Page 39 of Many Ruined Vows on a Forbidden Frolic

Ilrunysanna walks backwards, guiding me deeper into the room.

“All of a sudden, he’s yours, like the Nocturn Aevumdivus tripped him with their fate-roots and he fell into your lap.” Feivryn sits up, making space for us on the bed. She flops back on the pillows and pitches her voice low and mysterious. “But paradise isn’t as lush as you expected.”

“Let us in,” Ilrunysanna pleads. There’s nothing but genuine compassion in her gaze, and I have to blink to make the image of Mother disappear from her face. “We want to help.”

I look between them. Feivryn smiles patiently, all teasing temporarily absent.

I don’t know if Father told them of our arrangement, but I know they will celebrate for me even if they’re envious. Neither married for love originally, but it blossomed along the way. While Ilrunysanna bemoans the loss of the honeymoon phase with her monogamous mate, she’s content. Feivryn and her first mate share a second mate, a beautiful leshi’silvar woman named Paeonia, who now carries their third daughter. I hope the sapling inherits Paeonia’s broad, moose-like antlers and mossy fur.

Feivryn lifts her brows, tilting forward as though she senses that I’ve cracked.

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “Oh, fine, you nosy thorns.”

My sisters crowd around as I tell the short version of recent events. I attempt to leave out the damning bits—like disguising myself as a servant to visit the bar Pikr was known to visit, and the embarrassing admission that we tried and failed to share a lover’s frolic—but faced with such a rapt audience, I fail. Their prodding questions and goading giggles quickly make me spill it all, and soon I’m laughing along despite burning with embarrassment.

“At least he wasn’t pollinating you when Father walked in on you today.” Feivryn lets out a sharp exhale. “That would’ve been the season’s end.”

I sigh. “After the joust, I thought I’d avoided the thorns, since Father advocated for the challenge.” Slumping back on the bed, I glare at the patterns in the ceiling foliage. “But no, apparently Pikr had agreed to annul the arrangement after the Isles of Aethereusum visitors’ departure.”

“Don’t wilt.” Ilrunysanna lies on her side, facing me. She smooths stray hairs from my forehead and gives me a pitying look. “We’ll work on Father.”

“Yes,” Feivryn agrees. “Father’s being a sapling. Between us whispering in his ear and Mother’s mad ramblings, we’ll sort him out.”

Tears prick my eyes. I hurry to swipe them away, but my sisters notice. They let out exaggerated coos awwws and poke me in the ribs.

“Stop, you vile creatures,” I cry out, rolling forward to clutch my sides. “Be nice, or I won’t tell you about his endowment!”

The incorrigible elves peel back, practically vibrating with poorly hidden fascination. In all of my stories, I withheld details of my betrothed’s impressive equipment. Neither are as inexperienced as I am, but no one is daft enough to think an elf’s cock is comparable to a centaur’s.

“Oh yes,” I drawl. Standing from the bed to face them, I cup my hands crudely at my groin. “It’s a true miracle of nature.”

My sisters giggle. Feivryn leans over, gripping Ilrunysanna’s shoulder with one hand while biting the thumb of the other.

“Like nothing you’ve ever seen,” I continue, taking one step back, then another.

“Oh, tell us!” Ilrunysanna clasps her hands.

I bolt for the door, yelling over my shoulder, “Maybe next time, weedlings!

Their shouts of outrage follow me all the way down the hall.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Pikquarrys

Princess Loreleivnna takes another long drink of cinnamon-apple mulled wine, her throat bobbing as she swallows. The din of the crowded festival market fades around us as my mind floods with images of pumping her throat with my slick, filling her belly with it so her body is better prepared to nurse my foals.

“Oh, that’s delicious!” she exclaims, gem-green eyes wide and sparkling.

I sip my horn. The fresh cider tastes like fond memories and new beginnings all at once. I tip the horn toward the vendor. “Delicious.”

The princess watches me with those alluring eyes, green and sparkling like the peridot gems crafted in volcanoes as strong-willed as the woman before me, and I gravitate toward her without conscious thought. My hand lands on the small of her back, and she lets out a soft noise that I’m sure no one around us heard.

“Loreleivnna!”

The woman’s voice is ice down my back. I snap my hand away and drop into a bow with my left leg extended.

“Your Majesties,” I greet the King and Queen, noting the stiffness in King Vyrion’s stance.