Days passed, having fun, eating too much, and doing things that married couples, especially just married couples, did during the night. We swam lots, almost every day, in fact. I actually made it up to ten laps without stopping. I was so proud of myself.
Timothy kept cramming cautions down my throat until I was about to scream. I hadn’t been watched so avidly since I was a toddler. About a week in, I’d had it. I declared that I wanted the freedom to do things on my own: to shop in the little boutiques, to go to a beauty parlor, to . . . just drift.
Timothy shook his head and frowned. “The Fae are aware of you now. The various factions get up to great mischief. Just because you are more or less under the protection of the Queen of the Unseelie, doesn’t mean that others would honor that. They squabble like children.”
“There are no Fae here on board this ship. Well, except Ben, and he’s on our side, isn’t he?”
For a moment, I saw a shadow of doubt cross over my husband’s face. “I think so,” Timothy said after a moment, “but you are not to be with him alone. His allegiance must always be to the Queen and to the Fae.”
I sighed and looked down. Why were there always such complications? Timothy was a Pooka, and, two werewolves guarded us, plus a Fae and a Thunderbird god. So, why should I expect anything else?
Yet, for all I knew, I was still just a human, despite Timothy’s biting me. He said my body was still adapting. . . But being human should mean that I was free of these obstacles. Right?
“Please, take pity on my suffering, Penelope. If something were to happen to you, I’d break down into a . . .”
Since he’d stopped and seemed at a loss for a descriptive phrase, I jumped in. “A screaming monkey?” I suggested. It was one of our jokes, having seen the tantrums of the zoo monkeys when they decided to wreak havoc with the group. (And screaming was definitely not the worst thing they did.)