Magic of Life: The Wedding

A knock on the door echoed through the small bedroom before a man’s voice said, “Sir, I have your breakfast.”

I groaned as Albus opened the curtains and sunlight poured in. I threw my arm over my eyes, feeling the aches in my body cling to my joints. Slowly, I sat up, pulling the blanket around my hips and keeping my left eye shut. Albus placed a tray on the bedside table before stepping back.

“What is this?” I questioned, picking up an envelope from beside my plate.

“A messenger brought it this morning from the capital,” replied Albus. I ground my teeth together as I saw the golden wax seal of my father.

“Fuck.” I tossed the letter onto the bed before shoveling eggs and bacon into my mouth.

“Shall I grab your prosthesis, sir?”

“No, my skin needs a day.”

“Shall I fetch a healer for you?”

I paused, glancing at my left shoulder. Only the upper portion of the humerus was there. The scars were swollen and skin raw. Without looking at Albus I said, “Bring me Heather.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, walking through the door.

I called after him, “Make sure no one comes for an hour.” He closed the bedroom door and I worked on finishing my breakfast.

I was drinking my coffee when a young woman stepped into my bedroom. She smiled and walked up to me, placing her hands on my cheeks and saying, “You look like you’ve seen better days, Atticus.”

I chuckled, knowing my body was covered in bruises and scrapes. I replied, “Give me a few days and some TLC and I’ll be fine.”

Heather raised an eyebrow before placing her satchel on the bed. “Did you even take your arm off at all while you were on patrol?”

“To bathe.”

She grabbed my stump and my hand fisted in the sheets against the pain. “You need to take better care of yourself. Or take Albus with you, since you only listen to him.” She dampened a cloth with clear alcohol before wiping the wounds. “What no sparks or sizzles?”

“I’m completely drained,” I hissed between breaths. “There was a large earth beast along the coast.”

“Maybe you should let your soldiers do their jobs instead of putting yourself on the frontline,” said Heather with amused sarcasm. She applied ointments that smelled minty along with other floral scents. “You shouldn’t put your arm back on until this all heals.”

“So you’ll be coming by daily till it heals,” I murmured, tipping my head with an innocent smile. She glared at me.

“No, some of the other healers will see to you. It’s good practice for working on a brute.”

I cracked open my left eye and saw the electrical aura around her pulsing with shades of pink. Heather bandaged my stump going over my shoulder. When she was done, I pulled her onto my lap, holding her back against my chest. Running my nose along her neck, I whispered, “I think you’d miss this brute.”

“You’d find someone to play with,” she replied, reaching up and putting her arms around my head. Being over a foot taller than her, I could see down her shirt to her small rounded breasts.

“But I prefer playing with you.” I slipped my hand under her shirt, trailing my fingers over her stomach. Lean muscles, a soldier’s body. I kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipple. She pressed against me and moaned softly. Her head lolled to one side as I kissed her neck.

“A letter?” she asked.

I blinked, forcing blood to reroute to my brain. I glanced at the envelope she had picked up from the end of my bed and my body tensed.

“It’s from the king,” she murmured, “and you haven’t opened it.” She turned her head, looking up at me. “Do you want me to read it and tell you if it’s important?”

“Can I continue where I was?” I asked, wanting to forget the letter and my body’s exhaustion.

Heather nodded and I went back to kissing her neck and feeling her breasts. I ignored the sound of the wax seal breaking and the rustle of paper. I nuzzled her hair to one side and licked her exposed spine. She shuddered and I savored the sweetness of her skin. I latched onto the muscle of her neck and she swatted at me.

“No hickies,” she ordered. I growled in protest and continued kissing her.

I ran my hand down the plane of her stomach and to her skirt’s hem. Slipping my fingers under, I whispered in her ear, “You should put that down and -”

“Atticus,” gasped Heather, jolting out of my lap. I stared after her, confused. “You’re to get married.”

It took a few seconds for my brain to process her statement and when it didn’t all I could ask was, “What?”

“Look,” insisted Heather, holding out the paper to me. “Last paragraph.”

I took the letter and read:

Communication with Nature’s Crest has finally led to an alliance. They will send us their Heir Priestess in exchange for our withdrawal from the border. In order to solidify this arrangement, a marriage will occur between our family and this priestess. The High Priestess only agreed to this if you are to be the groom. You have two months till the wedding. Don’t be late.

I stared at the letter, a torrent of emotions and thoughts running through my head. The paper fell from my hand and I looked up at Heather. She was holding her hands and pressing her lips together.

“Fuck,” I breathed, feeling anger at my father make bile rise in my throat. “Get out.”

Heather nodded and quickly grabbed her satchel. With her hand on the doorknob, she looked back at me. Her mouth opened, but then she nodded again before leaving.

I rubbed my eyes and laid back. The sunlight warmed my skin and I could feel my heart thumping against my chest. I ran my hand over my face feeling the rigid scarring of my left cheek and brow. Morbidly, I laughed at the thought, The girl is going to be terrified when she sees me.