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Chapter 2: time can't stop me quite like you did✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It was a rest day when she finally pulled out research she hadn't touched in decades.
Though right now, she had a reason to do it. A very good reason if she was completely honest.
Azriel was her reason.
He showed up on her doorstep, bruised and scratched to hell and there was nothing that she could do against it.
Patch him up and put him on her couch and ply him with food after an hour, and then some more food until most of it had healed and he had gone home. Even when she hadn't wanted him to.
But she hadn't been able to protect him.
And that stung
Mostly because it had been well known that Oriana had excelled at using her skills for protection.
That had been what she had concentrated on.
They made art, not war.
But Oriana…Oriana made protection.
Oriana fitted every child in her family with a personal enchanted bracelet. She had always just used them to alert the parents if the kid managed to get themselves into a bad situation.
But the start of it was there.
And then there was…her own necklace.
She touched the thumb thick gold metal necklace around her throat.
Her wedding necklace. It had been soldered around her throat when she had been 18 and she had never taken it off. Traditionally a female would wear it for the mourning period after her husband's death and then take it off. She hadn't.
She was still mourning.
At least as far as her people were concerned.
A very visible sign to everybody that Oriana wasn't available for anything other than friendship. Not even companionship. No sex without string attached.
And after Wynstan had died…Oriana had made that visible reminder of her marriage into something else entirely.
Wynstan would have hated it. She was certain about that. But she was also furious with him. And it was…fitting. In a way nobody but her would realise.
That necklace was fitted with her own enchantment.
It would keep any male from touching her in any way that she didn't want. It would keep her safe. And it would violently dispel anybody that disagreed with that.
She had only ever done that once. And she knew that it had been fucking suicidial to do it like she had done, etching in the runes, while it was around her neck. It could have blown up. She could have died.
She hadn't cared. Not one bit.
Now with a few decades of distance she knew how fundemantelly stupid it had been what she had done. It went against everything she had ever been taught.
And it was also the one and only time that Oriana had created something that she had willently imbued with the power to kill another person.
It wasn't…It wasn't what she should have done.
And still she had.
She had done that and she hadn't apologised or felt bad about it.
And now….
Now Oriana was playing with that thought again.
If she could make something that protected Azriel…something that would keep him safe…if it was something that…something that would kill his enemies, so he didn't need to be in danger…she would do so in a heartbeat.
But she hadn't worked on anything like that in decades and starting with something complicated was going to be…fundamentally stupid once again.
So she started small.
She was a trained goldsmith, but Oriana had spent a few year learning blacksmithing as well.
And she used both that day, as she sharpened the iron into blades.
Knifes and stiletto blades, still lovely, with stone encrusted hilts…more art than function…though the function was very obvious.
Azriel's shadows hung around as well. She sometimes saw them out of the corner of her eyes and it amused her more than anything to see them swirl around, freeze in place when they thought she saw them. They didn't even try to be subtle.
"I can see you, you know," she said drily, her voice amused besides herself. "Did Azriel put you up to it?" That thought did give her a warm glow. She quite liked to think that he checked up on her like that.
She couldn't help but flinch violently, when the voice was suddenly there. Like a hissing right in her brain. Not a real voice, not something that anybody else would hear, she was quite certain of that. But it was there, and she just knew that it was the shadows. A part of Azriel and then not a part at all. Both and neither at the same time.
No, Mistress. Master doesn't know we are here, they told her.
She was amused beside himself. Even when Azriel didn't outright check on her, a part of him was obviously still worried, enough that…well…His shadows did check on her. Even against their master's orders.
"And still here you are," she muttered on her breath, jsut as one tendril wrapped itself around her wrist again, seemingly sinking between the bunch of bangles she wore every day and she reached out, patting it fondly.
What is Mistress making? they asked her, another tendril seemingly investigating the knife that she was still holding in her hand.
"Knives," Oriana gave back drily.
For Master? Somehow that made them excited. They swirled together, poised like a dog that was just waiting for her to throw a ball. It amused Oriana to no end.
