The sound of running feet crunching through the snow broke their embrace.

"Hmmm," Bonn said, scanning her face with a loving look. "You've given me a reason to stay alive, princess."

Before Starlex could respond, the Skaard had hoisted himself into the saddle on the back of the tall stallion, and with a sharp battle cry piercing the frigid air, he thundered off into the bright sunlight with Leiffen and a dozen other men riding behind him.

Her legs moved on their own now without the aid of conscious thought, and Starlex quickly scampered up an ice-covered mound for better vantage. She watched as the small battalion rode away from Rhynforde, tracking them down the narrow road until they disappeared into a cloud of mist.

What now? she thought, sitting on a rock protruding from the snow. Unfastening the simple silver clasp of her cape, she let it drop off her shoulders and tilted her face to the sun. She closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp air. It cleared her mind in the way the muggy climate of Oran never had.

I am to be his wife, she thought, feeling the sun's warmth on her skin.

Gracious Illym, she prayed silently. Behold your daughter before you offering thanks for your kindness and love. Keep my future husband safe. Let him return to me safely so I may be his wife in flesh as well as spirit.

She stayed in that place until the sun had dried her tears of gratitude and concern, and then she stood and returned to the camp to ask the women how she could be of some use. Flenn Illymium had taught her some healing arts. Perhaps she could apply it to the injured soldiers.

As she trudged through the snow, she felt a sense of purpose and a lighter heart than she had ever known.

I am to be married.

She wanted to climb the tallest Kadaar peak and shout it to the world, but a lingering worry stayed with her like a burr caught in her shoe.

He cannot die in battle. He must come back to make me his wife. I can't have come this far in finding love only to have it taken away from me.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

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Tylla lay beneath a sweating Roland Davadas biting her lip and gripping the silk sheets as she counted his grunts until through the act. She had never known such pain, such intense humiliation. The wine she had drunk did little to ease her suffering. When her husband was at last finished, he rolled off her and fell immediately into a deep sleep.

She listened to his snores and gazed at the mural on the ceiling of her bedroom. The flickering candlelight made the depiction of maidens and their satyr pursuers from the days of the old Illymium tribes seem violent and wrong, a depiction of rape. Why had she never noticed before?

Sickened, she touched herself between her legs and felt the sticky liquid forming there. She brought her fingers to the candlelight and saw the blood.

At least the sheets would tell the tale of my deflowering. It's done now.

She prided herself on being a strong girl, no longer a girl, a woman now. And practical. For this reason alone, she willed herself not to cry. Her new husband groaned with satisfaction and pulled her close to him until she was trapped under his muscular arm with its salty scent. It was a scent she knew she must get used to.

No doubt he was nervous about this first time, she thought. I was playing the role of the virgin, which technically I was, but perhaps if I gave him some books like the ones Carmelle and I had found on a shelf hidden high in the stacks of the tower library, the ones with the illustrations depicting different body positions for acts of love, titillating uses of fingers and tongues.

How much Carmelle and I enjoyed that book, she reflected, gazing at the ceiling. How much fun we had practicing the positions in the hayloft of the stables or when we'd ride out to the white beaches beyond the pale forest at night.

She remembered one night when Carmelle had made love to her so intensely on the moon-kissed sands that she had cried out with abandon, gripping Carmelle so tightly to her that the mother and daughter moons merged in the sky and became one. Then she had done the same to Carmelle, finding even more pleasure in hearing her lover's cries of satisfaction ringing through the night.

But thinking of her former lover only depressed her. Still, lying under the cage of her new husband's heavy arm, she decided she would not be a victim. She would use what power she had to train this man to give HER pleasure, not just take it for himself, and if he wanted to enter her again, he would have to earn it in a hundred ways first.

Being the beloved gives one the upper hand. Any fool knows that. And this man loves me, and my indifference toward him only gives me strength.

I will train him as I would my horse.

She smiled at her newly formed plan. She would not only survive this situation, but she would also become the victor. With these thoughts soothing her mind, Tylla shut her eyes. Glad that this day was at last behind her, she welcomed the oblivion of sleep.