Aradin could feel Teral’s sub-thought urge to kiss her. Acceding to her wishes, he leaned in and did it himself . . . but opened up his thoughts and sub-thoughts to his Guide so the older Witch could experience everything freely. The soft warmth of her lips, the slight hint of raisins and almonds in their taste, and the feel of her curves as she shifted to press her body against his . . . (Glorious,) Teral breathed into both their minds. (Beautiful, and glorious . . . and even a bit “magnificent.”)
Reminded of Aradin’s comparison of her legs to the thettis-vine mutation, Saleria broke the kiss with a chuckle. She stepped back from Aradin, moving toward the moss-covered ground. “Come here, both of you,” she told the man in front of her, “and help me recreate the wedding nights of both our Gods and Goddesses.”
Host and Guide stilled. Teral recovered first, since he wasn’t confused by her double-meaning. (I, ah, told her about the wedding-gift of the Moons to our God and Goddess . . . but I don’t think she meant it that way.)
(I didn’t think so, either.) Out loud, Aradin cautiously stated, “As lovely as that suggestion is . . . first of all, you said you wanted only me to make love with you this time, and just let Teral watch. And second of all, both Brother and Sister Moon have to be up in the sky. You can only have one of me right now, even if that was your intent.”
Saleria blushed bright red at his blunt reminders. “I, er . . . that is . . .” She cleared her throat. “Ahh . . . one little step at a time, alright? I’m not sure . . . I’m, um . . . oh, bollocks,” Saleria muttered, still blushing. “Maybe—maybe—one day, but right now . . .”
“You’re not sure at this point if you could,” Aradin finished for her, pushing away from the table to join her. Catching her hand, he continued on toward the mossy sward at the heart of the Bower. “Don’t worry; neither of us are offended, either way. In fact, we both consider it an honor that you’re willing to let Teral enjoy the moment secondhand. But as it is my moment . . . my deepest wish is for you to enjoy this moment.”
Allowing herself to be tugged in his wake, Saleria stopped with him at the edge of the ragged circle and started removing her clothes. To her surprise, he didn’t shrug out of his Witchcloak; instead, he pulled the folds around his body, hiding his clothes for as long as it took her to unfasten her priestly gown and pull it over her head. Once clear, she glanced his way again, expecting him to begin disrobing.
Instead, he let the front edges of the Witchcloak drape open to either side, revealing his now nude, lean frame. Saleria pouted, gown half-folded in her hands. “That’s not fair. You can get dressed and undressed in the Dark, too?”
“With Teral’s assistance, yes,” Aradin admitted, flashing her a smile. “He just hasn’t been around to help put my clothes away until now.”
She pout-scowled. “Definitely not fair.”
Grinning, he gently took her robe from her and stuffed it up the broad, black-lined interior of one sleeve. It started pulling itself in on its own accord at about the halfway point, or rather, under his unseen Guide’s touch. He took the other garments she removed, too; her underthings, socks, even her boots, then removed the Witchcloak once they were stored and neatly folded it. Setting it on the cobblestone path circling the prayer-moss, the Darkhanan Witch gently tugged her into his arms and kissed her forehead.
“As many drawbacks as there may be to sharing one’s life with another soul, there are some nice advantages to compensate,” he admitted, holding her close. “It’s not the life I originally envisioned for myself . . . but it has led me here to you.”
“And the Grove,” Saleria agreed.
“And you,” Aradin asserted, hugging her. “I can find a gardening job anywhere in the world. Easier ones, for sure. But you are unique and special, Saleria, and I . . .”
(Not easy to say the words, is it?) Teral sympathized privately.
(I can think them just fine, as you well know,) he muttered mentally. (I just don’t want to mess this up when I ask her to be my wife.)
Teral snorted. (Tell her, then show her, and you’ll be fine.)
“I love you,” Saleria said.
Aradin blinked, staring at Saleria. She hugged him and repeated herself.
“I love you, Aradin. I love Teral in there, too. And I want enough of this Grove fixed fast enough that we can be the first mortal marriage celebrated in here,” she added, pulling back just enough to poke a finger into his naked chest, “so cleaning it up had better not take fifty years.”
“Yes, my love,” he agreed, gently catching her hand. He drew her finger to his lips, kissing it. “I—we—love you deeply, too. And it would be our joy to be your husband for as long as we all shall live, if that is your desire.”