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Because once an orc catches his prey, he claims her. Well, traditionally.
There are more traditions at stake here than just mine, though, and Iolanthe is being a good sport about all of this. I'm not going to make our first mating on the forest floor. I'll chase her down, tap her lightly with the club, and then we'll find someplace safe to bunk. The next morning, I'll allow her to escape me and head back to the keep with the horse I'll be keeping nearby for her, and when she returns, we'll have the final ceremony. It's just a lot of posturing to please my father and his clan.
Even so, I'm more pleased than I thought I'd be that she's willing to do this with me.
I head through the keep, looking for my bride. The servants are scraping old drips of wax from the walls, and the place smells fresh and clean. Day by day, it's becoming more of a home under Iolanthe's command, and I love that. I don't see my bride or her ancient chaperone anywhere, so I head upstairs to the solar. When she's not there, I try the bedroom. "Iolanthe?"
My bride immediately opens the door, beaming at me. She's dressed entirely in deep red, in full skirts with an embroidered bodice that pushes her tits up magnificently. A tiny decorative chain across the front panel of her bodice emphasizes the heave of her breasts, and her sleeves are puffy and full, decorated with ribbons. Those ribbons match the artful loops that lace together the heavy panels of her skirts in a peekaboo fashion that give tantalizing glimpses of the chemise underneath. She's beautiful, of course.
It's also completely the wrong thing to wear for the occasion. I shake my head at her. "You'll have to change."
Iolanthe chews on her lower lip, glancing down at her dress. "This is my oldest gown. I didn't bring very many with me, Agakor, and we've already torn one."
Right, for the first night's ceremony. I stare at her clothing. Now that she mentions it, the plush red of her dress is faded in certain spots, and the artful ribbons are frayed. The enticing chain across her tits is tarnished, but there's no denying she's still far too overdressed for me to chase her down in the woods. "How many dresses do you have total?" I ask.
Her cheeks grow pink and she ducks her head, tugging on her bodice like she does when she's anxious. I've noticed that small movement of hers. "Four. Well, three now. But I can mix and match the pieces—"
Exasperated, I stare at her gown. A new idea hits me and I grab her by the hand. "Come with me."
CHAPTER 17
IOLANTHE
Hours later, I'm seated atop one of the horses in a completely inappropriate outfit and trying not to squirm. I've never, ever worn pants before. They fit odd. My legs feel loose, and I actually miss the swish and heavy comfort of my skirts against my legs. The only thing I like about this is that I'm wearing one of Agakor's warm tunics, and an old belt of his is cinched at my waist, along with a dagger. The cloak I wear is dark and heavy, but it smells like him and it's warm.
I'm not sure how I let him talk me into wearing men's clothes, but I'm not a fan of it. I want my dresses back, even though I understand they're not appropriate for tonight's ceremony. I just feel oddly naked without a bodice to keep everything in place, or the heavy rustle of the chemise against my legs. It's just adding to my unease about tonight's ceremony.
It's not that I'm worried about “marrying” Agakor in the traditional orc way. It's that it entails me racing off through the dark woods under the full moon. I'm not an outdoorsy woman. I like being home with my books and my sewing. I like cozy nights by the fire and having a clean house. I don't like hunting, or riding, and I sure don't like pants.
But I like Agakor, and I want him to be proud of me, so here I am. He rides at my side on the biggest horse I've ever seen, and his men are not far behind. A few orcs race behind the horses, chaperones for tonight's ceremony. I'm told that they'll be in the woods, scent-tracking what happens with us but not actually viewing anything so they can give us “privacy.”
It makes me wonder if brides in the past were claimed in the dirt, if their new husbands kissed them everywhere in the darkness and made them their wives under the trees. I don't know if I find that appalling or completely and utterly titillating. Agakor promised this won't happen for us, and I suppose that's a good thing.