"Do you think he would like knives?" she asked his shadows, wondering. She had seen the knife that he kept strapped to his thigh, the one weapon that he wore openly and it made her wonder. Giving a warrior a weapon wouldn't be out of order, right? And still, she didn't think that Azriel, Azriel who seemed terrified of the idea of her being scared of him would like the idea of receiving something like that from her.
Maybe it would be less of a sign of acceptance to her and more something that made him think that being a warrior was all she saw in him. And it wasn't. It was just a small part of the male that she was getting to know and she didn't want to reduce him to that. It didn't seem fair. It wasn't fair.
Master would like anything Mistress makes. The shadows assured her, but Oriana just hummed uncommitingly. Maybe not a knife. Not at first…something else. She just wasn't sure what yet.
"Is he alright?" she asked the shadows instead. "You don't need to tell me where he is or what he is doing, just…is he alright?" she asked them and they seemingly hummed with pleasure.
Master is alright, they promised her.
Alright then.
"You can keep me company if you want?" she offered to the shadows. "But I need to solder, and I don't want to hurt you, so maybe move up my arm?" she suggested. She could swear she nearly felt the amusement from them as they wrapped herself around the necklace she wore instead.
Her two lives, intertwined.
She wasn't quite sure how she felt about it.
"Comfortable?" she made sure and they seemingly hummed with pleasure.
And that's where they stayed, while she soldered and continued on with her knifes.
Somebody is coming, Mistress, they said suddenly and their soft touch disappeared. She was quite sure that they bled into the shadows underneath her window, but she wasn't certain.
"Well, that's - practical, i guess," she mumbled under her breath.
Just seconds later she felt the ward pinged. A smile took over her face.
"Well, hello there, little sister," her older brother said as he came strolling into the forge.
While she had inherited the creepy eyes and a few wisps of shadows that clung to her legs sometimes, Cyrus seemingly had taken every bit the look of a High Fae. No shadows, no creepy eyes…but also absolutely no protection against fire. Oriana could walk through it. She could touch it with her bare hands like every other proper Tartera. Cyrus would just get burns for his troubles.
So maybe it shouldn't have surprised anybody that he had left the mountain as soon as he was able, while she had been willing to play the role she needed to play.
Still, they were both half breeds, half Tartera, half High Fae…out of touch with both worlds and belonging to neither in a sense. "Haven't seen you in a while," Cyrus quipped as he sat down across from her, watching her work.
"It has been less than a week," she gave back drily. "Literally. How is Briony?" Her sister-in-law was High Fae, dark-haired with pale skin and beautiful. Cyrus had been a mess when he had first met her and somehow he had convinced her to marry him. Oriana still sometimes wondered how exactly he had managed that.
"She's good. The kids are good too," her brother answered the unspoken question. "But.." he trailed off with a pointed look.
"But?" she repeated absentmindedly, grabbing a rag and finally starting to polish one of the knives she had made. It looked…well. Not perfect, but then she had always been her own sharpest critic. However, for something that she hadn't done in decades…she was chalking this up as a win.
"You want to tell what is going on?" Cyrus asked drily.
"Nothing," she responded deadpan. Nothing that he needed to know at any rate. It was better that way.
"Don't lie to me, Oriana," Cyrus gave back with a roll of his eyes. "I know you better than that."
He did.
"Are you sure you want to know?" she asked him instead, laying down her knife to meet his eyes. "If you know, you can't tell our sibling. Or Mom. Or grandma," she warned him tightly.
She wasn't ready for everybody to know. Especially because she knew that whatever she did, she would have her scandal.
Oriana Belmond, Third daughter of the First daughter, mated to an Illyrian warrior of all people.
Her grandmother would have opinions.
Her mother would have a bloody conniption.
"Well, now I am intrigued," Cyrus said drily. "You haven't told me that in decades. The last time was when you wanted to leave the mountain." Right.
When she had put her whole family in front of a fait accomplice. Well, it had worked.
Her mother had not been on board with it. Then she had thought that she was just throwing a tantrum. Close to a century later, that was still what her mother thought, completely ignoring that Oriana had built herself a life out of the mountain, right here in Velaris.
