The Shining Falcon

She shot him a grateful look, whispering back, «But how? They'll all want to see us to—to our bed and…»

Finist heard the quaver in her voice, and said firmly, «They'll just have to be disappointed. Watch.»

Delicately, feeling the force of Power bubbling up within him as though he'd drunk too much of that heady wine, the prince built up a haze of illusion about them. It wasn't the neatest spell he'd ever worked; Finist was tired from the long day, too. In fact, it probably wouldn't have fooled a sober soul for a moment. But by this point, none of the guests‑including Danilo, who was trying with ever fading coherency to explain his views on magic to an owl-eyed, beaming Semyon—were even remotely sober. Finist grinned. The haze should be just enough to confuse drink-befuddled sight even more! He caught Maria's hand and peeled her carefully away from the delicate illusion, leaving behind two smoky, almost solid images of themselves.

«Beautiful!» giggled Maria in his ear.

«Shh! Mustn't let them realize where we're going.»

Fighting down laughter, Finist and Maria tiptoed off, hand in hand, for all the world like two errant children, stealing up stairways and down corridors till at last they were safely behind the doors of Finist's private chambers.

«There, now! Home at last," the prince managed to get out, and then he and Maria were bursting into gusts of helpless laughter.

«They—they'll never forgive us!» gasped Maria.

«I suppose not!»

But as he looked at her, at his wife, Finist felt his laughter fade. Maria turned to him, eyes wide, and for a moment, dazed and wondering, they stared, quite speechless, at each other.

Overwhelmed by a sudden hot rush of love and desire, Finist murmured, «Akh, Maria, come. No one will disturb us now.»

Hand in hand, they entered the bridal chamber. Servants had been here before them, had strewn the floor with flowers and sweet-scented herbs. Herbs for good fortune, realized Finist, for fertility. He heard Maria give a little gasp as the implication of those herbs dawned on her. She pulled her hand from his and turned away, trembling, and he thought in pity, She's frightened.

He would be gentle. He would use every bit of his love and his magic to ease the way for her, and—

A sharp, half-stifled little oath startled him. «Ah, Maria?»

She turned a flushed face to him. «I wanted to be bold and—and daring for you, and let these robes just—fall where they would. But I can't get these d-damned laces open!»

He burst into laughter again, and after a moment, she joined him. Finist struggled with the stubborn knots, the warmth of her flesh beneath his hands feeding his impatience till at last he cried:

«Akh, enough of this!»

A surge of Power sent bridal finery flying from them both. Maria gasped again, reddening, but stood facing him for a moment before shyness sent her scuttling for the shelter of the bedclothes. Finist stared after her in sheer, joyous wonder. Deep within him, he realized now, there'd been the lingering fear that the memory of Ljuba might come cruelly between them. Now that fear seemed so foolish. Ljuba's golden loveliness had been too perfect, sterile. Maria was full-breasted, full-hipped, all that was womanly, all that was warm, living, happy beauty.

«Oh, my love," he breathed, «my heart, my life!»

For all that she continued to blush fiercely—with a surge of new delight Finist watched the spread of that blush down between those charming breasts‑Maria's eyes never left him, caressing the length of him. And all at once she gave a delightful little chuckle.

«Finist, love, you're going to catch a chill standing there like that. Do come to bed.»

Grinning like a fool, he obeyed. The touch of her skin, satin-smooth against his, sent desire raging like wildfire through him, racing from his mind to hers and back again in a sudden wonder of shared love and need: the psychic link they'd shared before would now, it seemed, grant them an added, unexpected delight.

Unless this last bit of strangeness was just too strange for Maria? For a moment the linking quivered and threatened to fall.

But then:

«Oh, I do pity women with mundane mates," said Maria smugly.

Finist gave a joyous laugh, and pulled her to him.