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“Why?”
“Because I have accepted that we are bound together.” Cord did not look at her.
Tegan was pleased he was not paying attention to her as she knew she had not hidden her smile. “I am sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Cord looked at her questioningly, his eyes running over her. Her jacket and pants were damp with snow, her hair was coming loose of its braid, and he noticed her hair still had snowflakes clinging to it.
“That you are bound to me when you do not want to be,” she answered. Tegan stilled as Cord closed the distance between them. “What are you doing?”
“I did not say I did not want to be bound.” Cord ignored her question as his hand ran over her hair. “I would just like to know it was my choice to be so. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” Tegan wasn’t sure she had spoken loudly enough for him to hear her, not that it mattered as he seemed to be fixated on her hair.
“Here,” Cord spoke, and Tegan felt the spell wash over her as he dried her clothes.
“Thank you.”
Cord nodded as he dried his own robes. “Do you not wish it were not so?”
Tegan stepped away from again. “It is what it is, Castor. There is no point wasting time on it.” She gave a light laugh as she pulled her braid over her shoulder. “The fact you are the only male I have ever kissed and will likelyeverkiss...I suppose I may have wanted to try another at least. However, I cannot change it now.” She shrugged slightly.
Cord had stilled and looked at her like a cat looks at a fat juicy mouse. “I am the only male you have kissed?” he asked her softly. Tegan nodded even as her feet took her another step backwards. “Oh my little tiger.”
He smiled at her triumphantly, and she wasn’t sure why. “What?” Tegan asked cautiously.
“Those pecks could not even be called kisses.” Cord crossed the small space between them. He bent low, and his lips hovered near hers. If Tegan stretched towards him, his lips would be against hers. He must have sensed her intent as he moved slightly. “You’ll know when I kiss you properly, and you will never want another,” Cord whispered huskily in her ear. With a light chuckle, the Castor walked out of the room, leaving her standing there, breathless, with her heart racing.
Cornelius sat in his office and fumed. He couldn’t deny it, and there was no point sugar-coating it, not when he was sitting thinking to himself about how utterly futile and useless the current Great Council were. Leaning forward, he picked up a quill, and dipping it in ink, he started to write his letters in a swirling script. Calligraphy had been a heinous lesson as a child, but as Cornelius’s mind became too chaotic for his young mind, a tutor had given him regular calligraphy lessons to ease his mind. It was therapeutic, and as a result, there were many Akrhyn who envied the beautiful handwriting of the Akrhyn Elder. His quill flowed through his letters smoothly, and he dipped the nib many times as he went through his exercises.
“It must be worrying indeed if you are doing that,” Delilah spoke softly as she entered his office. A house Akrhyn followed her with a tray of tea and cake. “It is time for afternoon refreshment, my husband.” Delilah sat in a chair and pulled out her needlepoint.
They waited until the house Akrhyn had poured their tea, plated their cakes, and left before Delilah spoke again. “What ails you?”
“The Great Council are idiots.”
Delilah smiled indulgently as she reached forward for her cup and saucer. “You knew this already.”
“I thought I was making progress!” Cornelius growled as he took a bite of the sweet cake. “Why does our cook insist on making lemon cake?”
“She believes you like it,” Delilah answered as she ate her own cake with a small fork.
“Why would she think I like it?” Cornelius asked as he dropped it on his plate and wiped his hands on his napkin.
“Because you told her that you did.” Delilah ate her cake slowly and meticulously. “At an event, several months ago, you complimented her on it.”
“So now she only makes me lemon cake?”
“It would seem so.” Delilah did not hide her amusement. “Is the cake dilemma more pressing than the Great Council?”
“Do not be impertinent, wife, you know I cannot abide it when you are feisty.” Cornelius reached over and picked up another slice of cake off his wife’s plate, this one with raspberry frosting. He tasted it and, approving, he placed it on his plate.
“Apologies,” Delilah murmured demurely. “Would you like to discuss the Great Council?”
“They will not hear my petition for another full cycle.”
“Your petition?” Delilah looked up from her plate.
“To ensure our son does not make any hasty decisions,” Cornelius told her.
