Luther's Pride Part 43

With the twilight came the bustle of the preparations for the battle at dawn. The Le Fey Manor buzzed with activity and anticipation as the servants set about their duties. None of them wished to disturb the library, so it fell to their leader to do so and risk their employer’s wrath. Even Luther’s wives had gathered by the library doors, discussing which of them should be the first to disturb them. 

Wulfric arrived at the door, opening it a crack and slipping inside with his hand over his eyes. He stopped when he realized they remained dressed. 

Luther sighed to see him. “Is it time?” 

“Time to prepare, yes, sir,” Wulfric said. “The others are outside, shall I let them in?” 

“Of course,” Criella said, nodding. 

Wulfric opened the doors, and Helena, Jo, Eira, and Rhosyn looked surprised and confused. 

Luther stood from his chair, holding on to Criella’s hand as he did so, and refusing to let her go even as she stepped away from him and toward his wives. 

“I realize this is unorthodox,” Criella said, “But thank you for letting me borrow Luther for the night.” 

Helena sniffed the air, as if to confirm something. “Did you two not fuck?” she asked, confused. 

“No,” Criella shook her head. “Neither I, nor Luther, wanted to do anything that might risk sullying your union, with or without your unspoken permission.” She took a deep breath. “But if it’s okay with you, I would very much like to kiss Luther one final time, before I die.” 

Helena, Jo, Eira, and Rhosyn looked at each other, struck by the weight of the remark. Each nodded their approval with understanding and sympathy in their eyes.  

“Of course,” Eira said, speaking for the group. “We know he loves you enough to invite you to our union. None of us will begrudge you your goodbye.” 

“Want us to leave the room so you can do more than kiss?” Rhosyn asked. 

Criella shook her head. “No, but thank you.” 

“I wish you’d married us,” Jo said. “We all do.” 

Criella smiled glumly. “I regret my stubbornness, but maybe it’s better this way.”

“Bullshit,” Wulfric said, shocking the room into silence. 

Every person in the room looked at him with disbelief in their eyes. Even Criella’s tail went still, as if stunned. 

Even the man himself appeared surprised that the words had left his lips. His mouth opened and closed a few times until his voice began working again. 

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” He said quickly to Luther. “But, Miss Criella, won’t you at least consider forfeiting?” 

“I can’t,” Criella said, shaking her head. “I’ve made my choice, Wulfric. But thank you. I appreciate that you do not want me to die.” 

Wulfric gave a weak exhale, but stiffened himself and tugged his jacket as if to fix its disheveled nature. “Forgive my breach of conduct, my lord.” 

“Think nothing of it, Wulfric. It is bullshit, and you’re right to call it so,” Luther said, eyeing Criella as she turned to look at him. 

“After all that, you want me to forfeit, too?” Criella asked, tears pressing against the corner of her eyes. 

“If I can’t convince you to forfeit, then I want you to win,” Luther said. “You need to accept whatever gifts I can give you. Please, Criella. I have rings, weapons, and armors that might help you defeat the Feothe clan.” 

Eira and Rhosyn exchanged an uncomfortable glance, but Luther didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know if Eira used her magic to preview Criella’s death. Nor did he want to use her magic to view it himself. He couldn’t risk having to watch her die twice. 

“I have my preferred armor and weapon. Besides, anything I own or carry onto that field becomes theirs,” Criella said. 

“Only if you lose,” Luther corrected her. 

“Yes,” Criella agreed. “And it’s five against one.”

Luther grimaced and rubbed his chin. “I have a staff that might neutralize Branan,” he offered. 

“Keep it for when you fight him, assuming he survives. I’m no good with a staff anyway, I’ll keep my rapier. Raoul is my priority,” Criella said, stretching slightly. 

Helena shifted. “Marne should be your priority.” 

Criella turned to look at her, lifting her gaze to meet Helena’s eyes. 

“Your teleportation will help you avoid her spells and break her enchantments over you, but she’ll force you to use up your power quickly if you let that continue for too long,” Helena explained. “And they can outlast you.” 

Criella nodded. Helena had a point, though the Feothe’s were likely to defend whichever member seemed the most vulnerable, which might be Marne. That would make killing her more difficult. As a lone fighter, Criella had to focus on attack and defense simultaneously, and prioritizing her opponents was crucial to her success and survival.  

“Saehild’s summoning will probably focus on trying to use something with better senses or exceeding swiftness to counteract your teleports,” Jo said, stroking her chin as she considered the upcoming battle from a tactical standpoint. “And she’ll try to make it six on one as soon as possible. She might be worth prioritizing if you can kill her quickly.” 

“Raoul will, of course, use his powers to become invisible and attack,” Rhosyn said.