She just shrugged.
Cyrus hummed.
"Alright," he agreed. "I swear that I won't tell anybody what you just told me unless a tie where you are certain that you want it known," he offered. She was the one who sealed the bargain, promising to tell him exactly what was going on. "So what is going on?" Cyrus asked her. "Wanting to go back into the mountain?" he asked her. He very carefully kept the judgement out of his voice, even when Oriana knew exactly what he thought about that.
"Not in my lifetime," she said drily. For a visit, sure. Back to living there? Never. "I…I met my mate," she admitted quietly,
Cyrus stared at her, opening his mouth to response and then stayed quiet. She picked up her knife again, checking on her work. "You…" Cyrus started, then stopped. "Alright. That's…" he stared at her hands for a moment before he sighed. "Oriana."
"Yes?"
"You met your mate and you are making knives," Cyrus pointed out, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "What is really going on?"
"That's it. I met my mate," Oriana repeated. "I met him, Cyrus."
"And what happened to him that makes you think that you need to take up blacksmithing? Again?" he asked her drily. She said nothing. "What's next? Are you going to start to go back to…" when she said nothing, again, Cyrus just stared at her. "You are," he finally said flatly.
"It's what I was trained for," she gave back, crossing her arms. "I can't spent the rest of my life making useless earrings and bracelets."
"They aren't useless, they are beautiful," Cyrus disagreed sharply. "They are works of art. And we both know why you stopped being an enchantress in the first place."
She couldn't help but flinch.
"Don't bring that up," she said tightly. It wasn't…It wasn't so much a sore spot as it was a gaping wound.
"Don't bring that up?" Cyrus asked incrediously. "You nearly died!" he snapped.
Right.
Ruby red blood trickling down her body. Spearing Pain in her stomach…Fire everywhere…the sound of an explosion…of magic escaping the prison it had been forced into. It was marked into her brain and Oriana could do nothing to escape it.
She saw it all.
She swallowed. Locking her memories back down. Forcing her hands not to start shaking.
"That was all on Wynstan," she said quietly.
"Yeah, it fucking well was," Cyrus agreed sharply. "It was on Wynstan and it was on Mom. It was on Grandmother. It was on everybody but you, Oriana. Still…it happened. It wasn't on you, but you don't exactly have the best track record with males." She didn't disagree with that.
"And you also don't have the best track record of knowing when to cut your losses," Cyrus continued, fixing her with a glare.
Her hand strayed to her necklace.
"You are still wearing it," Cyrus pointed out his voice soft. "Why?"
She said nothing.
Cyrus didn't know about the enchantment on it. Neither did her mother. Or anybody else. Nobody else knew what she had done.
Nobody else knew that she couldn't just pry it off like it was usually done with wedding necklaces after the mourning period.
Nobody but her.
If she wanted to remove it…it wasn't that easy to achieve. Not if she actually wanted to survive it.
And she still didn't know if she wanted to remove it. The enchantment? She could live with that. Before Azriel showed up on her doorstep it had not been anything she had ever really worried about. It wasn't that she had a whole handful of suitors vying for her hand after all. And the few that had shown up over the years…well they had been nice enough to accept that she wasn't very receptive to it.
Still, the fact that she still wore her wedding necklace even when Wynstan was by now longer dead than he had ever been alive…Yeah. Yes, she wanted that off her.
But recreating the enchantment she had made when she had been out of her mind with grief and trauma and pain…
it was something else entirely.
The ward pinged and she felt Azriel enter the shop. She had very carefully altered her ward so that he would always be able to walk into her front door which wasn't exactly something that she allowed to lots of people. Namely Cyrus and Briony and that was it.
She allowed him that though.
Still, she swallowed as he entered and caught sight of her and her brother's broad back.
"I…I brought lunch?" Azriel brought out, caught aback and Oriana smiled at him.
"Thank you."
Her brother turned around and Oriana watched as he took in Azriel.
Great. She hadn't wanted that to happen until…well.
