The Witch's Dream - A Love Letter to Paranormal Romance (Black Swan 2) (9 page)

Baka seemed intrigued by the demonstration and watched with interest. "Kay, my friend, do your sisters berserk as well?" Kay stepped in front of the ex-vampire. "Never mind. That was a silly question. Given the right circumstances all women berserk."

Kay advanced with a more threatening tone. "Baka..."

"Alright. Alright. I'm going." Baka looked around like he'd lost something. "Has anybody seen Aelsong?"

Kay, who had turned toward his sister, gritted his teeth and wheeled around like a parent who'd been pushed too far. "Baka! Give. It. A. Rest.
Everybody's
sisters are off limits. Am I making myself clear?"

"Kay," Baka chuckled, "most women are somebody's sister."

Kay took a step forward in an aggressive mannerism that was universally understood as provocation-gone-too-far. The fact that it was out of character for Kay was a little alarming. So, in an unprecedented display of good judgment, Baka set his glass down, held up his hands, and began backing toward the door.

Having witnessed the entire scene without saying a word, Squoozie now hurried out the door after Baka. When she caught up to him, they were still close enough for Kay and Dandie to hear their sister say: "My
baby
brother doesn't speak for me, Baka. I'm sure Aelsong is busy right now. But
I'm
not."

***

CHAPTER
4

On the day of the handfasting, the palace became a blur of activity between deliveries and the hustle and bustle of staff, both permanent and temporary. Katrina and the Norns kidnapped Elora from the breakfast table and insisted that Ram could not see her again until time for the ceremony. Elora was touched that they wanted to fuss over her and help her get ready.

When Song heard about it, she showed up and the suite was alive with feminine laughter and excitement. In mid afternoon she said, "I'm goin' to go check on the groom."

A chorus of voices sounded all at once, the gist of it being, "Don't tell him a thing you've seen or heard!"

Song found her brother in his suite and offered to braid his hair behind his ears. He sat quietly in front of the mirror and enjoyed reminiscences with his favorite sibling, who was quick to assure him that she found Elora Laiken a treasure beyond compare. He tried to pump her for information about what Elora was doing, but Aelsong resolutely kept her pledge of silence. When she was sure that Ram knew exactly how to put on his own costume along with where and when he should report for the ceremony, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and returned to the bride's ready room.

Tepring and Aelsong had spared no expense on the bride's gown. She had chosen white for no reason other than that Ram loved to see her wear white. The dress was raw silk with decolletage that showed the right amount of bosom - not too scandalous, not too prude - and a tight fitting bodice beaded all over with real pearls. There was so much fabric in the skirt that a weaker woman might grow tired carrying it around.

Tepring arrived in late afternoon holding a box wrapped in forest green satin sheen paper with white and gold ribbons woven together then formed into a bow. Elora sat down on the settee to open it saying how much she hated to disturb the perfection of the wrapping. The gift inside was the perfect complement to her dress - a four strand pearl choker necklace - all the more precious because it was a family heirloom, having belonged to Ram's great-grandmother. When Elora started to tear up, there was a sudden rush of group admonition insisting that no tears were allowed once make-up had been applied.

Aelsong then handed Elora a smaller gift in identical wrapping.

"For you from the king. 'Tis somethin' new," Song said quietly.

It was a pair of stud earrings with pearls identical to those in the choker. Each pearl sat on a foundation of emeralds. Song then handed her a bracelet of four strands of pearls. "This one is mine, but it matches the necklace so I insist you wear them together today."

"It's beautiful, Song. Are you sure?"

"Oh, aye." Aelsong's tinkling laugh made the space joyful. Elora gave her a hug. The pearls for the dress, though smaller, had been chosen to match the exact same tone and luster. The result was stunning.

As oldest, Urz took the leadership role. "Trinnie's got one more thing from us." She gestured to indicate the other four women.

Katrina handed her yet another forest green box with gold and white ribbon. Elora looked from one to another with delight and anticipation. She tore off the wrapping with more abandon each time she opened a gift. This box contained a wide blue, raw silk garter with a luxurious excess of ruching, accented with a single pearl centered on a white satin bow.

"Something blue," said Katrina.

Elora had no idea why Katrina thought it important to point out that the garter was blue, but over the past half year, she had gotten pretty good at covering when she didn't understand a cultural reference. Elora thanked each one of them individually, then pulled the garter on and up to the top of her white, thigh high hose while being modestly careful not to reveal that she was getting married without underwear.

Last they placed the traditional partial wreath of holly, tree fern, and fine, diaphanous white silk feathers on her head.

When she was fully dressed and ready to go down, she was such a vision that the other women just stood and stared until she became self-conscious, wondering if the plan had not come together. With her unusual hair and the natural high coloring in her cheeks, they could certainly understand why the groom liked seeing her in white.

"What's wrong?"

Song took her by the hand and smiled. "'Tis so no' wrong. If my brother did no' already believe himself to be a very lucky elf, he will be thinkin' he's died and gone to heaven."

Elora grinned at her. "Song, you are
so
like your brother."

"Well, since 'tis rumored on good authority that you love him, I shall take it high praise."

Elora squeezed her hand. "As you should."

Urz answered a knock at the door. Right on time, the king's mother had sent a herald to fetch the bride.

Song handed her
the
rose. Katrina had stayed with her, sipping white wine while Song and the Norns raided the "floral room". It was usually a large dining room, but was temporarily converted into a hub for arranging and distributing thousands of blooms. They had spent an hour there, first searching and then arguing over which was the single most perfect flower.

