It took an ironic amount of effort to relax—or at least, to remember how. Kaln had spent a couple of days in wonder and discovery constantly tinged with the need to manage his bizarre new situation under pressures he didn’t fully understand; before that had been a year of toil and deprivation, eking out bare survival on a mission fueled by pure spite, goaded along by possibly the most manifestly suspicious being in the cosmos. And before that… Well, his last days in Rhivkabat had been in a prison, expecting an expedient knife from the dark as his only reprieve from grieving how the people he’d most loved and trusted had put him in that situation.
He had to look quite a long way back to dredge up memories of just…goofing off. But they were there; Kaln had spent countless hours of his youth faffing around the Dockmarket and Feathered Steps Districts, first in the company of fellow foundlings raised through the civil service program, then fellow scribes, and eventually an eclectic group of friends he’d picked up on the course of these little adventures. He knew how to patronize bars and shops and food stalls, just relaxing, enjoying the ambiance and the company.
And once he got back into the rhythm of it, this was so much better. Instead of scribes and other higher-class riffraff, he was in the company of his gorgeous, fascinating new wife. Instead of the leftovers after living expenses of a young civil servant’s wages, he had an effectively bottomless quantity of coin.
Yeah, in fact it was hard to even describe how much better this was.
They wandered, browsed, snacked and chatted without purpose, just letting the Roundabout take them wherever it went, and taking in whatever they found there. Izayaroa seemed to take it as given that she’d buy whatever caught her fancy in any shop they patronized, which at first appalled Kaln’s frugal sensibilities, but he got over it quickly. Having bags of holding that not only held unfathomable amounts of money but offered them infinite carrying capacity, there was nothing at all to inhibit their spending. They picked up everything from tea and candy to clothing and pottery—and always at the asking price, without haggling. It took very little of this for the two of them to become immensely popular among the shopkeepers, who were clearly forewarned as they made their way up the street and began sending scantily-clad Nhiyah attendants of both sexes out to intercept and coax them in, and once inside, plied them with so many sweets and snacks and drinks that they ended up not buying any more food on their way up the street.
His intuitive understanding of any spell his wife cast got very interesting over the course of the evening. Seven times that Kaln counted, Izayaroa—with no outward sign that she was doing anything—sent out pulses of magic that targeted and left in a state of helpless befuddlement individuals who’d begun to follow them with less hospitable intentions. None of them Nhiyah, interestingly. Well, that was surely preferable to leaving someone in a pile of giblets in an alley. Not that Kaln had much sympathy for bandits, but it was hard not to feel a little bad for someone just trying to scrape by in a rough country who accidentally ambushed a dragon. Better for everyone if nothing came to a head in the first place.
Though they ended up not patronizing any more food stalls, there were many street performers paced strategically along the route, separated just enough that they didn’t interfere with one another. Musicians, a puppet show, some kind of call-and-response comedy duo that seemed a little too culturally specific for Kaln to quite get, and dancers of all kinds—including a nearly-nude trio of Nhiyah acrobats who clambered about on spinning poles, obviously showing off their bodies at least as much as their athleticism. They had, unsurprisingly, the largest crowd. Kaln and Izayaroa stopped for at least a few minutes at each little show, and tossed a few coins at the appropriate moments.
“Just so we are clear, husband,” Izayaroa murmured after the third time he politely declined a pushy invitation into an obvious brothel, “none of your consorts are prone to jealousy.”
He gave her an aggressively skeptical look, at which she grinned in amusement.
“Very well, I phrased that poorly. If any of us begins to think we are receiving a lesser share of your attention than that to which we feel entitled, there will be issues. But beyond that, we won’t begrudge whatever else you choose to do with your free time. If you wish to dally here and there, or even keep a mortal concubine or several, that in and of itself should cause no affront.”
Kaln, not being a complete idiot, wasn’t even touching that.
“Good to know, but right now, I am here with you.” He looped his arm back around her waist, tugging her close, which she rewarded with a delighted smile and an exuberant little snuggle. “And you are more than worth my full attention, lady wife. You can’t just flaunt yourself under my nose and expect me to find anyone else even slightly interesting.”
“You really are good at that,” she said approvingly. “I’d best be careful, husband, lest you have a deleterious effect on my ego.”
He wasn’t touching that one, either.
The Nhiyah continued to be exuberant and unrepentant flirts in almost every interaction, but as the evening wore on and seemingly everyone with whom they did business praised them as the prettiest couple who’d been seen here in years, it occurred to Kaln that the Verdi had done the same—both the lamb skewer vendor and the coach drivers, though not the more upscale staff at the Renaissance. Without doubt they were shmoozing in the hope of sweetening every deal, but part of him had to wonder. The Verdi were clearly not a xenophobic culture, to judge by how they seemed to embrace the Nhiyah among them; maybe they found his darker complexion and curly hair appealing. Obviously, cultural standards of beauty differed, and he knew nothing of those in this country, but it was difficult to imagine any standard by which Izayaroa wasn’t almost too lovely to look upon.