“Or lurk in the background until he notices a pattern or vulnerability in your movements that he can capitalize on to his advantage,” Luther said. 

The smart thing to do, given Criella’s threats against Raoul, would be for the Feothe clan to protect him. Yet that would, by nature of their surrounding him, make his spells of invisibility quite useless. It was stupid, though, to assume that was the only spell he knew. 

“Or use a new spell entirely,” Luther added. 

“I wouldn’t worry about Raoul,” Criella pointed to her eyes. “For all the shit aspects of my ancestry, there are some benefits.” 

The others didn’t know what she meant by that, but Luther did. He’d met other Asmodeans in his travels, and some–though not all–could discern illusions at a glance. Much like his own attributes, which differed from a pure human, not all of Criella’s differences were physical. 

“Can you use your tail to fight?” Rhosyn asked. 

Criella nodded. “I’ve gotten pretty adept at throwing things with it.” 

“Does anyone know Lucas’ arcanum?” Eira asked. 

Everyone glanced at each other, but Luther had no idea what it was. Neither Lucas nor Emily had mentioned their magical talents to his recollection. He tried to remember everything he could about the dinner party to decide, but it was Wulfric who answered. 

“He’s a photomancer, my lady,” Wulfric said. “A capable ranged combatant, and capable of using it defensively.” 

Luther had almost forgotten the older man was there, but he was thankful for the information. “You’re sure?” He asked. 

Wulfric leveled a stoic gaze at Luther. “I have it on good authority, my lord, but I have not seen his magic myself.” 

“Thank you, Wulfric,” Criella said, breaking all formalities by hugging him. 

Wulfric stiffened as though struck with death at the sudden embrace, but relaxed and patted Criella on the back in a gentle, almost reluctant signal to release him. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Wulfric said, his voice thicker than before. “I have preparations to attend to.” 

“Of course,” Luther said. “Thank you, Wulfric.” He didn’t hug Wulfric, but he nodded his thanks as the head of his household staff made his departure. 

When he was gone, he returned his attention to Criella and his wives. 

“Jo, can you perform the wedding ritual and participate in it at the same time?” Luther asked. 

The others stared at him. Each processed his question at their own speed, but all inevitably reached the same understanding. 

“That’s not… how it’s done,” Jo said. She chose her words carefully, fearing to upset him more than he was. 

“But can you do it?” Luther asked. 

“It’s illegal,” Criella said. “We’ve been over this.” 

“This isn’t about the law. It’s about survival,” Luther said, leveling his eyes at Criella and no longer pleading with them. His tone wasn’t that of a desperate man begging, but a noble lord resolute in his course of action. “I have faced many adversaries more powerful than myself in my travels, Criella. The only reason I survived and they did not is that I embraced the truth. There are no rules to life, except those we impose upon ourselves.” 

“Yes, Luther, that’s called law, and it’s enforced by those with the power to do so,” Criella said, as if he were stupid. 

“And what’s the penalty for breaking this particular law?” Luther asked. 

The others looked at Criella, who studied Luther’s face as if trying to determine whether he was being serious or facetious.

“It’s determined on a case-by-case basis,” Criella said. “But you’d suffer the consequences as much as I would.” 

“Only if we’re caught,” Luther said. 

“We’d be caught the moment you set foot into the arena with me. Raoul knows we weren’t married yesterday, as do the servants, and everyone else.” 

“So I won’t set foot into the arena with you,” Luther said, still formulating his plan as he spoke. “But we can give you a massive pool of magic to draw from so you can outlast your opponents.” 

The others exchanged glances. 

“Would that work?” Helena asked Jo. 

“She’d still be fighting on her own,” Rhosyn commented. “But that’d be a huge advantage for sure.” 

“Jowangshin Le Fey, don’t you dare play into this foolish, reckless, and lawless plan,” Criella turned her glare toward Jo with the full weight of her name in her words. 

Jo glanced at the others. “It’d be unorthodox, but if I maintained the concentration and the song during the ritual, we could connect you to the union.” 

“I’d feel like an ass sitting on the sidelines, though. It’d be our right to join you in the field,” Helena said. 

“No, it’d be your arrest and potentially, your death,” Criella said, then turned her glare toward Luther again. “We’re not doing it.” 

“Cree,” Luther said, leveling her nickname at her like a rebuke from a stern father. “Stop it. You said yourself you regret your stubbornness. Don’t fight me on this. If you won’t accept anything from me that might aid the Feothe clan, then accept something they’d never be able to take from you. Our love.” 

The soft, final explanation halted Criella’s retort even as her mouth formed the words. They died on her tongue, unspoken, as a single tear pushed its way past the brink and slid over her cheek. 

