“They were born of the same mare at the same time. Rare and dangerous,” he told me. “Usually, if a mare produces twins, one or both of the foals or the mare will perish during birth. If a foal was to survive, it would be small and sickly and not last long. Unusually, Torment and Anguish both were strong healthy foals, if still small.” He reached to his glass and took a sip, finishing his story as he put the glass back to the table. “However, they killed their mother at birth.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“She was Ilsa’s. They were born within a week of her dying.”
Shit.
Well, there you go. The reason for their names.
I decided not to reply.
“Surprisingly,” he carried on. “They grew healthy and strong. A miracle. One built on tragedy but one nonetheless.”
“Yes, a miracle,” I murmured, reaching for my own wineglass and looking away when I took a sip.
“We must speak of them.”
At his words, I looked back to him, not understanding. “Sorry?”
“They existed. We can’t pretend they did not. Burying memories, treasured or detested, is unhealthy,” he explained.
He was talking of Ilsa and Pol and he was doing it matter-of-factly.
He was also right, of course.
I still wasn’t fired up to share about Pol during our kind of first date.
Apollo leaned into me and he said softly, “Reliving unhappy memories is always unpleasant, Maddie. I’m simply saying that it’s likely I’ll refer to her because she was once in my life and to know me, you must know of my life. She’s also the mother of my children and will always be a part of my life in some way because of that.” His voice dropped even softer and his eyes held mine, his intense but warm, when he went on. “And last, I loved her deeply, so she simply always will be a part of me.”
I nodded as this was true, but he wasn’t done.
“I’m also saying if you feel the need to release your memories, unhappy or otherwise, and need someone to tell them to, and in the case of the unhappy ones, if you need someone to help take them from you, I’m here.”
God, that was sweet.
Seriously, could this guy get better?
“Thanks,” I whispered, though I added, “But can it not be now?”
“Absolutely, it can not be now. It can be never. It’s your decision whether you wish to share…or not.”
Yep.
This guy could get better.
And then he got even better and he did that by sitting back and changing the subject, which, at that point, was exactly what I needed.
“I have yet to tell you of Valentine’s visits.”
I nodded, and since I wanted to know about that, I put my elbows to the table and leaned into them, placing my chin in my palms and curling my fingers up my cheeks.
When I did, his eyes melted to tender and my belly melted at the view.
But what he said didn’t make me feel warm and squishy.
“I must ask, dove, that if she visits you, you tell me. This is again your choice, but it is my preference to know if she meddles.”
That surprised me. “Is she not a nice person?”
“I am not unskilled in reading people. This witch, however, I cannot say. She seems to have a rather robust protective bent to you. Yet she left you the tea without you understanding its potency or effects. It led to us sharing something beautiful, but this is not done. Indeed, it’s frowned upon and there have even been men and women brought up on charges when they’ve used it on those who were unsuspecting.”
“It’s used as a date rape drug,” I deduced quietly.
“Explain this,” he ordered.
I lifted my chin from my palms and did just that.
“In my world, men and women go on dates before marriage. It’s a kind of wooing, I guess. Courtship. A getting to know each other period. Sometimes, this leads to a union, marriage or the like. Sometimes, it doesn’t work out and you move on. Also in my world, there are drugs that are used to make women—they’re mostly used on women—unconscious or unable to defend themselves so the men they’re dating can take advantage. They’re called date rape drugs because, when it all boils down, even if there’s no violence or struggle, that’s only because the woman has been incapacitated. So it’s still rape. Using adela tea like that is not the same, but it kind of is.”
He nodded once, sharply, and concurred, “It is.”
I sat back, reached for my wineglass and took a sip, replacing it to the table, mumbling, “So I guess that’s the second time she drugged me without my knowledge.”
“Your first night in our world,” he stated and I looked at him again.
“Yes.”
He looked away but did it appearing annoyed and I’d know why when he murmured, “I’d wondered why you slipped into sleep so easily after your trauma.”
“That was why,” I affirmed.
He looked back to me. “This, poppy, is precisely why I wish for you to inform me if she comes to you. In word and deed she seems to have your best interests at heart. But it all depends on the person and their actions if their best interests are also yours, no?”
He was so right.
I nodded my agreement.
He again leaned toward me and gentled his tone when he requested, “And please, from now on, don’t touch, accept or consume anything unless you’re certain it was provided to you by me. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
His lips curved up and he whispered, “Thank you, poppy.”
Okay.
Totally.
This guy kept getting so much better I was beginning to wonder if he was even real.
“We must discuss something else sensitive before our food is served so it can have both our attention and then we can go on to enjoy the evening unhindered by such discourse.”
Oh boy.
So far this date wasn’t much for the easy conversation.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“Last night was just you and me,” he declared.
I felt my brows draw together in confusion but agreed to the obvious. “Yes.”
“What I’m saying is, considering what you shared with me was the length of time since you were last active before last night, I would doubt you’re taking pennyrium and not once did I wear a sheath.”
