Summary: Cazaril and Betriz experience wedded bliss.
A tentative knock woke Cazaril from a doze. He hurriedly threw on his dressing gown. Surely, the royina would not have him disturbed on this morning of all mornings unless it were a matter of some urgency.
When he reached the door of the antechamber that adjoined the sleeping area, he cracked it open to see a young page. "Com-compliments of the royina and royse-consort, my lord Chancellor." He held out a tray with slightly trembling hands. The boy was obviously terrified, probably in part due to the greatly exaggerated rumors of his late miracles.
He accepted the tray and dismissed the boy with a request to send his gratitude to his masters. He trod back to the bed and set the gift on a nearby table. It appeared to be filled with all the rich delicacies that the Zangre kitchens could supply, miniature tarts filled with almond paste, chocolate covered fruits, sweet rolls of every description. He thought of sampling a few, but the greater temptation of Betriz's sleeping form drew him back between the sheets. She rolled into him as he settled himself and mumbled something indistinguishable but did not wake further.
He draped an arm over her, careful not to disturb her slumber. He reflected on the softness of her skin. Great odes could be written to that feature. Unfortunately, she had banned him—only half-jokingly—from writing any more poems about her body parts.
Anyway, he much preferred the way that he had paid tribute to her last night. The memories threatened to send him into a spell of delighted giggling, or weeping. However, he controlled himself. He didn't want to frighten his new bride after all. His recent happiness still felt so fragile that he dared not make one misstep for fear of losing…everything.
Eventually, Betriz did awake. She smiled at him almost shyly and stretched her limbs. "Was someone at the door earlier? Iselle doesn't need you today, does she?"
"No, she doesn't. But she and Bergon had a breakfast tray delivered." He brought it over and laid it on the bed between them. She admired the little tarts and chose an orange-colored one to taste first.
"Good. Else I would have had to have words with her about stealing my husband the morning after our wedding." She glanced at him coyly from under her lashes before resuming her examination of the tray. "Mmm. I'm famished." She proved her statement by selecting two more treats in quick succession. "Have you tried some of these? They're delicious." He took a fruit tart, and it was indeed tasty.
They ate happily for several more minutes when Betriz held up a particularly ripe berry and offered to pop it into his mouth. He held her hand where it lingered on his lips and licked the remaining juice from her fingers. She flushed, but she did not pull away. In fact, her features brightened and she glowed.
He reciprocated her gesture and fed her one of the almond paste tarts that she seemed to be favoring. When they kissed a minute later, sweetness lingered in their mouths. But it was nowhere near as sweet as having this woman with him. He tilted her head back so that he could kiss her more deeply. Soon, the sensations overwhelmed both of them. Somehow, the platter ended up on the floor; fortunately, there were only a few pieces left. But Cazaril and Betriz were occupied with each other and paid it no mind.