Insincere or not, the constant compliments were good for his confidence, and he found himself fitting more easily into the role Izayaroa seemed to want from him. Oh, Kaln sought her input frequently, but at every turn it was he who decided what they would do, or see, or buy—and he who prevailed, simply by default, the few times they had a difference of opinion. The first time, he’d had to work hard to disguise his nervousness about it, but her smile was purely approving, even affectionate. In fact…her smiles only got more so, as he continued to make declarations and decisions. Always listening to her, of course; Kaln didn’t think he had it in him to be truly bossy, but finding himself the permanent tiebreaker by fiat was…heady. Unfamiliar, and as nourishing to his morale as the constant bombardment of compliments.
What with one thing and another, after a couple of carefree hours, Izayaroa’s smiles were delivered up through her lashes, accompanied by sparkling eyes and increasingly often, an avid nibble of her lower lip. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes from wandering over her…and to a lesser extent his hands, though he did still possess some semblance of Rhiva decorum. But keeping his arm frequently around her allowed for long caresses of her upper arm and shoulder, the curve of her waist, the arch of her spine…
It was clear that their decision to cut short their excursion after a few hours, just as true night was falling, was by mutual agreement. Unspoken agreement, though, until he made the call unilaterally. And when he did she looked so proud and receptive he couldn’t help himself.
That kiss got them even more catcalls from the audience, and this time he couldn’t find a vestige of awkwardness in himself.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Izayaroa was practically in his lap as soon as they climbed into a quickly-hailed carriage, and fully in it by the time they reached the Renaissance. It was with deep mutual reluctance that they managed to disentangle enough to get inside and upstairs un-disheveled, but they made it successfully to the door of their suite.
Where it was the most Kaln could do to kick the door shut before she was wrapped entirely around him.
They didn’t even make it in past the foyer for the first half hour. For a dragon and a godling, it seemed, a cold marble floor was as good as a feather bed.
----------------------------------------
Still, the trip wasn’t meant to be all fun and games.
Izayaroa wanted to visit her merchant contacts in the morning—but not too early. Arising with the sun, thanks to an apparently diminished need for sleep, they had time for a leisurely and frankly lavish breakfast which a diffident servant delivered to their chambers upon being summoned by the bell cord, one of which was attached to the wall in every room of their suite. Kaln wasn’t sure he could say the spread of fruit, pastries, eggs and heavily spiced porridge was more to his taste than the simpler street foods they’d sampled yesterday, but it was nothing if not delicious, and both were certainly preferable to hunger. After the way he’d been eating for the last year—which was to say, little and cheaply—he wondered whether all this rich food was going to make him sick, but so far there’d been no sign of it.
It seemed godlings were resilient in a variety of useful ways.
As they were passing through the lobby after breakfast on their way to the door, they were greeted by the concierge, the same gracious older man who’d been on duty the previous day.
“Good morning, my lady, my lord.”
He had that remarkable knack often possessed by the senior servants of powerful people—and certain government bureaucrats, who were the type in whom Kaln had more often encountered it personally. That unique blend of diffidence and command, a subtle way of posture and intonation that demanded and usually received instant attention even from the speaker’s betters, and yet could not be called out as presumptuous.
“I trust your stay has been pleasant thus far,” the man continued with a benign smile and a gesture halfway between a bow and a nod.
“But of course,” Izayaroa assured him, “as it always is. The Renaissance has never disappointed me.”
“It gladdens me beyond words to hear that, my lady. I dare to hope we have made an equally favorable impression upon your lord husband.”
“Everything has been more than delightful,” Kaln said without exaggeration. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the hospitality shown us during even this brief stay.”
“You show too much kindness to our humble establishment, my lord. Tell me, have we by chance the honor of hosting you during your honeymoon?”
“Our…” Kaln blinked and turned to Izayaroa, failing to process the unfamiliar term. The etymology was… Actually, he had noticed between breakfast and yesterday’s snacking that the Verdi made their sweets with honey rather than cane sugar; the civil servant in him was intrigued by the implications. Cultural preference, or just economics?
“A northern custom,” Izayaroa explained to him. “Newlyweds will often celebrate their nuptials by taking a recreational trip together, often embarking immediately after the ceremony.”
“Ah. Well, then!” He smiled at her, then at the concierge as she squeezed his hand, smiling back. “Then I suppose we are! Not deliberately, perhaps, but I’m finding it a very fine custom indeed.”
“Our most earnest felicitations on the occasion of your happiness,” the man replied with a benign smile and another almost-bow. “And the humble gratitude of the house that you would grant us this privilege. If only I had known beforehand, I could have made a suitable accommodation for such an important event!”
“Oh, we don’t require any undue fuss,” Kaln hastened to assure him. “In fact, by and large we prefer our privacy.”
