Clans of Luteri Ch. 07-09

"Come, Aslin," he said, standing. "We don't want to miss the beginning of the concert. I have gotten us a seat in the balcony."

#

It was strange when Kane called her Aslin. It still didn't feel like her name. It was more familiar when he called her Corsaire. And he didn't say it now like he used to, like he wanted to spit it out. It was just what he called her sometimes.

As they walked, her hand on his arm, she wondered if anyone would ever call her Emma again, and then she had the thought that she wouldn't mind leaving Emma behind, maybe. She had never been very happy. Moments, maybe, when she was outside, when she was running, when the wind was high and she felt free and strong. But not many of them. Mostly she had been lonely, and sometimes frightened.

Maybe she would like to learn what it was to be Aslin, a woman who went to concerts in Versace, a woman in a beautiful dress, a woman the man beside her wanted to marry. At least he said he did. She looked at the people in the vast space as they climbed the stairs to the balcony, everything here a spectacle. Kane took her hand in the dim lighting of the balcony, helping her to find her seat. As she watched, the stage populated with solemn figures all dressed similarly, carrying their instruments.

"Tonight will be Ludiac. He is my favorite Alverian composer," Kane leaned toward her to say.

"Do they have music in Luteri?"

"Of course. Luteri is known for its music, compositions going out all over the world. Music like this, especially in Thaline, and also, like Alveria, people in the villages play the traditional songs, and there are festivals and traveling musicians who come into the holds and play for their meal."

"Do they have pianos?"

His teeth flashed in the dim light, a smile.

"Yes, Aslin. I promise I will have a piano made for you."

She opened her mouth to speak but there was suddenly the sound of instruments below them, a long drone of different tones, shifting and people finding their places. A man came and stood in front of the musicians, his back to the audience. There was a long anticipatory silence and his arms fell and the music began.

She had never heard music before, besides the piano. She recognized that she had no way to judge, nothing to which to compare it, but to her it was wondrous and grand, full of great swells of emotion and drama. She remembered moments when she shifted, once when she looked around at the audience. But it would capture her again. The music finally stopped. She looked and Kane was watching her, a small smile on his mouth.

"They will rest for a small time and then return," he said, rising."I see that you are enjoying it. I wish we could stay, but it's already late and we have a long journey back tonight."

Her eyes drifted to the stage. She drew in a deep breath, straightening.

"Of course," she murmured, rising from her seat.

"Would you rather stay in the city? We could finish the concert and then take a room."

"No, thank you. It has been very exciting," she said, feeling suddenly tired, the dim lights, the late hour, the emotions the music had brought. "Thank you, Kane, for bringing me."

"You're welcome, Corsaire."

They moved with others down the stairs, a slow progress. Kane indicated a servant should get their driver, their carriage brought around. They had almost made it to the large doors leading to the carriage outside when a voice came.

"Lord Tavishi!"

They both turned. A portly man came toward them, his cane clacking on the marble floor in his haste. He was dressed elegantly, a long gray mustache. She looked at Kane. He didn't make any sign, expressionless, but the hand under her elbow tightened.

"Lord Verain," Kane said, greeting him.

"Lord Tavishi," the man said, a little flushed, a little out of breath. "What a tremendous coincidence. I have some friends who would like to meet you."

The man turned, gesturing high to two other men who began making their way to them through the crowd.

"We cannot stay, Lord Verain. If you'll excuse us," Kane said, beginning to turn her.

"Ah, yes," Lord Verain said, turning to her, his eyes lighting. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

Kane glanced at her for a long moment, his gaze appraising, and then looked back at the lord.

"Of course," Kane said. "Lord Verain, this is my wife, Lady Aslin Tavishi of Luteri."

She turned to Kane, trying not to look as shocked as she felt. His wife?

"I am so charmed, Lady Tavishi," the man exclaimed in delight, his eyes eager, fumbling for her hand and bowing over it. "I had no idea your wife had traveled with you from Luteri, Lord Tavishi! Why have I not met her before?"

"As I have said, we are just leaving. It's late and my wife is tired, Lord Verain," Kane said, his voice edging toward coldness. "If you will excuse us."

This time Kane's hold under her elbow was tighter as he turned them quickly.

