Page 128 of Blood of Ancients

My cheeks burned like the sun. “Um.” I swallowed hard, nodding fiercely. “Y-Yes, thank you, Zentha. I think I’ve got things covered.” Getting some of my confidence back after her flat-out offer to send me male escorts, I winked at her.

Zentha bowed low, hands clasped in front of her again. “The garnish vanity is in the room to the left,maelen.”

“The garnish—what?”

She was already gone, sashaying down the hall.

I watched her go, thinking,Gods, what a wild woman.

Then I made my way inside, sliding the door closed behind us. There was a distinct scent that filled the room, totally different than the manly smell my mates brought inside. It was light, quaint, and filled my head with a buzz when I first stepped in.

Furrowing my brow, I said, “Anyone else smell that? Andfeelthat?”

I didn’t want to blurt it out loud, but the scent and headiness was quickening my blood. My legs felt wobbly, relaxed, and I couldn’t stop from squishing my thighs together to try and stave off some of the heat pooling at the base of my belly.

Corym smiled. “Starberry infusion,lunis’ai.”

“That doesn’t smell like any strawberry I’ve ever smelled.”

He laughed, walking up to me. Towering over me and looking oh-so-delectable in the sudden rush of lustfulness that swept through me. It took everything not to go on my tiptoes and make out with him right there.

“Not strawberry, love,” he said in a low voice. “Starberry. Native to Alfheim, they are . . . mood-setters, when reducted to their essence.” The smoldering of his eyes told me he was feeling the same effects of thestarberries.

“Unholy Hel,” Sven groaned, still shirtless. He pawed at his crotch, walking with an odd, uncomfortable-looking limp as he made his way toward the hot spring. “Setting the mood is right. I could fuck for ten hours in here!”

My head reeled as the sounds of laughter from Sven, Grim, and Magnus filled the room. Arne stayed quiet, almost hesitantto move far from the center of the room. Corym just smiled down at me, then dipped his head and kissed me lightly on the lips.

“I agree with the wolf,” he said in the shell of my ear, earning a sprouting of goosebumps from his honey-smooth voice.

“Gods above,” I breathed, turning away from him before I jumped his bones. “Whatisthis place? You’re sure they aren’t trying to lull us into a false sense of security, Corym?”

He followed me like a hound, down the two-step landing that led to the wider expanse of the hold. “Yes, this is common in Alokana.”

“You didn’t tell me elves were so horny!”

He laughed. Most my other mates had left the main room now, and were chatting in the hot spring room. Arne remained behind.

“Didn’t I?” Corym said, making a thinking face. He tapped his chin. “I must have at least hinted at it.”

“What is a nurturewife?” I asked while sliding across the room to the left. “Zentha said this place was a prime location for ‘nurturewife dalliances.’”

It was spotless and pristine in here, and made me feel dirty even dragging my muddy boots into the hall. I’d never seen a more ornate room in my life, with beautiful tapestries and colorful stained-glass shelves covering the walls.

Corym ran a hand through his glorious hair, scratching his head. “Well, a nurturewife is a woman orin’kylinof childbearing age in Alfheim. Before landing on her mate, or mates, she . . . tests them. The suitor who makes her pregnant becomes her first husband. Then she can decide whether she wants to continuenurturing, as we call it, and have more children. Either with her husband or another.”

My eyes bulged when he casually explained that women here had such control over their love life, their childbearing decisions, and seemingly everything else. “Holy shit,” I said, gawking. “Soeverywoman here gets to live the life I’m living, without shame or ridicule? They don’t have to choose their husbands?”

Corym smiled. “An interesting way to look at it,lunis’ai. You’re mostly correct. However, they don’tchoosetheir husbands, necessarily. The children born choose for them. So there is a slight difference.”

I scratched my cheek, feeling hot and bothered by all this information.No wonder all the men are shirtless or barely clothed here. They’re trying to attract the best nurturewife they can, just like I thought before.

“As to the shame, there is none of that among our people. It is highly encouraged for a woman to have ten, twenty children. Our lifespans are long, and new throngs of whelps are always needed to fill our armies’ ranks.”

It seemed like a barbaric system when he put it like that, and yet a cutting-edge, drastically freeing one on the other hand. I couldn’t make heads or tails of how I thought about “nurturewives,” but given my own situation . . . I was leaning toward supporting it.

It’s about time women are given the keys to the queendom. Excuse me—the nation.

I thought deeper about it. “How does the nurturewife know which child belongs to which man, if she fucked, say, ten of them to get pregnant?”

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