Page 36 of The Bone King and the Starling

She returns my grin with a tentative, hopeful one of her own. “I’ve never had much reason to believe in the gods. They’ve never given me much — a terrible father and a terrified mother — and the little that I was given was always later taken away.”

I inhale rage, and exhale brighter rage. Easy. “Is that what you fear? That what might be offered will later be stripped from you?”

“Not wholly, but a little. I think…my greater fear…is disappointment. I am no great warrior, no great beauty. You will tire of me in days, or weeks, or even years. Even Olec is known to bed the thralls and the farm girls and he loves Rosalind…”

“Shh,” I say. I return to the bed, ignoring thoughts of her father, of Olec, of the males and females who’ve wronged or disappointed her, made her feel unworthy of me. I take her hands in mine and I offer her a simple vow, one I should have offered her before Ghabari had I the strength to do things properly.

“As I’ve told you, I am a believer in the gods. And I fear Raya as I do Ghabari. When I say I marry once, I mean that in all ways. Our binding, should you accept, will be the only one I’ll ever have. And I do not fear disappointment. Because you are a warrior, I have seen it.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear. Watch her face turn up to mine. Her eyelids flutter at my small touches, like she’s never been touched with any degree of kindness before in her life. “And you do not understand beauty if you do not see it in your own face,” I whisper. “I had not seen you yet when I decided to help you with Tori two nights ago, but when the moon shone on you in the square, I knew I had never seen anything so lovely. Do not deface or demean that which I hold in so high regard.”

“You speak too kindly to me. It would be easier to accept your offer if you were mean.”

I chuckle and press my lips to her forehead. “It will not be easy. We will need to learn each other. But I can tell you already I like all that I’ve seen.”

She looks up at me, such hope, such shaky, tenuous hope in her eyes, and says, “As do I. I think…I think I could make you a fine wife. At least, I will try.”

Her words are aloe against the bright burn across my chest. My heart swells. I feel the magic of the moment coalesce around us. I kiss her lips tenderly, then roughly twice more. Wrenching back, I clear my throat and try to speak through the glass that has embedded itself in my throat. “You do not need to try. Come as you are.”

She grins so wide, it hurts me in my bones. I know in this moment, I would do anything for this female, anything to guarantee her smiles. I drop my hand to her throat. “I am making some changes here in Winterbren. You have helped navigate me and I need to communicate some of these new thoughts you’ve given me to the others. I will be back for dinner. We will dine privately tonight and you will rest in the meantime, join me for the games tomorrow and sit beside me, as my wife. My queen. For the rest of our lives.”

“Y-yes, Calai.”

I fight to not say the words, fearful of scaring her again with my intensity, but the words still ring in my mind as I exit her chambers and return to the bedlam of the hall. I love you, Starling.

THE KING OF BONES

The king of bones is tremendously sweet. I giggle as he finishes removing his leather armor and flings it against the chests in the corner. “Fuck! Finally, I can be with my wife. At peace, in our room.” He crawls over the foot of the bed to completely cover me on all fours. He kisses me.

It’s dinnertime and he’s come with a small feast to dine privately with me as he promised. And as he vowed, he doesn’t touch me once all night. He kisses me passionately and offers me scandalously titillating touches any chance he gets, but he never moves to strip off my clothing and mount me, even though…the slickness between my thighs wishes he would.

My back still stings and I’m grateful when the healer returns with more milk of the poppy and salve. The king insists on applying it himself and actually obeys the shrewd, blonde healer when she instructs him on how to handle me properly.

“It’s healing well. The minor scratches should be better by tomorrow, the rest by next week. It’ll be important we keep you dry and warm on the road — you will be joining us, won’t you, my lady?” Hilde asks me.

I know I’m blushing as I nod. “I will.”

The king beams. Hilde just grunts and nods. “You will enjoy the road. It is beautiful this time of year. The leaves of the forest of Dorn are changing,” she says, speaking of the lush forests known to surround Ithanuir’s northern border. “And you will enjoy Ithanuir, I’m sure of it. It has something to offer everyone.”

I nod, smiling and feeling so light as Hilde finally leaves and the king turns to me, eats with me, converses with me all through the evening and well into the night. He speaks to me of his mother, strong woman that she is, and his fallen father. He tells me a little about what it was like to become king at such a young age and, before that, how hard it had been to live in exile. How he owes his mother so much and, interestingly, how he sees some strengths in me that he believes she will admire.

And in turn, I tell him a little of my sordid history… My abusive father, my cowed mother… How the village did nothing to help her, short of Ebanora’s mother who occasionally helped heal her wounds for free, as she now does for me. The king asks me about Ebanora and her family, her brother in particular. I tell him that he’s a farmer, but has been pushed to enter the games though he would rather not. I tell him about the other villagers, warriors and anyone he seems curious about, until my voice gives out.

He’s so curious about everything, everyone. It surprises me. He’s king. I would have thought that our mundane little lives would be beneath him, and yet, he asks me about things that even I find trivial. How far the walk is from the silos where we store grain, why the kitchens are set so far off from the hall, how often we have out-of-town visitors and how they’re treated, where they come from…why so few move to Winterbren and why so few born here leave. He seems to value my opinions on so many things…

I’m satisfied, a little tipsy on wine, and smiling as he blows out the torchlights and slides beneath the sheets and into the bed beside me. I sleep on my belly now that Hilde has removed some of my bandages to let the shallower wounds air. I keep my face turned towards the king and fall asleep to the feel of his hand tracing patterns across my hair.

Waking is just as pleasant.

I wake before the king and see that his eyes are still closed and his lips are parted in sleep. He has no lines in his forehead, but his beard is disheveled and his hair is in knots. It makes me giggle.

“I’m not sure whether to be pleased or offended that I’ve woken to the sound of my wife laughing at me,” he grumbles, which only makes me laugh harder.

Getting out of bed, I procure a basin, oils, water and a comb. He has several. One of them is made of bone and perfect for detangling the kinds of knots I often get in my thick, tightly coiled hair. It looks newly made and I feel a tightening in my chest at the sight of it, knowing that, among all the other things he has to do, he prioritized this.

I use the finer comb now and apply oils to his beard before combing it out while he continues to lie on his back. He smiles as I work and sits up when I get to work on his long hair. I unbraid it, comb and oil it, then apply a few braids in a Winterbren fashion. They sit tight to his scalp on the sides and fall behind his ears. I add a few larger braids to keep the rest of his hair from falling over his forehead, still allowing for the length while not using half so many ties as he had the first time.

“Shall I braid yours?” he asks me when I’ve finished and I’m shocked enough that I agree. “I used to braid my mother’s hair when it was just the two of us, and I still braid my own. Though, you are much better at it. I could get used to the feeling of your fingers on my scalp daily.”

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