A Husband for Deva

Faith and Fears

A vision of Father Angad's face rose up in Deva's mind.

"No! Take it away!" She slammed the case in her hands closed, to hide the treacherously beautiful thing from sight, and dropped it into Brialach's lap before turning her face away from him. "Why do you tempt me with it? The Lord of Darkness will eat me and I'll have no immortal soul."

"Teira ocháid! You don't really believe this depály, this puche?!" The scorn in his voice froze her. She didn't know the words, but their meaning was unmistakeable.

"How dare you mock my faith?" She flung herself away from the bed, away from his touch, from the case that still lay in his lap. "I've been a good girl all my life. I follow the Path of Light."

He grinned. "You lay with me, didn't you? Long before our wedding vows, and not just once? Does your Light approve of that?"

She hopped in frustration, stamping both feet at once. "Do you even have some kind of faith? Or do you just deride everything that can't be seen?"

"Why do you assume that my faith has to look like yours?" Brialach gestured with an angry hand, and a shower of green sparks cascaded from his fingertips, shooting halfway across the room. Deva screamed and ducked. "I'm sorry." He stood and took a step toward her, and she backed away. "It won't happen again."

"No?" She took a breath, calming herself, and raised her eyebrows at him. "I think your self-control isn't as good as your sister's."

"It is not," he agreed, with a grimace. "And I am sorry I lost my temper. But the majka is as much a part of my faith as fear of it is of yours. I brought you something that means much to me, and you threw it back in my lap."

"I know. I'm sorry." She averted her eyes. "I'm just scared. It... that... it wants me to touch it."

"No. It is just a... a tool to use. The majka inside you recognizes it as such."

"But I can't have magic inside me."

"Then my gift is just a necklace that you can wear without fear, yes?"

Deva remembered the strange pull she'd felt, looking at it. I still feel it, even with the case closed. I can feel its brightness. And there was a longing to that sensation, a desire to connect with... what? Something dazzling and strong inside me. "It's not just a necklace."

Brialach shot her a wry half-smile. "The craftsman who made it laid his hands on me and learned the print of your majka from my memories of you. That cannot be undone. But we can put it away for another time, if you wish."

"I can't un-know about it. And it's foolish to tremble over children's stories about the Lord of Darkness coming to eat those who stray off the Path, isn't it?"

"Not foolish. We have stories about the Noctarodhe - the Night Man - that are much the same. I have outgrown the stories, but I cannot say entirely that I disbelieve in him. In daylight I will say it. Alone at night? It is hard to be so sure." He laughed, gently self-deprecating, and she found herself able to laugh too.

On the strength of that laughter, she swallowed her misgivings and squared her shoulders. "Well, then, since I am not alone tonight, I can find my courage. Will you... will you put the... it... on me, please?"

He smiled, a big sweet smile that made something shiver with pleasure deep inside her. "It is a torcha. Say it."

"Will you please help me put on my tor-cha?" She pronounced the word with care.

"Yes, mae orchadhe, I will." He opened the case, and this time she didn't shrink away from it, but held herself still as he lifted the beautiful gold collar from its velvet bed and laid it around her neck, fastening the clasp at her nape. It felt cool at first, then warmed to her skin. The central pendant was longer than Ashlen's and hung down between her breasts, drawing Brialach's eyes to it.

"Why do you call me that?" she asked him, feeling short of breath.

"It means desirable one. Which you are." He took a velvet bag from the case. "Here are the bandhi for your hair. May I?"

When she nodded, he began to pull the pins from her hair so that it fell in dark waves down her back. His fingers brushed her scalp and neck as he gathered sections of her hair and tied the four gold bandhi into them. Her back arched as she leaned into his touch like a cat being stroked.

"What do I do now?" she asked, aware of a dizzy warmth all over her body. Is that magic, or just him?

"What do you want to do?" His voice grew deeper, and his eyes were fixed on hers. "Wrap a hand around the pendant..." He took her hand in his and wrapped her shaking fingers around the sapphire teardrop, and all she could feel was the back of his hand resting against the curve of her breast. What do I want to do?

She could see a pulse beating in his throat. Something fizzed and crackled behind her eyes, and pale violet light flickered around her as the lacing that fastened his tunic split apart.

She gasped, and he looked down and chuckled. "If you wanted my clothes off, you only had to ask."

"Did I do that?" she asked, looking at the broken lacing in half-horrified fascination.

"You did." He shrugged out of the leather tunic, and then stripped off the linen he wore beneath it, so that he stood in nothing but his leggings. "And now you are overdressed, Deva."

"Oh, no. The baby... I look like a whale, you can't possibly..."

A hint of strain showed on his face. "Ah, mae orchadhe, I can wait if I must. But surely you can see how much I desire you, just as you are."

Oh. Yes. Visible proof. Proof that she could feel for herself if only she moved half a foot closer, pressed herself against him. She could feel the burning of a blush rising up from her throat.

The dazzling strength of the magic inside her roared. Something that felt like a high wind swept around them both, tumbling them onto the bed in an intimate tangle. Deva found that her smock had been torn from her body and her skirts were rucked up around her waist, and Brialach was leaning over her with intense hunger in his eyes.

"Tell me I must wait, and I will find somewhere else to sleep. Or tell me I can stay."

"Stay," she said. "Oh, please stay."

"Claireidhi deváid! It would have taken all my strength to leave." He bent his head to kiss her, and the anticipation of caused a shower of tiny violet sparks to scatter around them. "I think we take your torcha off, for now," he murmured against her lips. "The majka responds to strong passions. That could get dangerous."

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♥ So, they almost had a fight over a sensitive topic. Have you ever dated (or married) someone whose spiritual beliefs are different from yours? Not so easy, is it?

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