I shook my head, still confused. “I don’t—”
“To protect against conception.”
Holy shit.
My entire body grew still.
Apollo obviously didn’t notice because he kept talking.
“Prior to leaving Vasterhague, we will procure you some pennyrium and tonight, I’ll wear a sheath.”
I had no idea what pennyrium was. I could guess what a sheath was. And that last was nice and all, but my heart was racing and my mind was reeling.
I tried to count the times he came inside me the night before and I couldn’t. There were too many. At least five. Maybe more.
Shit!
I hadn’t thought of that. Upon waking, I’d only thought about him being hurt and angry. Then I’d, of course, fallen asleep. After that, it was all about him being sweet and affectionate and getting ready for our date.
Shit.
Shit!
“Maddie,” he called and I forced myself to focus on him.
“Um…I would say that all this is good, Apollo. Nice. I like it.” I indicated him, me and the table with a circling hand and when I was done, I dropped that hand to rest on the table. “But pregnancy at this point is definitely taking things too freaking quickly,” I shared.
“Agreed,” he said slowly, reaching out a hand, capturing mine and holding it tight. “And I’ll share that pennyrium didn’t agree with Ilsa and we wished time together after we were wed before Christophe was born. The sheath gave us that time as well as time between Christophe and Élan. It is often used and quite dependable. If you can take pennyrium, it’s even better.”
&nbs
p; “What’s pennyrium?” I asked.
“A powder you take once a day that protects you from conceiving. One must be careful using it for if you wish to conceive, even if you cease consuming the powder, it can take some time to leave the system and long-term usage can make conception difficult. But it’s effective.”
“Okay, let’s get me some of that,” I said swiftly.
His hand tightened around mine and his lips twitched. “I’ll see to that without delay.”
I nodded enthusiastically.
He pressed his lips together, his eyes lit with humor then he pulled our hands to his mouth and touched my knuckles to his lips.
I quit freaking about all the unprotected sex we had last night and my heart flipped.
He kept my hand to his lips and his voice was so quiet, so gentle, I had to lean further forward to hear him when he asked a very big question with two simple words, “Your children?”
“Can we not talk about that now?” I whispered.
“Of course, poppy,” he replied.
I thanked him with my eyes as I tried to force my body to relax.
“Ulfr!”
His name called jovially made me jump and turn my head to see a man in much the same clothing as Apollo (but with a neck cloth and his shirt was blue) coming to our table. He was also stout, had a bit of white at the temples of his black hair and my guess was he was shorter than Apollo by about three inches and older than Apollo by about ten years.
He was smiling at Apollo but his smile went weird when his eyes hit me.
“Danforth,” Apollo said, giving my fingers a squeeze and letting them go.
He stood and offered his hand, the man taking it and gripping hard at the same time he clapped Apollo on the shoulder a half a dozen times in a way that a lesser man would fall to his knee.
Apollo didn’t budge, if you didn’t count his jaw going hard.
I took this as him not liking the greeting much, and/or the man.
Then suddenly, he let Apollo go and turned to me with a sharp movement and something a creepy bit more than curiosity in his eyes.
“And who might this be?” he asked.
It was then I remembered who I looked like and my insides froze.
“This is Madeleine, Lady Ulfr,” Apollo said and the man’s eyes cut immediately back to him as his body gave a visible start.
“Lady Ulfr?” he said in a weighty tone that I didn’t quite understand but I also didn’t think boded well. And I didn’t think this boded well not because I looked exactly like the no-longer-with-us Lady Ulfr but for another reason. I just didn’t know what that reason was.
“Lady Ulfr,” Apollo repeated in a firm way that brooked no return questioning.
“I had…well,”—the man threw both hands out—“I’d heard that a cousin of Ilsa’s was journeying to Karsvall from the Vale but…but…” His eyes came back to me. They were wide and assessing in a way that made me feel uncomfortable even as he finished, “This is indeed good news.”
Good news?
“It is,” Apollo agreed and the man looked back at him.
“For you, my man.” He looked again at me. “And for you, madam.” He then lifted his hand in a flourish toward his head and gave me a short bow.
I didn’t know what to do with that so when he straightened, I inclined my head.
He held out his hand, palm up, and murmured, “It is surely a pleasure to meet you, Madeleine, Lady Ulfr.”
I placed my fingers in his and replied, “And you, sir.”
His fingers wrapped around mine for a short squeeze then he let me go.
Thankfully, the waiter showed at that point with our appetizers.
“Ulfr.” Danforth clapped Apollo on the back and it was a wonder Apollo’s shoulder didn’t jerk forward at the strength of the blow. “I’ll leave you to your meal, your lady and your”—he glanced meaningfully at the champagne—“celebrations.”
“My gratitude,” Apollo replied, his words short, his tone tight.
The man turned to me. “Pleasure.”
“Yes,” I agreed, feeling weird about what was happening and stupid because I had no clue how to act in this situation as “Lady Ulfr.”