“If she marries you and loses, won’t they have a right to our estates?” Rhosyn asked, confused. 

“Not if she joins the union without the legal marriage,” Eira said. “And they’d have to defeat all of us, not just one of us, to lay claim to anything other than what Criella carries or owns individually.” 

“It’s a perfect plan,” Luther said. 

Criella stared at Luther, her tail swishing in low, steady sweeps above the floor. Her fists unclenched, and her nails left their divots in her palms. 

“It’s deceitful and underhanded, sure, but there are different kinds of might,” Luther said, continuing his persuasion. “Magical might is powerful, yes, but the might of deception can be the deciding factor between death and survival. Just look at how I defeated Helena when she was stronger, faster, and equally skilled in fighting.” 

Criella swallowed. 

“I know it goes against your beliefs to violate the law, but if no one here objects, we could perform the ritual now, help you emerge victorious, and we can repeat the ritual for the public after,” Luther said. “That way, everything is according to the law once again.” 

Criella sighed. “That’s not how–” 

“Please, Criella,” Luther said, not quite begging, but pleading. Using every ounce of his charm and natural charisma, he cupped her face and brought her gaze to his welling eyes. “Accept me, be with us, and let us help you. We can be happy together, even if it’s only for an hour before you have to fight for what happiness we’ve been able to achieve.” 

Criella’s eyes began to match Luther’s for tears, but both kept them back for each other’s sake. 

“I have no objection,” Helena said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’d welcome Criella to our union,” Eira said. “If she joins it willingly.” 

“I would as well,” Rhosyn added. Her eyes searched Criella’s face for some indication of rejection, but Criella kept her eyes focused on Luther’s. 

“Jo?” Helena asked. “I know it goes against–” 

“I’d welcome her,” Jo said, nodding. “And I’m willing to perform the ritual, if I can.” 

“But–” Criella’s protest died on her tongue, never making it past her lips as Luther kissed her. She tensed, but relaxed and returned the kiss, crying through it even as she clung to him. 

“Seal the doors,” Eira said, gesturing toward the library entrance. Helena picked up an empty table in the central aisle, conveniently making the space for them. She placed it against the doors, holding them shut after she stacked a pile of books atop it. 

“You’re sure about this?” Criella asked. “I don’t want this to cause you any trouble down the line, after I–” 

“This won’t cause us any trouble,” Luther said. “It will help you win and live. You will live. That’s an order from your lord.” 

Criella wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, not arguing with Luther. She swallowed and nodded. “And if I live, we’ll get married properly?” 

“As soon as possible,” Luther said. “And no one needs to know about our deceit, which I still maintain as a valid path to victory.” 

“And we’ll live happily ever after,” Criella said, knowing that it was just as much a fairy tale as it sounded. 

“No,” Luther shook his head. “You’re far too contrarian for that.” 

Criella laughed, glancing around her as the others surrounded them once more. They stood in the library’s space, which Helena had cleared. Eira and Rhosyn brought over the unused bed Wulfric had made for Criella the night before. Jo prepared herself for the ritual and began disrobing. None of them had their ritual white robes, but their clothes would only prevent them from completing the ritual, so they discarded them where they stood. 

Soon, Luther and Criella stood nude, facing each other within a ring of Luther’s wives. Jo stood at their side, facing them, with a hand on each of their shoulders. “We’ll need to be quicker and quieter than usual. And are you willing, Criella? The ritual doesn’t work without your willingness to join the union.” 

“Yes,” Criella said. “I am willing.” 

“We’ll have to sign the documents legalizing the marriage after the fact.” Jo said, “After your victory.” 

They nodded. 

“And you’re willing, Luther?” Jo asked. 

“Not yet,” Luther said, shaking his head. 

Criella and the others looked at him with confusion and surprise warring across their features. He’d suggested this course of action, time and secrecy were essential, and now he wasn’t ready? 

He smiled a devil’s smile at Criella and tilted his chin at her. “She hasn’t asked me yet.” 

The look in Criella’s eyes told him she didn’t know whether to laugh, strike him, or kiss him. Technically, he’d kept his promise not to propose to her again. He’d suggested this course of action to Jo, and defended it, but never said the words to ask her to marry him once more. He might be perfectly willing to utilize deceit against his enemies, but he treated his friends, wives, and potential wives to honesty. 

She sighed heavily, chuckling through the dramatic gesture as she dropped to one knee. “Will you, Lord Luther Le Fey, my dearest friend and more, marry me?” 

Luther had planned to mull over the situation and play up his indecision to lighten the mood, but the genuine love in her voice struck that thought from him like an arrow to the heart. He swallowed and lifted her to her feet. 

