A Husband for Deva

Not Listening

Deva lounged on the bed in her chemise, watching Brialach dress.

Her lovely finery was safely and carefully draped over the dressing stand, ready for Bekra to put away until Midwinter. But she still felt like a queen with the bandhi tied into her hair like a crown.

"You should wear them always," he said, as he fastened the waistband of his leggings.

Distracted by the fine arrow of cinnamon body hair that led down his abdomen, she barely registered what he'd said. "Mmm?"

"Your bandhi." Brialach pulled his tunic over his head. "My sister wears hers every day. You should too."

"But I can't." We just talked about this; didn't you hear anything I said? "It's different for Ashlen. She's an Islander."

"You're a majkeidhe and my wife."

"You're not listening to me." And I never asked to be either of those things.

"Teira ocháid! I cannot make you wear them. But you should." With a gesture of frustration, he strode out of the room.

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When Bekra came in sometime later, Deva still lay on the bed, curled on her side with her back toward the door. "Are you asleep, Princess?" the lady-in-waiting asked softly, and Deva heard the rustle of a blanket from the foot of the bed being unfolded, then felt its soft warmth settle around her.

"I'm not asleep, but thank you for the blanket," she mumbled, her voice sounding thick and tearful even to her own ears. I could have pretended, she told herself, but she wanted Bekra's comfort.

"You've been crying! What happened?" Bekra peered at her with kind eyes, then held out a handkerchief and patted Deva's shoulder. "The baby's all right? You're not bleeding or having pains?"

Deva sighed, giving her belly a rub. That's true – I haven't had any pains this morning. The baby kicked, causing her to grimace, then smile. "The baby's fine."

"Prince Brialach, then?" Bekra asked. "What did he do? Come now, sit up. It's well past time that you should be dressed."

With a concerted effort, Deva pushed herself to a sitting position and took the blouse Bekra held out to her. "Lord of Light, I'm enormous! He wants me to wear the bandhi in my hair – all the time, in public. Can you imagine what Mother would say?" A small bitter laugh bubbled out of Deva at the thought.

"Did you ask him why?"

"He knows why I can't, unless he wasn't listening. Ilujavit women don't go around with our hair down."

Bekra put out a hand to help Deva to her feet so she could step into her skirts. "He knows. So if he asked you to wear them anyway, he might have a reason."

Deva huffed, not wanting Bekra to be right. And yet... when they'd argued about the kissing-ball, she'd accused him of assuming and judging and condemning instead of asking questions. She wriggled into her smock to hide the blush she could feel warming her face. "What should I do?"

"You could ask him about it, Princess," Bekra said. "Or we could try a practical compromise – fix these, ah, bandhi into your hair under your kerchief. You and he could know they were there, and no one else would."

"Oh. Yes, please. That would be good; thank you, Bekra." The smooth strokes of the hairbrush soothed Deva. Perhaps I won't tell him right away, she thought, still a tiny bit angry that he – like everyone else – had tried to tell her what to do, how to behave. Even if he had a good reason. He could wait to find out that her bandhi were concealed under her kerchief. The kerchief would hide any sparkles, wouldn't it? And not catch fire?

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♥ Have you ever lost your temper with your partner then later realized that you'd jumped to conclusions instead of listening and asking questions? And maybe still been a little angry anyway? Regardless of whether you're sympathizing with Brialach or Deva here, is it a good idea for her to not tell him (yet) that she's wearing her bandhi under her kerchief?

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