"Cyrus, that's Azriel. My mate," Oriana said calmly as she left the forge to walk into her shop room, greeting Azriel with a bright smile that she wasn't really feeling. "Azriel, Cyrus, my brother."
Neither of them spoke.
"Nice to meet you," Cyrus finally said, his voice carefully even and Oriana wanted to roll her eyes at the posturing of both, of Azriel's wings twitching like he was thinking about actually flaring them out and decided against it.
Great. This is just what she needed.
Instead, she picked up the bag of food he had brought with him, kept warm in a specially made warming bag
"Likewise," Azriel finally responded, his voice quiet.
"Let's go upstairs. I need to interrogate your mate," Cyrus said abruptly and Oriana glared at him.
"Cyrus," she hissed at him, but her brother ignored her in favour of already climbing the stairs to her apartment.
"Let's hope he's less of an asshole than the last one!" Cyrus called from upstairs and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Sorry, about that," she apologised to Azriel. "I didn't know you were going to come over before this evening or I would have warned you," she said drily. Azriel shook his head.
"No, I should have used my shadows to check that you were alone first. That was on me," he disagreed. "Did your brother mean Wynstan with that?" he asked, sounding something like morbidly curious and Oriana sighed.
"Yes. Yes, he does." Well, she wasn't going to get out of it now. "Seems like you are going to get an introduction to my family earlier rather than later. You coming?" she asked as she turned to walk up the stairs.
To say that lunch was an awkward thing was an understatement. It wasn't helped that Azriel had gone nearly completely mute and she was left playing mediator, between a ruffled Cyrus and a near-silent Azriel.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Cyrus finally commented and Oriana opened her mouth to respond but Azriel beat her to it.
"If I have something to say," he said calmly and Oriana bit back some amusement at her brother's face, who looked like he had just bitten into a lemon.
"Cyrus," she said quietly, but her brother just crossed her arms, still glaring at Azriel. "Cyrus."
"You are Illyrian," Cyrus said with a pointed look to the wings that Azriel kept tucked close to himself.
There was a part of Oriana that really wished she would get to see them stretched out, that wondered how big they were like that…how it looked when he actually went flying and if…if the near iridescent leathery skiing that stretched between bones was soft to the touch.
But she also hadn't dared to ask because that just seemed like something intensely private.
Still, Azriel nodded.
"I do know how the lot of you treat your females. If you even think about treating Oriana anything like that I am going to kill you," her brother then spat out and Oriana swallowed.
Right.
"Cyrus," she said quietly. "He hasn't done anything."
Her brother just held up his hand. "Forgive me, if I don't exactly trust your word on that after what happened the last time," Cyrus pointed out, his voice cutting.
She couldn't help but flinch.
"I am serious," Cyrus insisted. "And don't even think you are going to see me coming."
Azriel inclined his head. A tacit agreement if there ever was one.
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He had been really, really stupid.
Because in all of his…thoughts about Oriana and her own admission that she had her own set of scars, he had never even thought about the fact that Oriana had her own trauma.
It hadn't even crossed his mind, until he first met her brother.
They did look alike, with the same big eyes, the same nose, though Oriana seemed to have inherited more of the Tartera characteristics
Still, it was obvious that her brother had a very good reason to feel protective over her and it all tied back to her husband.
Oriana herself had said that he had been a better friend than a husband but Azriel had never even thought about what exactly she meant with that.
"I am so sorry," Oriana apologised to him with a grimace when Cyrus finally left, but not with another glare thrown in Azriel's direction. He could understand that. The way females were treated in Illyrian war camps was abhorrent. His own mother had been one of them. And even when Rhys had outlawed Wing Clippings as soon as he had come into power…it wasn't like everybody listened to their High Lord, which was another problem entirely.
A problem that they still hadn't found a solution for.
"You don't need to apologise," Azriel disagreed, watching as her brother left. "He's protective about you. He's your brother. I understand that."