He swept away and Apollo sat down as the waiter set our plates in front of us.
And as Apollo sat, he muttered, “Bloody hell.”
The waiter bowed and moved away and I leaned in immediately.
“What was that?” I asked in a low voice.
Apollo moved his angry gaze that was directed to his plate to me and he rearranged his features instantly.
He was hiding something.
Not good.
“I’ll explain later, dove,” he murmured.
Oh no. He wasn’t getting to me with that sweet, lovely “dove” business.
“Apollo, what was that?” I repeated.
His eyes grew intense on mine and he also repeated, “I’ll explain later, Maddie.”
Telling myself he was not Pol, not Pol, not Pol, I still couldn’t stop myself from thinking about a Pol who dealt drugs for a living and thus kept a variety of things from me. Not that I wanted to know, but it still didn’t feel nice, as secrets never did.
A Pol that decided what house we lived in without much input from me (as in, none). A Pol who also decided what car I would drive, ditto the input. And with this kind of thing I could go on (and on).
And he was a Pol who had a variety of things on his mind, stressors in his life (seeing as he was a drug dealer, one high up the food chain, but one nonetheless) and he didn’t share those concerns with me through anything but his fists.
Apollo was not Pol.
But I’d learned through Pol that I didn’t like things kept from me.
I would not want to know Pol’s dealings. What I did know, I didn’t like. What I did know was another reason to leave him. And he knew that. So he didn’t give it to me outright and in the end, he just didn’t give me anything but good sex and bad times.
And maybe he didn’t because he knew if it was out in the open, I’d betray him to the police. Or I’d hate him and do it for more reasons other than the fact that he made me keep secrets too. Secrets that I detested. The biggest one being that I lived in fear of him, and every second of every day I had to live a lie and hide that.
But that was moot now.
I understood Apollo was not Pol.
But I wasn’t going to start a relationship with a man who held anything back from me.
I leaned deeper into the table and enunciated clearly, “Apollo…what…was…that?”
He studied me, he did it for a long time and he did it with conflicted eyes.
Then he made his decision.
And for some reason, his decision at that very second meant everything to me.
Absolutely everything.
Because I knew, if he made the wrong one, the damage would be irrevocable.
“In this country,” he began slowly, and when he did, I knew he’d made the right one so I pulled in a soft, relieved breath. “At times, it is customary, when a man is unattached, usually widowed, for him to take a wife who has been the same. This could, of course, be a natural coupling where they meet, find each other agreeable, and wed. Other times, a man will take this wife, a relative not of blood, say, his cousin’s widowed bride…”
He hesitated. I braced and I was glad I did when he carried on.
“Or a relation of his dead wife, in order to provide her a home the likes to which she has become accustomed. It happens mostly only amongst those who are members of a House and it happens with women who sometimes have children, but also if she is alone, or perhaps a man who has children and thus they have no mother. And it usually happens in order that the female, who is unlikely to be able to provide herself with an income, is able to live amongst those of her own in comfort and with protection.”
I let out my breath in a whoosh, having a feeling I knew where this was going and not sure how I felt about it.
??
?In any case, amongst the Houses, where a man intends to take a woman as wife, if that intention is understood and agreed between the parties, that union being inevitable, prior to that, she will begin to be addressed as a lady of that House. In this case,”—he held my eyes—“you being addressed as Lady Ulfr.”
Yes, I knew where it was going.
“And who in your House am I marrying?” I asked instantly.
“Me,” he replied just as instantly.
I stared at him for long moments.
He let me.
Then I stated, “So you just told that man we’re engaged.”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
Holy cow!
“Are we engaged?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered immediately and decisively.
I sucked in a sharp breath and on the exhale, noted, “I think this is pretty much the definition of moving too fast, Apollo.”
Apollo said nothing.
“Did I miss your proposal?” I queried.
“The words weren’t uttered,” he replied. “But I think your answer was ‘please.’”
I blinked and asked, “What?”
He suddenly leaned forward, his hand shooting out and clasping mine.
This was not an affectionate gesture.
It was a claiming one.
And his eyes were burning into mine.
Oh shit.
“When I covered you last night, before I took you, you said ‘please.’”
I remembered that. Hell, I’d never forget it.
But seriously?
I felt my eyes get big. “That’s a marriage proposal?”
“It’ll do for us.”
Oh my God!
Maybe he didn’t keep getting better.
I leaned in too, and hissed, “Apollo, that’s insane.”
“I was unsheathed.”
Crap!
“And you took me repeatedly,” he went on.
Crap!
I knew what he was saying. He was saying unprotected sex often equals pregnancy. And pregnancy also often equals marriage. Obviously even in this world.
I didn’t need to deal with that right then. That was too big for me to deal with. And I decided in that moment I couldn’t worry about something when I didn’t know if there was anything to worry about. Instead I would deal with it only when I knew that there was something to deal with.