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October 30 - November 2, 2023
His lips crashed into mine. The abruptness of that contact was too much. Everything he was feeling washed over me in a wave—frustration, determination, fear, anger, embarrassment, inadequacy. All of it. All hitting me in one painful collision of lips and teeth and tongue.
“Faraine,” I say, “may I ask an impertinent question?” She shoots me a quick glance from those strange eyes of hers. “Only if you can bear an impertinent answer.”
The Shadow King stands close to my father, so tall and solemn and beautiful. I’m suddenly reluctant to leave his vicinity. For the last few hours, I’ve luxuriated in the calm of his atmosphere, so inexplicable and so welcome. Now, parting from him, I reenter the world I’ve always known—a world of dissonance and pain. So, my gaze lingers. Longer than I should allow it to.
“I’m always careful.” “Ha!” Sul’s laugh is a sharp bark without mirth. “That may have been true enough up until recent history. But let’s face it, brother, behind that stony façade of yours lies the heart of a poet. You like the notion of sweeping that girl off her feet, and the two of you riding off into your own personal Ever After, a pair of gods-fated lovers and all that.”
“I do beg your pardon, good king. I don’t mean to be rude.” “Is it rude to be honest?” “Sometimes!” Now it’s my turn to smile. “A little honesty may indeed be the worst vulgarity around here. One must take care not to let the truth be too widely known.” Vor’s smile fades slowly. His expression grows thoughtful. “I see,” he says. “What do you see?” “You do not live at the convent because of your devotion to Nornala. You are the truth that must not be known.”
But now I taste longing. Not the stirrings of lust that every young man knows as he reaches a certain age. Not the unsettled discomfort in the blood that urges for action and adventure. No, this is true longing. An ache in the soul. A realization that my heart is not whole and won’t be until somehow, somewhere, I find that missing piece.
I’m not part of the inner life of the convent. I am not studying to take my vows; I remain apart from the hierarchies of the sisters. I attend prayers and services, always keeping well to the back of the chapel. My meals I take in private, and when cold drives me to the dayroom for warmth, I sit behind a little screen that offers at least some protection from the emotions seething around me.
If I’m honest, I would be happier knowing I wasn’t the only novice in the room, would prefer to learn such intimacies with my partner rather than live wondering how I compared to those who came before me.
With a little experience she would know that a relationship is better when leaving insecurities behind and trusting in their partners good judgment for wanting to be with them. Being different doesn't mean being less.
Our woman’s lot is hard. We must fight for everything we have. And the fight in the bedroom is the bitterest of all, for we cannot let them know how they wound us. But if we are clever, if we are skilled, if we learn and learn quickly, we may all be queens in our own right.”
Towering over everyone in the vicinity, she’s like some sensual warrior angel brought to life.
“Ilsevel, you are to be queen of my people. But you are also my queen. You and you alone shall guide and dictate your desires to me. It will be my honor to act accordingly.”
As our lips touch, I feel those doorways of spirit opening as everything inside his head and heart rushes to meet me.
Present here in this secret, private moment. My needs are mine alone, my desires selfishly overshadowing the cause of duty and kingdom.
He’s so patient, so slow, so careful. It’s maddening.