"He's overprotective, that's what he is," Oriana disagreed with a sigh. "I…We should have probably talked about this before. I told him that we were mates, but we made a bargain that he isn't going to tell anybody until it was a time when I am ready," she explained to him and his eyebrows lifted when he realised that she had done everything in her power to keep them both safe. He hadn't expected her to even think about it.
"You are good at keeping secrets," he said fondly and Oriana shrugged.
"I am not ready to tell my family and have them build themselves an opinion about it. Not until we have figured out where we stand," she told him. He could understand that. He didn't want to tell anybody yet. He kept any thought of Oriana locked away between the thickest mental shields he had ever been able to build.
Keeping her safe and far removed from anything and anybody.
"But you are ready for Cyrus to know?" he asked her curiously and she sighed.
"He's special to me," she admitted. "We are close in age, just a few years apart…we both know how it is to not belong anywhere really," she explained quietly. Azriel could understand that.
He hummed in agreement.
"Are you going to tell your brothers?" she asked him, curious, but with no judgement in her voice.
"No. Not…not right now," he struggled to bring out these words. He didn't want anybody to know. He wanted to keep it as close to his chest as he had ever been able to keep anything and he knew that that was ridiculous and that it wasn't going to…always be that easy. And he didn't even want to imagine the reaction when he finally did. "I am not ready for them to know."
"Alright," she agreed, reaching out to hold his hands across the table. He slipped his bigger one into her smaller one, her skin warm to the touch. She smiled at him.
"Thank you for lunch," she said softly, eyes soft, no flames anywhere to see. "Sorry for destroying your romantic plans with my brother."
He couldn't help but laugh. "That's alright," he promised her. It was. There were going to be more lunches if he had his way.
They went back downstairs into the forge not much later. By now, Oriana had somehow acquired a chair that accommodated his wings and put it in one corner, obviously making a space for him there and…somehow that quiet, unspoken act of acceptance made his chest painfully constrict.
"What are you working on right now?" he asked her because he couldn't quite put it into words and he needed to talk about something else so he wasn't going to do anything stupid. Like, kiss her right then and there.
"Knives," Oriana said brightly, holding out a knife to him, hilt first. It was definitely one of the prettiest knives he had ever seen. Very ornamental, with wavy lines, a bit like vines growing up the hilt.
"Somebody told me that you would enjoy them," she said with some amusement and he stared at her. What?
"Your shadows. They came to visit," Oriana clarified at the expression on his face. "Told me that whatever I made you would like it," she said with some amusement and he just stared at her.
What?
Never in his life had his shadows ever talked to anybody but him. He didn't even know that they could if they wanted to. He had used them to secure knowledge and to torture people…but he had never sent them to talk to another person. He had never even thought that they would do that, because nobody else could hear them when they talked to him but Azriel himself.
And now they…talked to Oriana? Had a conversation with her?
"They talked to you," he repeated, ensuring he understood that correctly.
Talking. To her. To Oriana.
"Yes?" Oriana said questioningly. "Is that wrong? Should I not have talked to them?" she asked him, sounding worried but he just weakly shook his head.
"No, it's…fine." He grimaced at how that sounded. "They just…don't do that. Have never done that," he hurried to explain. "I didn't even know they could do that," he admitted weakly.
"Huh," Oriana made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. "Do you think it's because I am…your mate?" she asked him hesitantly.
"I have no clue," he admitted frankly. It was as good a theory as any other. Probably the one that made the most sense.
What is this about? He asked them sharply and the shadows seemed to be doing the mental equivalent of a shrug.
Mistress is intelligent. We are not going to ignore her questions. They responded immediately.
Right.
Fair enough. Remember to keep my secrets. He gave back. It resulted in a sharp pulling back of them, rushing to wrap themselves around Oriana's wrists and even around her neck.
He could just stare. She didn't even flinch as they threaded themselves through the necklace she wore.
"You hurt their feelings," Oriana said drily and he just stared at her.
What?
"Are you getting that from them?" he asked her and she shrugged as she lifted her hand to pat the tendril that was wrapped around her neck gently. It flexed and shifted like it was a snake that enjoyed being petted. He just sighed. "Do you really want me to apologise to my shadows?" he asked her, not thinking that she was serious but she nodded.