Elora had kept back a sprig of holly, which she tied together with the perfect rose using the red ribbon Ram had brought her.

She took a deep breath and looked at the others. "Here we go."

Descending the stairs, they could hear the noise of music and many voices talking at once. The hall, more aptly called a thoroughfare, was deserted except for the royal guard in dress uniform, posted every few feet for security watch although it was a formality. The elfdom was populated by millions of citizens willing to die for the king.

When they reached the ballroom entrance, the music stopped and the crowd grew quiet. With one last encouraging look, the other women went ahead of Elora, leaving her standing alone outside the entrance. She turned and looked at the soldier standing nearest her. His response was the barest hint of a smile and a wink which, oddly enough, calmed her nerves.

The guests had parted to clear the wide strip of forest green carpet that marked a path to the circle in the center of the room where Ram, his family and the people closest to the couple waited with the Old Ways priest who would guide the ceremony. Elora had been instructed by the planners to listen for her musical cue then follow the carpet to the circle where the groom would be waiting.

The processional was the traditional "Star of the County Down" played on wooden flute, tin whistle, fiddle, tiompan, and bodhran. When she heard the prelude, she took a deep breath, winked back at the guard, and walked to the entrance, where she could see the ballroom for the first time. The number of people looking at her expectantly was expected, but still overwhelming. She had never liked lots of attention.

Her gaze flew straight to the end of the carpet where stood an elf who challenged the bride for beauty and, in her opinion, won the contest without a fuss. Nonetheless, there was a collective sound of approval from the throng when she appeared in the doorway at the head of the carpet, a mixture of little gasps and murmured oohs and aahs. The groom had to swallow a lump, as he was thinking: "Exactly right buggers. And ne'er will you again see a creature so beguilin'."

Rammel was wearing the male version of her costume: white raw silk and a vest of tufted velvet with matching pearls in the furrows. His sister had done a masterful job of braiding his hair behind his ears and had pulled the rest into a catch at the nape of his neck. His smile and golden aura were in full bloom.

Ram and Elora held each others' hands with crossed wrists and repeated vows as the priest sealed their joining with the cord they had braided while laughing and talking about the future. Out of the corner of her eye Elora saw both Song and Katrina brush away stray tears. She was aware of where Storm was standing, but resolutely refused to look his way because she wouldn't chance having her wedding day compromised by sadness no matter how much guilt she might secretly hold in her heart.

When the cord was unwound, Rammel surprised her by producing a gold band etched in Celtic knot weaving with a large, oval emerald of the deepest green. And it fit perfectly. She was expecting a chaste kiss, but should have known that her elf would not be shy about public displays of affection. By the time he released her, she was blushing like a Victorian virgin.

It seemed to Elora that they had been standing, greeting guests for hours. When finally she saw the end of the line, she leaned over to whisper in Ram's ear. "Let's sneak away for a few minutes. You know some place nearby with a good lock on the door?"

Ram's body immediately responded to the suggestion underlying her request and he suddenly had a new appreciation for the practical side of codpieces. The light in his eyes signaled his agreement. He rushed the last few people along, grabbed her hand and they dashed for a side door before someone could block their escape. He led her straight to a small and little-used morning room. It was a parlor outfitted in Victorian furnishings both uncomfortable and too formal for modern tastes. It was no wonder it wasn't visited often.

He closed and locked the door while she laughed with the excitement of a schoolgirl cutting class. When he reached for her, she ducked out of the way.

"For the last five hundred people in line I've been thinking about how to do this."

He grinned. "Aye. Well, I would give witness that you do, in fact, know how to do this."

"No. I mean with all these clothes." He watched with interest as she grabbed a chair with no arms from in front of a small writing desk and brought it to the center of the room. "Sit," she commanded. And he did. Gladly.

"Now let's see about freeing you from this thing." She began to fumble with the codpiece.

He laughed and offered assistance, releasing a proud erection, its intense coloring a sharp contrast and graphic invitation as it jutted from the pristine white, silk costume. Looking down, she saw glistening drops of moisture on the head. He hissed in air when she took him in hand lightly and spread the precum with her thumb watching his eyes darken to the navy blue that meant he was ready. She stood his cock at an angle she judged right and directed him to hold it right there while she gathered yards of skirt and straddled her new husband.

Having imagined this moment for the past two hours, brushing up next to Ram while greeting well-wishers, she had no further need of foreplay. She eased down on him, her eyes closing from the sensation, glorying in being filled to the hilt, then she bent forward and covered his mouth with a kiss of pure possession. There in the gloaming light of a seldom used parlor, his hands under the skirt of her vast and costly wedding gown fit for a queen, fondling the bare skin of her hips and upper thighs, he was thinking that, however unlikely, this might be the single most erotic thing that had ever happened to him. He stared up at his singularly beautiful - and commando - bride, transfixed on her face as she moved torturously slowly, massaging the arousal that was now throbbing a tattoo of demand, while she purred, "Ah, Ram, you feel
so
good."

He moved his hand so that his thumb grazed the sensitive pearl of her sex every time she came to rest while, at the same time, he was captivated by the feel of her sex meeting his with his hand. She cried out her release, moving faster and harder until he joined her. They stayed where they were, catching breath, exulting in the pleasure of each other and their new status as officially mated. After a moment he looked down, spied the blue garter, and smiled broadly.

"And what is this?" Ram asked as he hooked two fingers under the elastic.

"Katrina made a point of pointing out that it is blue."

Ram laughed. "'Tis a weddin' tradition for good luck. 'Tis a rhyme as well. The bride wears somethin' old, somethin' new, somethin' borrowed, and somethin' blue."