I dropped the cloth and announced, “After this, birth control all the way.”
Through another chuckle I heard Lahn ask, “Birth what?”
“Birth control. After little Lahn or little Lahnahsahna makes his or her entry into this world, you’re sheathing your sword, big guy.”
An amused but confused, “Sheathing my sword?”
I lifted the cloth again, glared at him then moved my glare down to the area being discussed and just to make certain he got it, I gave a little nod in that direction.
He got it. I knew it when he roared with laughter.
Again, I found nothing funny.
I dropped the cloth and tried not to let his big body shaking the bed make me hurl.
Finally, he quieted his humor but remarked, “I’ve heard of this practiced in the Northlands. We do not practice the same in the Southlands, my queen.”
“Well, you’re going to be a trendsetter,” I returned on a mutter.
“Trendsetter?”
“Setting the fashion, being the first.”
His hand still at my belly slid up, curled around my breast and his voice was partly amused, partly serious when he informed me. “I’ll not have anything between me and my golden queen.”
I opened my mouth to say something smart but he kept talking as his hand slid back to my belly.
“And we will have many children, many warriors to serve Suh Tunak, many golden princesses so their father can behold your beauty on more than your face.”
That was sweet and all, really sweet but… I did not think so.
“That’s sweet, Lahn, but I’m being very serious.”
“Then I will be serious as well and tell you I will not use these… things.”
“Then you’ll pull out before the festivities culminate. It isn’t full proof but it’ll be something,” I muttered.
Suddenly, the cloth was gone and Lahn’s face was in mine, his big body looming over me and I noticed immediately he no longer thought anything was funny either.
“I will not spend my seed on your skin.”
Uh-oh.
I stared in his face and knew I said something very, very wrong.
“Lahn –”
“A warrior’s seed is his essence; it is the future of Suh Tunak. It is not wasted unless used to deliver the worst insult he can give or released on the body of a Xacto. Traitors, enemy warriors weak enough to get captured alive, spies foolish enough to be detected, they receive wasted seed. And a warrior does not plant his seed in Xacto and you, my golden queen, are not Xacto.”
Okay, it was safe to say this conversation had taken a drastic turn down a road I did not want to go. So I had to detour us, pronto.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He glared at me. Then he clipped, “Okay.”
“I, uh… didn’t know,” I said quietly.
“Now you do.”