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Corvan
I stand in the pavilion, staring out at the crystalline waters of the pond. The garden around us has been transformed into something utterly astonishing—a paradise made of blooms and lush plants and verdant trees. A swarm of blue-winged butterflies drifts upwards on a swirling breeze. The sun is high in the sky, bathing everything in pure brilliance.
The shade of the pavilion protects me. It’s been a day and a half since I’ve seen Finley, and thirst is creeping up on me again, but I pay it no heed. There will be plenty of time for that later. I’ve given her ample time to rest and prepare and ready herself for this moment, and the anticipation is killing me.
Anticipation makes everything sweeter.
It makes my once-cold heart beat again, and sets my senses on fire.
Even before she appears, I catch her intoxicating scent.
It’s sweetness and musk; fire and earth, sacred magic andlifeitself.
Immediately, my attention turns toward the path, which is surrounded by wild blooming hedges.
Our small party of guests stands to one side, in a clearing at the edge of the pond.
I glance at them.
Kaithar—resplendent in his maroon velvet suit—winks back.
Hecoa looks down upon us from her vantage point in Aralya’s tree, and it’s almost as if I can feel her benevolent presence.
Before me stands an Eresian priest, officiating over the ceremony. He wears simple white robes embroidered with an intricate motif of silver vines.
As for myself, I’m wearing a suit of deep grey over a white silk shirt. My accents are dark blue and silver—tie, cufflinks, subtle embroidered details.
Finley and I are similar in that sense. We appreciate the goodness of simple things.
My once-still heart beats faster. My thirst intensifies. I can’t help the sudden feeling of arousal that seeps into my chest and pools lower; in my belly, one step away from becoming full-blown arousal.
She has this effect on me, each and every time.
I wait.
Time slows to a trickle.
The anticipation of it all is almost unbearable.
My nostrils flare.
Her scent invades my consciousness, and all of a sudden, she’s there, walking down the path, bathed in glorious sunlight.
She wears an elegant blue gown of fluid silk that matches the colour of the sky and hugs her glorious curves. The jewels I gave her—the Pervashan rubies—dangle from her ears, the only ornamentation she wears.
Her feet are bare.
A crown of white blooms graces her long, unbound hair.
Alongside her, hand in hand, walks her mother, Aralya; proud, regal, and unmistakablydryad.
My mind goes completely blank. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t utter a single word right now. I’m just floored by Finley’s beauty.
She’s perfect, and she’s mine.
As they reach the bridge, Aralya lets go of her hand and waits. Finley makes her way toward me, a coy smile dancing across her lips.
My chest feels like it’s about to explode. Pride, love, desire.
