*Content Warning: Sexual Content*
We proceed at a steady pace to Fateir. Valerie speaks in depth about the drastic changes since joining the Choosing Ceremony. She had instructors to teach her to dance and how to use which stupidly tiny fork for what. Then there was the shopping; dresses and jewels, more than she could ever imagine. I don’t know how she keeps talking. Shouldn’t her mouth hurt by now?
Maven listens quietly, eyes closed as if he’s dreaming, but every once in a while, his eyes open and drift between us. I feel as if he’s picking apart every word. Maybe Valerie does too because, even with all her talking, the atmosphere is tense. One wrong move and the illusion of comfort will shatter. Regardless, Valerie speaking with me rather than him is a good sign, exactly what I had hoped, until a rough jolt of the cart causes the curtains to move. Sun filters in through the window, captured within Maven’s ebony wings. They shimmer in the light. Valerie’s gaze drifts and her words slow.
“You’re staring.” Maven’s grin grows when Valerie blushes.
“Uh, I’m sorry.” She peeks at me. I don’t know what she expects me to do. She was the one caught staring at his wings.
“You can,” he states, confusing the both of us. “Touch them. I know the look.” His attention strays to me. “Aster had that same expression when she entered.”
Shit, he caught that?
His wings loom closer to us until they block the light of the window. Only dim rays filter in above, illuminating the ceiling. Valerie reaches out first, testing the texture with a tap of her finger. Smiling, she pats the feathers, looking at me with wide eyes.
“They’re softer than silk,” she whispers and, I swear, she almost rubs her face on them but contains herself.
I’d be lying if I said my interest wasn’t piqued. Hesitantly, I pinch a feather between my fingers. As Valerie claimed, they’re unbelievably soft. Maven veers away, his wings returning to their previous position. The carriage brightens, practically blinding me.
“Is it ok if I ask about them?” Valerie points to his wings. He nods. “How are they so soft? Do you have to clean them regularly? Oh, do you brush them?! And how do you sleep? On your stomach?”
Those are her questions? What sort of innocence is this? I almost feel bad that my first question is; how does he have sex? Do the wings react when he finishes, spasming like a chicken with their head cut off?
I snort, keeping back my giggles. Maven raises a brow. I avert my gaze, fearful that he can somehow hear my thoughts that only get worse. With those horns, say he goes down on someone, wouldn’t there be some accidental tearing involved? Would someone always have to be on top? These are the important questions, in my opinion.
“Perhaps one with wings such as mine would hang upside down from trees, like a bat,” he jokes, earning a giggle from Valerie. I let myself laugh too, although it has more to do with my own thoughts.
“I don’t sleep well on my back. My side and stomach are more comfortable,” he continues.
The tension dissipates with Valerie’s sudden interest in Maven. She speaks animatedly to him and he answers until the conversation flows like a current. Now I’m the one sitting quietly beside Valerie until the sun sets. Our convoy veers off the road, along the edge of an open field. Valerie and Maven remain in the carriage while everyone else sets up camp. My attention alternates between work and the carriage, scarcely making out their silhouettes within. They’re still speaking, based on Valerie’s exaggerated hand movements.
This isn’t good. If she gets too comfortable with him, we’ll be heading on the path to destruction. I have to sabotage their time together without making it glaringly obvious. What is the best way to do that?
Once we set up camp, Valerie and Maven head into his tent to have dinner. I’m only sent in with the others to set up the table for their meals. They sit together over a nice candlelit dinner, which only coaxes Valerie to open up more. Guess she’s a sucker for good food and candlelight. Even Maven speaks calmly, but there’s no telling if he’s doing that because of the deal or he’s legitimately engaged.
As I stand outside the tent, eyes scanning the campsite for anything to wreak havoc, Maven calls for a refill on drinks. I’m carrying the container so I don’t have to run off and get it. When I enter the tent, I come to a solution; I’ve got to be a bit of a klutz.
They’ve mostly eaten their dinner, so I don’t feel as bad with my plan. After pouring Maven’s drink, I walk towards Valerie. I knock against the table that rattles, feigning my foot catching on something. With a squeak, I stagger forward, preparing myself to hit the ground. Valerie’s startled shout follows as I “accidentally” throw wine on her.
The container falls, but I don’t. An arm wraps around my waist, holding me upright. I look down, scanning said arm like I do not know who it belongs to. Swallowing hard, hoping that someone else miraculously appeared, I peek over my shoulder. Maven looms over me. His grip has me cradled against his chest, his violet eyes wide, bright, and overwhelming. But what about them is overwhelming? The memories that I have to keep, the guilt of surviving, or something more?
“Uh, I’m sorry,” I whisper softer than I mean to. He releases me when I shove his chest, now standing rigidly beside me. Valerie rises, the entire front of her soaked. “Valerie, I didn’t mean to. I tripped and—”
“It’s alright,” she laughs. “I’m about ready for a bath, anyway! Is your foot ok? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything, did you?”
“I’m fine, thanks to Maven.” I offer him a bow. “Thanks for catching me.”
He’s quiet, eyes dark for a long moment, before he smiles. “It’s not a problem. Ask a guard to escort you both to the creek nearby to wash up.”
I shuffle over to Valerie, patting her back apologetically. She offers a smile, then directs her attention to Maven. “Goodnight, Maven. Dinner was lovely!”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Sleep well.”
I glance back before we exit, catching Maven’s dark gaze. He turns his back to me.
Comments (23)
See all