"Wait, Lord Tavishi—," the man began, looking back toward his companions, who were just arriving.

She turned to look, seeing the three men gazing after her curiously, talking amongst themselves. Kane guided her into the carriage that was brought for them. She could barely get in she was shaking so hard, and she sat, tense, waiting for him.

As soon as the door was closed she turned to Kane, outraged, feeling her cheeks go hot.

"You have introduced me as your wife, Lord Tavishi! What do you mean by it?"

He looked at her and slowly smiled, his eyes roaming her face.

"Kane," he reminded her. "I mean to marry you, Corsaire. Have I said you are beautiful when you are angry? It is your Corsaire fire. Jaime said you would enjoy flattery."

She made a sound she didn't even recognize, furious.

"Then you must find me very compelling as angry as you make me!" she shot back. "You cannot just—. That man will tell everyone, Kane!"

She felt close to tears it was so upsetting what he had done. She whirled to face him as he came and sat beside her, leaning in, bringing the back of his fingers to her cheek. She was breathing too fast, her face

hot. She hated it that she blushed.

"Hai, hai, Aslin," he spoke to her gently.

She jerked her face away from his fingers and glared at him.

"I am not your horse, do not say that to me!" she cried. "You cannot just tell people that we are married when we are not."

He sat back against the seat, his arm behind her, looked at her steadily. She finally looked out the window, the landscape dark. There wasn't anything to see.

"Did you like the music?" he asked her after a time.

She immediately turned to him, glaring. He said that as if nothing had happened. She sniffed, looking back out the window.

#

It was a long drive, the Corsaire's eyes getting heavier every moment. She fought it, straightening, but she would droop, and she finally closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. Kane drew closer to her quietly. He had known she would fall asleep and already had his arm behind her, shifting her, turning her into him. She found a place and put her hand on his chest and he rested his mouth on her hair, breathing her in.

His oath was sleepy, mumbling warmth when they arrived, blinking in the hall. He left her at her door. He went to his room, undressing and laying on the bed on his back, his hands behind his head, thinking how much he wanted the Corsaire in so many ways, but a thing he missed was her breathing beside him.

Strange. If any man had accused him a year ago of longing for the company of a Corsaire, Kane would have laughed and then stabbed him.

#

Three weeks later, Kane strode through the field, dew on his boots, the edge of his cloak. It was early morning. Usually he would bring the Corsaire with him, but this morning he wanted to think. He was enjoying courting her, enjoying it more than he thought he would. He liked the person who was revealed to him outside of the context of Lutari and the feud.

But Alverian courtship was so slow. He had been at it for almost twenty-two days. He had taken her everywhere. He was becoming impatient, and she hadn't given him her answer, one way or another. He'd waited, but she didn't speak of it. And beyond the fact that the ship was coming in a little over a month to bring them back to Luteri, Aslin was his oath and he belonged in her bed. And she was Luterian,

regardless of how she had been raised, whatever Jaime said. Her instincts were Luterian, her responses.

He could tell how she felt about him. He could smell it on her every time he got near her, the wanting come off her body like a perfume, driving him insane. Not touching her, constantly with her. It couldn't be healthy. He was done waiting

It might be an Alverian ceremony, but he would court her like a Luterian, he decided. He would stop if she told him to, but he thought he could persuade her. The Corsaire was all about persuasion.

#

Aslin walked to her window and watched Kane return from his walk, his long strides. He hadn't invited her with him this morning, although she'd gotten used to getting up at this time. She wondered what he was thinking about out there.

She frowned at his form, annoyed. He was constantly in her thoughts. It didn't help that he was so intent on her, that his sole purpose seemed to be to draw her to him. He courted her relentlessly, taking her everywhere. She didn't know how to indicate to him she wouldn't mind if he kissed her again, just a little.

He still talked about wanting to marry her, said that he desired her. He made no secret of it. But he had never actually proposed to her, never asked her to marry him.

And she had to admit she was drawn to him. He was intelligent and he talked to her and he made her laugh when he wasn't making her angry. And she couldn't deny how she felt when he came near her, which he did all the time, as if he'd decided that he would get as close as possible without actually touching her. She thought about him a great deal. Her body knew where he was all the time. She didn't even know what she would say if he did ask her.

