A faint smile appeared on his lips, but still, he hung back. I was not much of one with words — not like him. Perhaps mine were not enough to assure him.
“All these must be our children,” he said, gesturing to the singing frogs along the river and the birds in the trees nearby, bedding down for the night. “For as Bramble King, I cannot give you natural-born little ones.”
I swallowed. “Are you saying you cannot make love to me as a man to a woman?”
For some reason, this question left me feeling raw inside in a way I had not expected.
His eyes darkened further and this time he took a sudden step to shorten the gap between us. He looked surprised at that, as if he had not meant to move.
“That is not what I am saying at all. I shall feed you on love until you are overflowing. I shall drink of you long and deep as a thirsty man who finds water. I shall pour into you all the wild passions of my untamed soul and find in you the rest I have long sought and never acquired. You are order to my chaos, stillness to my energy, feather to my flint, and I shall love you as no mortal had ever loved, as no Wittenbrand has ever dreamed of, and you shall never lack but I fill it, never want but I sate you, never tire of my endless offerings at the altar of your heart.”
I swallowed, somewhat overwhelmed, and this time it was I who took a slow step forward and I gestured to the land around us, “Then I shall take all these to my heart, my husband. And I shall take you deeper into it, too. Together we will tend your land and people as though they were children to us.”
He made a humming sound in the back of his throat. I thought that perhaps he was pleased. But I had worries of my own as we stood here, finding our places as man and wife.
“But what of my life, Bramble King? For I am dust and ashes. I will fade and die in what will feel to you but a moment.”
“Ah,” he said and now he was smiling as he took the last step between us and cupped my cheek with his hand. The look in his eye was triumph as if he had won yet another battle. “But I am now and I am later, I am this moment and I am what is to come. And as you are one with me as my wife, so are you the same.”
I turned my face and kissed his palm and he let me, his lips parting slightly as if he were enjoying the gesture. I certainly was.
“Tell me then,” I whispered into his palm, still confused. “How are you one with time and the land?”
“Each life and moment is sustained by me.”
“And me?”
He leaned forward and put his forehead to mine.
“I sustain you, too. More than any of these, since our days — both in number and substance — are shared.” He leaned down and kissed me softly. “I could never stop breathing this life into you. How could I? I have made you my very heart. Given to the barrow. Taken back by my own hand. I refuse to surrender you to another. All challengers must hear and tremble, or find themselves lost without land or time to succor them.”
“Well,” I said between his kisses, a little breathless as they turned fervent and wordless. “I suppose that settles it then.”
And my own kisses joined his and for a time our language was the language of affection and reverence and there was no room for words or rational thoughts. I did not miss them. This new speech filled my mouth and heart and hands and left room for little else.
He was right, it turned out. The hollow was warm enough and his chest made an excellent pillow and the sword dress was not an issue at all. It hung in the tree next to the crown and sang pretty wind chime songs as the moon rose high and watched us. But it was not spying for it was not only the moon but also the lover I held in my arms, just as the hollow held me while the man kissed and adored. Had I never tasted the Wittenhame, I might find such contradictions impossible, but I had walked the Path of Princes and found now that I did not care if my world was comprehensible so long as it was full of my Bluebeard.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
I wokewith my head on my husband’s warm chest and his breath in my hair. His arms came around me, warm and secure, a gentle weight on my skin.
“I dreamed all the world blossomed for you and you sang to me of the stars,” he whispered into my hair and I pressed my cheek to his chest and pushed up so I could meet his cat’s eyes gaze with my own and our shared smile shot through me with warmth and security.
“I slept like the dead,” I said. “And I would know exactly how they sleep for I have seen their grim repose.” I paused there for a breath. “But I woke in your arms this morning, just as I woke to life from death by your word.”
“So you have,” he agreed, and his smile was so full of burgeoning joy that it was almost painful to watch. It washed over me with the rise of the bright sun, its beams just as warm and golden.
The kiss, when our lips met, sent thrills of joy straight through me and I thought that perhaps he felt the same, for he lingered there a while with me, inhaling deeply as if to memorize my scent, and offering gifts of small kisses to grace my skin. I offered the same, for while my affections might be lesser than what he could give, they held within them all the yearnings of my soul.
“Would that we might linger here, wife, in the heart of the forest, but you and I have work to do this day.”
“I am no shirker,” I teased, offering one last kiss before I found my feet.
His smile and the twinkle in his eye made my heart flip over and my breath catch.
“Will you let me dress you?” His voice was low and tinged with what I knew now to be desire.
I nodded, mutely, and with a wink, he snapped his fingers, and we were both fully dressed — not what I had imagined, but with him things never were.
