Shaking Hands, Certain Discovery

ETAN

He sent a prayer of gratitude to the Light that he'd been training with the horses, in the sun, for weeks prior to their travels, getting his body in peak form in case they faced an ambush on the road, or a trap during their time in the enemy Kingdom.

As Ayleth pushed his shirt back and sucked in a breath, she placed both palms flat on his stomach. A jolt, that made Etan's breath catch, and the hair on his arms stand up, slammed through him in the same moment she gasped.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered.

"Yes," he croaked. He felt it all the way to his toes—and it hadn't skipped his groin. If he wasn't careful—

Then she slid her hands slowly up to his ribs, then over his chest, then to his collarbones. Etan groaned and she looked at him, alarmed. He was shaking, he realized.

"Does it hurt when I do that?" she asked quickly.

"Light, no," he murmured.

They were both breathing heavily, his hands clenched to fists, one rested on the back of the bench, the other on his thigh. He looked up from her hands, staring at her through the eyeholes of his mask, his chest rising and falling under her palms. Her eyes locked on his and widened at what she saw there.

"This is what mother meant when she spoke of a… a quickening?" she whispered, her voice awed.

He was about to ask, when she scooted closer and moved her hands again, frowning.

"What is it?" he asked hoarsely. "You look unhappy."

"No!" she whispered. "Not unhappy. But a little… confused."

"What? Ask me. I'll tell you."

She brought her eyes up to lock on his again, that little pucker still between her brows. "Touching you," she said.

"Yes?"

"It makes me want to… move? Or something? It's as if there's something coiled inside me that wishes to be satisfied, but I don't know what will sate it."

Etan closed his eyes and covered his face with one hand, rubbing twice as he talked himself down from showing her exactly what it was that she wanted. "I, uh, I believe…"

"Yes?"

With a shuddering breath, he released the fists he'd held since she asked to touch him, and took her wrists, gently, pulling her hands from his skin, though he grieved the loss of her touch immediately. "I believe what you yearn for is… love. Marriage. Children."

She tipped her head, considering his words, but frowned. "Truly, I do not think you are right. I watch the children in the nursery sometimes. This does not feel like that."

Pressing his lips together to hide the smile, he clasped her hands together, covering them in his own. "What I meant to say was… what your body wants, right now," he cleared his throat, "is to do the things that men and women do in marriage. To create children."

"Oh! You mean mating?" she said, pleased to have found the answer.

Etan coughed to cover a laugh. "Yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it."

"My mother talks about it all the time. And the feelings it gives. The Quickening, she calls it. I didn't understand the fuss. I've watched my mare be mated—plus my father's favorite hunting dog. She never really seemed that pleased by the whole affair." Her face was twisted in frustration. "I am not certain that is—"

"I am, Princess," he rushed in before she could put any more images in his head. "I… I am. But rest assured, it is different between human mates than it is between beasts."

She looked at him again and smiled. "My mother said that too. Oh, good. So, you have done this before? Mother says it's very important to find a man who has done it many times because apparently you all need a great deal of practice before you're good at helping a woman find her Quickening. Mother said Father—"

"You know," Etan said, his voice suddenly too high and little strangled, "I think perhaps we should go to the unmasking. Much as I would love to hear about your parent's, um, thoughts on this, I think it's almost time."

She froze under his hand and he wondered if she had come to suspect what he was now certain of.

He touched her face. "Don't be afraid. We will make it work," he whispered, his thumb stroking her soft cheek.

"I'm not afraid," she murmured back, smiling. "You're my One."

He nodded. "Yes, I am. And I cannot even begin to imagine how, but you are mine, also."

"Isn't it wonderful? I thought this festival was going to be boring and confusing—full of wankers like Roarke. But instead…" she pulled her hands from his grip and cupped his jaw, mask and all. "Instead, I have found the lion to my lamb."

"Perhaps the lion might sheath his claws before the lamb is roasted for lack of virtue?" Borsche's voice was low and hard, and far, far too close.

Etan sprang up from the bench, whirling to face him, putting himself between his man and his… what was she? "How long have you been here?" he snapped.

"Long enough," Borsche snapped back, the bells on his ridiculous hat jingling as he tipped his head toward the maze. "And you will have more visitors in a moment, so I'd suggest you button up your shirt, Highness, and we get moving."

Etan glared, but did as he said quickly.

Ayleth had stood behind him, stepping close so he felt her heat at his side. "You shouldn't let a servant speak to you so," she whispered very quietly. "They become above themselves."

Borsche raised an eyebrow at him, but Etan glared at him to keep his mouth shut. He was grateful she didn't push or say anything to Borsche herself. Instead, she stood behind him, one hand on his back, as if she didn't want to lose the connection they'd had. He was glad. When she wasn't touching him, something felt… empty.

"The unmasking," Etan said, his chest suddenly tight. How could he have gotten so distracted? It must be about to begin.

Borsche nodded. "And she will be missed, even if you aren't. We'll take the shortcut."

"How do you know of the shortcut?" she piped up from behind Etan, pressing forward to face Borsche. "You haven't been to the castle before!"

Borsche made a sweeping bow—he really was a showboat when he wanted to be. "Highness, one of the Kingsmen is in his cups and may have let slip to me, but fear not, I put him to bed, and your secret will remain safe in my hands." He straightened and smiled, but as he turned towards a tree in the corner and opened his hand to let Etan go first, he shot Etan a glare. "We all have to be careful, even in times of peace."

Etan glowered but turned, taking her hand to lead her. But instead, she trotted forward, pulling him. "We'll get there just in time, I think."

"I for one praise the Light of Heaven there wasn't more time," Borsche snarled in Etan's ear as he passed, darting through the dark, somehow blending into the shadows despite his garish clothes.

Etan followed, his stomach sinking in dread. But he did not let her go.

He was never letting her go.