Both he and Jaime acted like she would go to Luteri with Kane instead of staying here. Kane had said he had already arranged her passage. It did seem silly and presumptuous to force her relatives to send a ship just to retrieve her when she could simply go back on a ship already going there. She was drawn to Luteri, to the idea of relatives who would want her, no matter how foreign or strange, to a place she could belong.

But as his wife? Did Kane believe his relatives, his clan, would accept her, that he could persuade them? She was Corsaire clan, and if there was one thing Kane had taught her it was that Tavishi didn't like Corsaire, not even a little. Kane had gone from hateful to friendly but distant to actively courting her. He acted as if they would change their minds as well. But she didn't see how that was likely.

Even if she wanted to agree, maybe it would be better if she went to Corsaire clan first, just until they knew how Tavishi clan would react to her.

And she couldn't understand why he wanted to marry her in Alveria. He wasn't Alverian, he wasn't. Surely Luterians had their own ceremony? Would they even honor it there?

She would tell him no, she decided, or at least that she would like to wait for them to marry if he still wanted to do so.

He glanced up as he came to the steps leading to the front door, looking right at her. He grinned at her that way he did, going straight through her. She smiled back, her hand going to the window.

#

"I like your room, Corsaire."

Aslin sat straight up, looking around the dim room, her heart pounding.

"Kane?"

She located him in the chair in front of her vanity. He had lit a small lamp there, low.

"I think you get the morning light better. I should have had Jaime move me here instead," he continued.

She looked at the window. Moonlight. It wasn't morning.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, confused.

"Do you still wear your undergarments to bed, Corsaire?"

Her mouth fell open.

"I wear a proper gown, Kane," she said indignantly. "It's not your business. Why are you here?"

He snorted a laugh.

"Alverian women wear a long dress to bed even? Do you wear undergarments under that as well?"

"Of course not!" she cried. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Don't you get hot in the night?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter."

She looked around, finding her short shawl wrap and pulling it around her shoulders.

"Are you putting on more clothes?" he said.

"What do Luterians wear to bed?" she threw at him, doing up the two front buttons.

He smiled lazily.

"You've already seen it, Corsaire."

She sputtered.

"You mean all the time?"

"Of course. Wasn't that obvious?"

She glared.

"I thought you were just tormenting me."

He stared at her and then burst into laughter.

"I was not, no," he said when he could. "Why would anyone wear clothing to bed ever, especially a gown? Doesn't it itch your skin and ride up all the way when you move around in your sleep so you're practically naked anyway?"

She blinked.

"See?" he said slyly. "I have a point, don't I?"

"What are you doing in my room?" she accused. "It's the middle of the night. Can you not sleep?"

"I want to make a proposition."

She stared at him and flushed. Had he gotten the word wrong?

"In regard to our marriage," he continued. "I've thought that maybe I could move things along."

"I don't understand you right now," she said crossly.

He laughed and got up from the chair, walking toward the bed and looming over her. She looked up at him, his face, his eyes very green right now.

"Then I'll just make my proposition. I'm going to do something, Corsaire. It's something I want to do but I need your permission and I don't want to wait anymore."

He put one knee on the bed beside her as she straightened where she sat, pulling the covers up in front of her, eyeing him.

"But you can stop me anytime," he continued, "by saying no to the question or saying yes to the question. Either way, if your answer is yes, or if your answer is no, I'll leave you and walk straight out the door the moment you answer."

He put his hand down on the bed and leaned in so their faces were close. She couldn't move.

"But if you don't answer at all, I'm going to continue doing it for as long as I like," he finished.

His eyes dropped to her mouth.

"What's the question?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"Will you marry me, Aslin?"

Her heart began to pound. Her eyes dropped.

He kissed her. It was a shock of sensation, in her bed, after he hadn't been that way with her for so long. He did it like he always had, parting her lips, sensual. He broke it and drew back, looking at her. She knew her face was flushed.

"You'll have a few moments to think about your answer, because it will take me time to get through these clothes," he told her, his fingers going to the buttons.

Hers met them, pushing them away. To her surprise, he didn't proceed, drawing his hands away, grinning.