"Shadows have feelings too," she told him pointedly and he sighed. He could argue that point.
"I am sorry," he said instead, aloud, more for her benefit than for the shadows. They seemed more amused by her antics than anything else.
Oriana reached out to flick his nose. He couldn't help but grin, grasping her hand and tucking her close to him, breathing in that scent of hers that was like a warm hearth on a winter day.
He watched as the flames danced in her eyes, no longer the pure black that was always a bit disconcerting to look at, but the flames that he was sure were her natural state.
He hadn't really thought this too though, because now she was so close to him and he could feel the warmth of her boy and it felt…a lot.
"So that was all that you made?" he managed to bring out, swallowing and she shook her head.
"No, I made something else as well," she agreed. "You know how some females put these pin..sticks in their hairstyles?" she asked him and he nodded. He had seen that a few times, holding in place some sort of updos.
She pulled a pair of them from her workbench, that made the knife she had made look like a toddler had made it. The tiny details on it were… incredible. They weren't finished yet, he could see it…they seemed to need something else, maybe the addition of some stones, as settings were already soldered on.
Still, the last thing he had expected was for her to slowly unscrew the cap and pull out a stiletto blade, that she offered him.
He stared at it. Lightly curved and silver. Stabbing something with that would be…painful. And nobody would ever think that ornamental hair decorations were anything but that.
"Beautiful and deadly," he said softly. "You are a genius," he told her, and she preened at his praise. He stared at them for a moment longer. "When you are finished with them, can I buy them?" he asked her and she grinned at him.
"Why? Do you have many pretty females to hand deliver gifts to?" she teased him and he swallowed. Right.
"I…" he stuttered. "It's for my brother's mate," he rushed to explain and she laughed.
"I was just teasing," Oriana told him fondly. "Any colour preferences for the stones that I still need to add?" she asked him, stepping back as she started to rummage through a couple of boxes that she kept underneath her workbench.
"Red," he said immediately. She arched an eyebrow at him in question. "It matches his Siphons," he explained and she hummed as she selected one box in particular and then pulled out a smaller box from it, filled to the top with red stones in every shade, which she placed on her workbench.
"So…" she said, turning towards him, a grin slowly covering her face."Should I start stockpiling blue gems for myself?"
The sudden stab of desire was so visceral that it took Azriel by complete surprise.
His hands curled into fists on top of the workbench as he suddenly couldn't stop himself from imagining how Oriana would look if wore stones in the same colour of his siphons set into something like the necklace she wore…and nothing else. He swallowed against a sudden dry mouth.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" she asked him, a tinkling of laughter in her voice as she stepped into his space, without a care in the world.
He still expected her to flinch from him, but she didn't. She was so close to him, the flames flicking in her eyes and he was quite sure that that was the moment when he fell in love with her like a ton of bricks.
The first clues had already been there, for that female that took him home with her and fed him dinner, that patched him up and forced him to eat sandwiches she made, that was so clever and so kind and seemingly didn't realise that she was either. Or maybe took it for granted. That treated him like he was just another fae that she met and wasn't scared of him for even a moment.
He could just stare at her, a little bit in awe.
"Would you?" he asked her, allowing his hands to settle on her hips and her lips broadened into a smile. Would she wear that?
"I think I would enjoy everything that makes it obvious that I am yours," she whispered.
He kissed her. He couldn't stop himself. The heat that ran through him as his lips first met hers was terrifying and exhilarating and a little bit magical.
She opened up underneath him, a soft shocked gasp escaping her, just as her hands clenched in the fabric of the jacket he wore, as she pulled him as close to her as she could.
He should stop. He knew that. He should have made their first kiss a chaste peck and left it at that, but he just…couldn't. He couldn't stop, not when her taste and her scent and every bit of her warm willing body was promising to be his solace.
Finally, finally, he managed to force himself to pull back to lean his forehead against hers, to look into her eyes, flames flicking at him.
"Seems like I got my answer," he quipped. He had no idea where that came from, but the shocked laugh that escaped her, made him grin.