“Of course,” Luther said. “It would be my delight to marry you, Criella.” 

They shared a kiss, and the others stepped closer, tightening the circle around them. Jo squeezed their shoulders in her hands and began the ritual. 

“Helena, Eira, Rhosyn, Jo, and Luther Le Fey and Criella Foster, the two of you join this union of your free will?” Jo asked. 

“I do.” They said together. 

“You are sober and of sound mind?” Jo asked. 

“I am,” everyone said together. 

“You understand the permanency of this ritual and will endure no matter what hardships may lie ahead?” Jo asked. 

“I will,” they said. Everyone knew there was one immediate hardship to overcome, and despite their oath, Criella had to face it alone. She might not be able to endure beyond the dawn. Still, no one yielded to sorrow or doubt. The bloom of passion and love in their hearts overcame the twilight gloom. 

“You wish to be bound together in body, mind, and soul?” Jo asked. 

“I wish,” they said, completing the recitations. 

“Your partners consent to this union, and can anyone here provide any reason why these people should not marry?” Jo asked the empty library. None of the books protested. A reason, the illegality, sprang to everyone’s minds, but no one uttered it. 

“Very well.” She said, lifting her hands toward the heavens. 

The others joined her, raising their hands and uniting theirs over her as she stepped between them. Jo began her song. The union melody was joyful and quick. Jo’s diction in the ancient language remained perfect as she sang.

The ritual’s presentation aspect became more of an observation. Already nude, Luther let his eyes wander over Criella’s body, taking in the sight of her crimson skin, pert breasts, black nipples, toned stomach, and legs. Her long, lithe muscles bore all the feminine grace he could imagine, with round, curvy hips that invited him to sin. Her naked breasts weren’t the largest of the union; few could compete with Helena, but she took second place without a doublet or a corset to constrain them. Everyone took in her nudity, making her blush and turning her cheeks a deeper red. 

Jo continued her song as she circled them. In the absence of ritual robes, she used her own to drape and knot them together. Clothing — shirts and dresses — became the binding that wove the connection between them. It lacked the regality and refinement of a noble wedding, but bore all the charm and practicality of a peasant union. 

Luther felt the dull swell of magic push against him, pulling him toward Criella. The ritual was working, even without the precious law backing it. 

Jo continued the spell, enchanting everyone as she took her place among them.

Luther kissed Criella, and she wrapped her tail around his waist as they embraced. He turned, lowering her to the bed below with grace. To her surprise, however, he did not join her. Rhosyn took his place, kissing Criella with her thigh between her legs. Then she moved off, and Eira did the same, followed by Helena, then Jo. Jo didn’t break the song to kiss her, but did use her fingers to pleasure Criella atop the bed as Criella kissed her and licked her pussy lips, careful not to distract Jo to the point of losing her place or stopping the song. 

Jo remained focused, her expression stern with concentration until she made way for Luther, who took his place between Criella’s thighs with slow, steady movements. 

Criella arched her back as Luther entered her. The others had taken care to arouse her beyond her limits already, with their thighs, hands, and even tongues rubbing her to the brink of release, then stepping away. Each partner drove her to the edge, then let the next take their place. 

Luther had none to follow him, so he took her, and the connection between them threatened to overwhelm him. He felt her spirit connect to his in ways beyond the others, and her connection to the pool of their union opened a floodgate. He closed his eyes and pictured the pool to find that her stream was more like a river, directly beside his. His connection with her deeply outpaced his connections to the others, and her spirit was so similar to his own that embracing her felt like home. 

He opened his eyes to see her staring up at him, open-mouthed and frozen as if time itself stopped. Her body seized his, and pleasure erupted through their bodies as Jo reached the crescendo of the ritual. Criella shook, and each explosion that rippled through her drove her higher, as if each was a dose of pure adrenaline. 

The song ended, and Luther lowered himself against Criella, kissing her open mouth and sliding his tongue against hers. She returned the kiss, the tears leaving her eyes as Luther turned his face to kiss them away. 

She caught her breath, as did the others, who took the opportunity to pleasure each other while Luther completed the ritual with Criella.

Jo raised her hands, completing the final benediction of an official ceremony. “May the gods of heaven bless your union, and may you prove mighty!” 

“To our might!” Luther and the women chorused, each lifting a fist toward the sky.

Luther sat back on his heels as he pulled himself from Criella. She scooted away, sitting up and kissing him once more before they came to their feet. 

The others caught their breath, each hugging Criella as if welcoming her to the family and kissing her in turns. 

“Now, all I have to do is get dressed and kill five people before they kill me,” Criella said, swallowing, and instantly sobering the giddy mood that swept through them. “Let’s do this.”