"You're making things more difficult for me, Corsaire," he said.

He went to the bottom of the bed and put his hands and then his arms under the covers, finding her ankle.

"What are you—?" she said as his hand circled it.

She kicked at him with the free one as he grasped it. She tried to push his hand off with her other foot but he captured her other ankle and now he had both. She struggled and he pulled hard. She collapsed onto the bed onto her back, sliding, her hair behind her.

"Kane!" she protested, trying to scramble up on her elbows but he came to the top and wrenched the covers off her.

She grasped them at the last moment but he pulled relentlessly, grinning at her. He was too strong. With a huff she released them and he dropped them to the floor.

"Well, there's half the battle, as Alverians say," Kane said, looking down at her. "You really don't wear undergarments under it."

She followed his gaze. Her nightdress had twisted and ridden up to her thighs, almost to her hip on one side. He sat down beside her, his eyes on her legs.

"What about your clan?" she said desperately, pulling down her gown.

"What about them?" he said, his large hand landing on her knee and moving upward.

She pushed at it and it withdrew, landing on her waist.

"What makes you think they'll accept me?"

He looked untroubled, his hands returning to the shawl, unbuttoning.

"Because we are Luterian and you will be the one to whom I have given my oath. They will accept you because you are my wife," he said, opening it.

"Because I would be your wife," she corrected him.

"That too," he said.

His fingers went to the buttons of her nightdress now.

"How will they not hate me as much as you did, Kane?" she asked shakily.

He pushed the cloth aside, her breast exposed. His eyes flickered with something like pain as he touched the sensitive underside, his fingers trailing.

"That's what you thought?" he asked her. "That I would bring you where others would hate you? I have said otherwise, I have told you. You will not seem like an enemy to them, Aslin, when you are my oath. Luterians just see it that way. I think you'll like them. Well, not all of them, because some of them are unlikable, but many of them, I think."

She was staring at him, her heart pounding, his hands moving to uncover her other breast, her nipples rising to a hard jutting points in the cool air, his eyes on them. His fingers were circling the tip, his eyes on her. He touched her nipple. Sensation shot through her.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'll swear it to you, Corsaire, if you like. I wouldn't deceive you about something like that. You know you can trust my word."

"That's not necessary, I believe you," she said quickly.

"That's good," he said, bringing his other hand up and cupping both her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples more roughly, then squeezing. She arched a little, her breath catching over and over.

"What else do you worry about that stops you from giving me your answer?" he said.

"Why do you want to marry me in Alveria? Don't Luterians have a ceremony?"

The feeling in her nipples were going straight between her legs, the sex-feelings he gave her.

"I can see how that might trouble you. Yes, Luterians have a ceremony. Jaime thought you'd feel better about being married to me if it were one you were familiar with."

He leaned down and licked her nipple, drawing it into his mouth. It felt so good. Her knees came up a little and now his hand was on her leg, moving up her inner thigh. He leaned over and did the same with her other nipple and she made a helpless sound. His fingers moved between her legs and stroked, her legs parting a little without her willing it.

He pushed deeper into her sex with his fingers. Her hips were squirming. He leaned down to her ear.

"You're getting wet, Corsaire."

He stood up and leaned over her, sliding his two hands up her calves and over her knees and to her hips and then her waist, pushing straight up fast, the gown and everything else going with them. She suddenly couldn't see, cloth over her face, more cloth, and then she was free. He was tugging hard, her arms over her head, her hair catching and then dragging through it.

The air was cool on her naked body as he dropped the gown and cover on the floor, her hands crossing to cover her breasts, her legs tightly together. He sat again and put his hand on her belly, her nipples so hard under her palms they hurt. His hands went to her wrists, and then to her hands, gently, pulling them away from her, pinning them to the bed. His eyes roamed all over her. She squirmed, her knees up.

"You are beautiful."

He kissed her and then his mouth went to her nipples and she was lost, her hips squirming. He moved, getting on the bed, on his knees between her legs, spreading them, propping himself over her, his hand going down to her sex, his fingers doing things. He looked into her eyes and pressed a finger into her sex, pushing slowly. She met him, unable to stop. He drew back and pushed in again. It felt very good.