“Yes, my lord, privacy and discretion are highly valued by many of our guests, and the Renaissance is duty-bound to guarantee them. Pursuant to that, we happen to have a dedicated honeymoon suite—one more special in its accouterments than your present lodgings, in particular its relative physical isolation from the other rooms. It is somewhat insulated by its own private gardens, an arrangement very much favored by couples celebrating a new union. And the Shepherd has smiled upon you, it seems! Quite by happenstance, the honeymoon suite currently stands empty. I should be delighted to upgrade you to it for the remainder of your stay, at no additional charge, of course.”
Izayaroa looked at him, holding her peace. Ah, right—she liked it when he made the decisions. Was this a dragon thing, or just her? He’d have to—very carefully—sound out Emeralaphine and Tiavathyris… But that was a headache for another day.
“That’s exceedingly generous, sir,” Kaln said, “but I assure you we don’t require any special accommodation. Our current suite is more comfortable than we could have hoped; I wouldn’t dream of putting you to any further effort.”
It was almost too comfortable, in fact, at least to his sensibilities. At any rate, Izayaroa had seemed satisfied, and that surely meant it was good enough for any conceivable standards. Kaln was almost afraid to touch anything in there, at least when he wasn’t too distracted by having her in his arms. What with one thing and another, they’d touched quite a lot last night.
“It is no effort whatsoever,” the concierge said smoothly. “The utmost comfort of our guests is the absolute baseline of the Renaissance. I could never stand before the Shepherd in judgment knowing I had permitted such esteemed visitors to enjoy less than the very finest of accommodations on such an important moment in their lives. By your will, my lord, my lady, I can give the order and have your belongings conveyed to our honeymoon suite with nary an imposition to yourselves. You can proceed there directly upon returning from your outing, with the compliments of the house.”
“Thank you,” Kaln said firmly, “but we are comfortable where we are.”
“Ah, yes, the house of course prioritizes your comfort above all else, my lord. Yours, and that of every guest.” Though they were presently alone in the lobby, save the door attendant who stood out of earshot, he leaned forward subtly, lowering his voice. “Including those staying in the suites to either side of and directly above your current rooms. All three of whom have issued complaints this morning.” Shifting forward by another hair, he dropped his volume further until he spoke in a murmur barely audible even to them. “About the noise.”
For a second, Kaln just stared at him, uncomprehending. Then realization crashed down, and with it a surge of utter mortification he just barely managed to keep off his face. Mostly. He had enough poise not to cringe and hunch in on himself; he couldn’t do anything about the blush.
Right…the noise. Last night they hadn’t given a single thought to anything but each other, just reveling in the preternatural stamina of the two kinds of magical being they were to make love in every room of the suite, and that only for starters. On nearly every piece of furniture including the keyboard, against—and this part almost did make him wince, in light of the concierge’s comments—almost every wall. They hadn’t even slept, not truly, only had naps here and there because there came moments when time spent cuddling had been just the right touch before they flowed into another round of…
“Ah,” said Izayaroa, fortunately stepping in since Kaln found himself completely tongue-tied in embarrassment. She did not look embarrassed; just amused, and perhaps even a little smug. “I see. Husband, we have been inconsiderate.”
“So it would seem,” he agreed, finding his voice at her gentle prompting—and very pleased to find his tone even, somewhat to his own surprise. “Well! Clearly that cannot stand. You have our solemn apologies for the imposition, good sir. I thank you most humbly for your kind offer, and we shall be delighted to move to whatever chambers are most convenient for the house.”
“Rest assured, my lord,” the concierge replied with utter aplomb, “the house has no priority save your comfort; our only convenience is the happiness of our guests. Do please enjoy your day in the assurance that you shall have a royal welcome to our finest suite awaiting your return.”
Kaln managed to blurt some pleasantry or other without losing the last shreds of his poise, and made as hasty a retreat as he could without visibly rushing, hand-in-hand with his wife, who continued to look like she found this immensely entertaining. The attendant opened the door for them, blank-faced as always, and in addition to his usual instinct to thank her in defiance of Verdi custom, this time Kaln had to repress the urge to apologize. Not that she in particular had anything to do with it and likely wouldn’t know what he was talking about, he just…felt the need to apologize.
Izayaroa waited at least until they were outside and out of range of the door guard before speaking, looking coyly up at him and bumping him with her hip.
“You are truly adorable when flustered, husband. I did not expect to see that. Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word to the others. In fact, I find I rather wish to keep this side of you for myself, at least for a while.”
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shooting her a somewhat less warm glance, which only made her smile wider.
“You could stand to look at little less pleased with yourself.”
“Mmm…” Her smile became an outright smirk, stretching to truly impressive proportions. “No, upon consideration, I don’t think I could. Driver!”
As always, there was a convenient carriage waiting to carry them away—complete with a chatty and outgoing driver. Who, just like the others…
“Why, look at this! And aren’t you the prettiest pair of mortal souls I ever did see. It’s a right honor to have you in my humble carriage!”
Funnily enough, this time Kaln found it a bit less comfortable.