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She licks her lips, nervous. "Remind me what tomorrow is again?"
I grin at her, nearly beside myself with anticipation. "The Tasting of the Bride."
CHAPTER 8
IOLANTHE
I lie in bed, unable to sleep. My thoughts race from the day, and I can't concentrate on reading, even though I have a stack of Agakor's books at the side of my pallet. Turnip snores in bed, completely unbothered by the events of this evening, but I turn them over in my head again and again.
I wonder if it's wrong that I'm not more upset over the fact that I was just stripped naked in front of strangers. Should I be? I think of my sisters and how they'd have reacted. It's just that…I knew it was coming. I knew it was part of the ceremony, and that ceremony was important to Agakor. He needs a bride that is noble, but also one that is willing and understanding of his people's traditions. And I want to be a good wife. I know he's half-orc and I should find him repulsive, but he's kind to me, and he has books, and, well…I keep thinking about how he let me pet his private parts so I wouldn't be frightened.
I'd stayed up all night to loosen the seams along one side of my dress so it could be easily torn from my body. So the ceremony could be quick. And while it had been alarming and distressing, I'd watched Agakor's face as my body was revealed to him. The rapt look on his face at the sight of my naked body had been everything. Even though his men had hooted and called at me, he'd stared and stared and declared me pleasing. When he'd gotten to his feet, I'd noticed that the front of his pants was stiff and tented, and I'd thought about how he'd said he grew hard when he was aroused.
I'd done that to him.
The revealing was over quick enough—I'd stayed at Agakor's side for the rest of the feast, covered in cloaks as he'd fussed over me and offered me small tidbits to eat so I wouldn't have to reach across the table. For an ugly, hairy half-orc, he's…sweet. He's not even that ugly, not to me. His features are strong and not all that human, but he smiles a lot, and I like that.
Tomorrow is the Tasting of the Bride.
I twist my fingers in my nightgown, trying to imagine what that will be like. I'm still not entirely sure I understand what's going to happen. He said he's going to taste me, between my thighs, and he's supposed to please me there. That it has to do with some old Cyclopae legend. But no one's ever touched me there. Sometimes I experiment and touch myself, but I quickly stop because it seems…wrong. Like I'm doing something I shouldn't.
Tonight, I slide a hand under my nightgown and imagine his head there. I'm scandalously wet, and I worry that's a bad thing. My pulse feels fixed between my thighs, and I'm restless and breathless. I should have asked more questions about this next part of the ceremony. I should have asked for specifics. After all, what exactly is a “tasting”?
I see the movement of feet from underneath the door, the shadows shifting, and I wonder if Agakor is out there.
I wonder if he can run me through the ceremony in private, so there won't be any surprises. So I don't embarrass him or myself.
As I get up from the bed, Turnip snores again, rolling over in Agakor's thick blankets. I smooth my nightgown and then run a hand down my braid before moving to the door. Nervous, I crack it open, and there are two guards waiting just outside the door, both of them orcs. They slouch against the wall, but jerk to attention the moment I open the door.
I bite my lip and stand in the doorway, feeling a bit foolish. "Is Agakor nearby?"
"He just left," one says while the other eyes me warily. "I'll go fetch him."
"Oh, it's not necessary…" My words die as the orc trots off, heading down the hall in search of my bridegroom. This was poorly thought out, I realize, as the other orc smirks at me with a knowing look. "I just had a question for him."
"Sure," the other orc says, and keeps on grinning as if he knows exactly what's going through my mind.
Flustered, it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I've changed my mind and I don't need anything when Agakor appears down the hall. He strides toward my rooms, a worried expression on his face. His hand is on the knife sheathed at his belt, and he's still dressed in the tunic he wore earlier—a tunic I had Turnip send back to him once I retreated to my rooms after the feast. The collar is open and it's slightly wrinkled, but…he looks good. He looks better every time I see him, actually. I like his heavy, dark brows and his equally dark eyes. I like that wide, slashing mouth of his and the heavy jaw. All of him is commanding and strong and oddly appealing.
