Page 69 of Thief of Roses
“No, Baró.Man, woman, other, it matters not.For those that are Rivani, living together so long, caring for each other, what we do...”She shrugged.“That is considered a marriage, whether the formal ceremony happens or not.You were not raised Rivani though.We would need a ceremony.”She leaned over and kissed him, shifting to move against him to cuddle at his side.“And you have not pledged for me.Although you have given all the indications and tokens of a Rivan courtship, and though we connect so deeply, I cannot say yes to a question that has never been asked, can I?”
“I cannot ask.”
“Because?”Did it have to do with those things he could not speak of or because of his own anxieties?
He stared at her like she was daft.
She stared back at him, all innocence, awaiting an answer.
“Do you think nothing of the madness in which we live?”
“All life is mad in different ways.”She pushed the issue.“Why can you not pledge?”
He threw his hands up and growled.“Even if you were so inclined to take me as husband in spite of,” he again struggled for a word, “what I am, you will be leaving soon.I would not saddle you with a husband knowing that I could not follow.I would see that you are free to love and perhaps marry again without feeling disloyal to one you left behind.”He bent his head down and kissed the top of her head.“If it is words or promises you need, then be assured that I would have and will want no other.I am yours,” he repeated.“I belong to you and will always do so.”
“That is fair,” she agreed.She did not question his devotion.“But were I to stay, though I cannot, or,” she posed, “you could come with me, though I know that you cannot, would you want to marry me?”
“Were I a man.”
“Not the question, Baró.Even the gods marry.”She kissed his shoulder.“Man, god, monster, whatever you like, would you want to marry me were we to stay together somehow — yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“I knew you would preserve my honor like a gentleman,” she teased.She picked at his fur, dancing around his wounds with her fingers.“Baró, it’s spring, cold still, but spring.Will you still celebrate Narrapaug Seip with me?I have no greater desire than to dance with my Rivan god at least once in my life.”
“Mooste pleased am Y that Y mayest satysfie thy desyres,”he recited from their early acquaintance.
In reward, she bestowed upon him a kiss that made all words unnecessary.
XXVIII.
“Iam guessing at thedate,” she admitted as they set up for the bonfire, “but the stars look to be at the right position and it falls on the full moon this year.”
When Rivani asked his opinion on where to hold the spring rite, Baró volunteered a space he confessed to being a personal space, the centerpiece an odd tree.When he guided her there the first time, she threw herself upon the tree and informed him that such trees, thong trees, were ancient Rivan signposts for magic and abundant foraging, hunting, and fresh water.She told him it was a sign of his blood ties that he gravitated to the area.She pronounced it perfect.Enough spirits and the ancestors would attend to recognize their rite at a place already deemed important by the Rivani.
Baró volunteered to dig the bonfire pit although he disliked such tasks, recalling how much he had grumbled while digging the foundation for their smokehouse.She set to the task of gathering enough materials to keep their fire burning the night and constructed a veritable mountain of branches, twigs, dried leaves, and other forest debris by the time Baró finished his labors.
