Page 75 of Jailer to the Death God
I vow to forsake every heart but yours, and seek solace with you alone.
I dedicate myself to your joy, your hope, and your service.
My heart shall be thrall to your love.
I am myself, and you are yourself. Yet I will weave my life with yours, and the two of us shall be stronger, until the day betrayal or death may divide us.
What is woven shall not be cut, and what is entangled shall not be severed.
Yours infinitely, yours devotedly. Yours in passion and pain, in beauty and blood, in age and agony.
By the goddess I swear it, and by my blood I bind it.
The High Priestess pricks both our fingers with the same knife. The Queen and I press our fingertips together, the blood mingling slick between us. When the High Priestess presents the certificate of union, we mark it with dabs of blood. Then we place our bloodied fingers between our lips and lick them clean.
The High Priestess rolls up the document and passes it to an attendant, who wraps the scroll with a gold ribbon and hands it to Farley. He places it immediately into a leather case, which will accompany us on our journey back to the city tomorrow.
The priests and priestesses begin a musical chant, soft and seductive, while the High Priestess twines two slim gold ribbons around my left hand and Vale’s. She weaves an intricate pattern around our wrists and between our fingers, connecting us tightly. The warmth of Vale’s palm against my own sends a tingle of desire up my arm, down my spine, into my rebellious cock, which hasn’t yet gotten the message about not fucking the Queen again.
The knots the High Priestess designed appear inextricable. Yet somehow, when we’re given the signal to step back, the two gold ribbons separate easily. We are no longer joined, yet each of us still bears a neatly knotted design of ribbon woven around our left hands.
“Before the goddess Beirgid and all the pantheon, I pronounce you truly wed,” announces the High Priestess. “May I present her Majesty, Queen Vale of Cerato, and the Royal Consort, Vaughn of Terelaus. This union is hereby legal and binding, witnessed by all present. The wedded pair have decided to forgo the public rite of copulation, and instead there will be dancing and drinks in the Winter Nave, down the hall.” She gestures to an archway, the long sleeve of her crimson gown brushing the gold-and-white marble floor.
I notice the omission of food from her statement. Another sign of the deprivation this kingdom suffers. Eventually even the liquor stores will run out, since the fruit and grain used to make them is no longer available.
The Queen and I stand on the dais, waiting for the High Priestess and the witnesses to proceed through the arch to the reception. In her scanty red gown, the bones of Vale’s shoulders and upper chest are even more prominent. Her eyes are star-bright, but her cheeks look more pinched than usual. She’s staring at the gold ribbon crisscrossing her left hand.
I lean toward her. “Have you eaten anything since this morning?”
“I was busy.”
“That’s no excuse.” I straighten, catching the eye of a naked golden priestess who is just about to descend from the dais. “The Queen needs food.”
The priestess bows to me, her ample breasts swinging. I can’t help noticing their fullness, and the long points of her nipples. “As my lord wishes. I will have one of the attendants prepare something for her. And you, my lord?” She blinks her lashes at me, with a small smile. “Do you need anything? You’ve been busy helping the sick, so you haven’t had time to perform the Rite of Purging. I would be happy to offer myself for that purpose, to purge your loins so you may have plenty of stamina for your lady tonight.”
Drawing back, I frown, scarcely understanding what she means.
“That would be most kind,” Vale interrupts. “And my Royal Consort accepts your generous offer. He will avail himself of your services shortly. Thank you.”
The priestess licks her lips, bows again, and hurries away.
“What in the Furnace was that?” I mutter to Vale.
“The answer to your problem,” she says quietly. “You can take pleasure with one of the priestesses here in the temple, and as long as you say a prayer to the goddess, it won’t be considered unfaithfulness. Beirgid’s priests and priestesses are open for use by anyone, and there are all sorts of rituals you can use as an excuse to fuck one of them. The rite she mentioned is meant to soften the edge of a man’s need, so he can last longer when he takes his new wife on the wedding night.”
“So I would fuckher,” I nod to the round golden ass of the priestess as she disappears through the archway. “And no one would have cause to complain that I was being unfaithful to you?”
“None at all.” She’s smiling brightly, almost fiercely. “I know your chains are paining you. And since you don’t want me, you should take her. Relieve your agony. You have my blessing.”
I stare at the little Queen. She’s biting the inside of her cheek again; I can see her gnawing the flesh even as she holds my gaze.
“So the vows we spoke to each other mean nothing?” My voice is low, terse. We’re alone on the dais, but her guards and Farley linger nearby, ready to escort us to the reception.
This close, I can smell her perfume—a rich, cloying, floral aroma, something they sprayed generously on her pale skin when they were preparing her for the ceremony. It’s pleasing, but more tempting still is the scent beneath it—her delicate natural fragrance.
The red lace flutters against the curve of her breast with each quick inhale. I yearn to trail my palm down the valley of her exposed skin, slip my fingertips beneath that lace and tease her small nipple, or dive beneath the point of the V and discover if she’s wearing anything beneath the dress.
Impulsively I shift nearer, and her breath quickens.