She leaned up to kiss him again, twining her hands behind his neck.
"You did," she agreed. "I'll go and find myself some blue gems." There was a heady promise in her voice at that.
And somehow he couldn't wait for it.
Still, she stepped back, picking up the hairpins she had been making before he had interrupted her so rudely and started to sort through her box of red gems.
He picked up the first knife that she had made, testing the weight of it in his hand. The size was off, just a little bit. He wasn't quite sure if it would fit her hands comfortably.
"Do you know how to use it?" he asked her, mustering her body with less appreciation and more trying to figure out if she was trained in self-defence.
She should be. She definitely should be. She needed to know how to defend herself because he wasn't always going to be there to protect her and if something happened to her it would be…
He didn't want to imagine that.
Especially if he could rectify it.
She was quite tall, probably even taller than Nesta, though her body definitely was on the curvier side, with a pronounced waist and full hips.
She stared at him like he had gone insane. "See, that is the blade…" she started, amusement apparent in her voice.
He shook his head. "Do you know how to defend yourself?" he clarified.
"The pointy bit goes into the other person," she quipped, though she grew serious at his gaze. "You know, throwing fire at another person seems to be quite the good way to stop them to do anything else to me," she said, serious. "And if that fails…well, at least against most men, I have something else." He raised an eyebrow at that. "I have a…personal enchantment of sorts," Oriana explained, her lips set firmly.
He had never heard of that.
"It's…if anybody touches me with intent to…sexually assault me or rape me, they will be more and more violently repelled," she told him and he stared at her.
"I have never heard of anything like that," Azriel said carefully. It was…it would be safe. In a lot of ways. If that could be replicated, he was quite sure he would put that on every female he knew. Just for peace of mind.
"Because you must be idiotic to do it," Oriana spat out. "Crafting it is stupidly dangerous."
She didn't need to say anything else. He could read between the lines.
"You made it," he said softly and she just nodded, setting a bright red stone in the tops of her hairpins. "What happened that made you…"
"Think I needed it?" she ended his sentence with a sigh, her anger dissipating already. "Wynstan died." Her husband. "I wasn't about to be put into another arranged marriage, so I did what I thought I had to. In the end, putting one of my suitors on fire was enough, but I preferred to be safe," she said darkly.
The anger that welled up in him at that was…harsh. "They were planning on that?" he asked, his voice gravelly.
"They had their reasons," Oriana said, waving him off. He could just stare at her.
"What could possibly be a reason for it?" He snapped.
She laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound.
"The same reason why I was married off in the first place, Azriel. Political Maneuvring," she said easily. "It could have been worse. Then, Wynstan was my best friend."
He opened his mouth to respond, but finally swallowed it out. Something did tickle at the edges of his brain though. Then, Wynstand had been her best friend. Had that changed during the course of their marriage?
"So you wear that enchantment," he said instead and she nodded. "How does it work?" he asked her curiously.
"It's intent-based. I wouldn't suggest putting your hands on me if you are angry," Oriana explained. "Or doing more than kissing me, at least until I have restructured it," she mumbled under her breath.
Oh.
"It's a chastity device?" he asked her and she grimaced.
"Of sorts," she allowed finally. "There is a price to pay for this kind of protection." He didn't doubt that for one moment.
"It didn't do anything to me right now," he said carefully and Oriana sighed.
"You didn't want to do anything but kiss me," she pointed out. "And I wanted you to kiss me. So the enchantment didn't need to do anything."
"And if you didn't want me to kiss you?" he asked her curiously. She grimaced.
"You would have been shoved away…and then more and more violently repelled. If that didn't stop you… you probably would lose a limb. Or your life," she admitted, sounding less than pleased with it.
"That's…genius," he said with wonder. It wasn't like it would immediately go in for the kill. It would give ample warning. And really if somebody didn't top after the first time they could live with the consequences.
"You think limb removal is good?" Oriana asked him with a snort and Azriel just shrugged.
"If they don't want to lose their hand, they should learn to keep their hands to themselves."