He dropped her hand and led her out of the enormous hall, the guests sending them off with a weak round of applause, and down a confusing tangle of hallways that felt far too low and narrow, so that she walked hunched and with her head bowed to avoid scraping her horns on the ceiling. It was less austere in the more lived-in parts of the castle that they passed, but it still felt far from homey to Daega.
“How many people live in this great big house?” she asked him as they made their way.
“I-I’m not sure. There’s sixty-two staff, currently. I believe. And…um, I think at least two dozen guests for the wedding. Then m-me. And Father. Um, and you a-and your family. My lady.”
She snorted, elbowing him gently. “Knock it off with that ‘my lady’ nonsense. You know as well as I that I’m not a proper lady and it’s horseshite. Call me by my name, please.”
He flushed again, but met her eye and nodded firmly, his mouth hitching in one corner in a wisp of a smile. “A-as you wish. Daega.”
She grinned back, patting him on the back. “There now, that’s much better. And do you have something you’d prefer to be called?”
“Oh. Well, I s-suppose…I prefer Len. If that’s alright.”
“What do you mean, ‘if that’s alright’? It’syourname, dove. If you say that’s how you want to be called, then that’s the end of it, is it not?”
Len shrugged, walking up to a pale wooden door just like all the others in the hallway and drawing a key from his pocket. “Well—um. Father doesn’t l-like nicknames. Says they’re…p-pedestrian.”
Daega rolled her eyes, following him into the room and shutting the door after herself. “It’s a nickname, not aslur. Your da needs to relax, I think.” She let her gaze rove over the antechamber, a surprisingly warm sitting room that looked much more comfortable than the parts of the castle she’d seen thus far. Where everything else was crisp clean lines and spotless pale creams and golds and grays, the prince had decorated his rooms in soft jewel-toned fabrics and plush furniture that invited one to sit. The other chairs she’d seen looked more like they were daring you to, looking either impossibly delicate-looking or stiff and uncomfortably rigid. “This is nice,” she told her husband, trailing behind him as he led her deeper into his rooms—their rooms, now.
“Oh, thank you. I…I’m glad you like it.”
