31. Wedding

Inside, a room twice as big as the antechamber, was the temple of Mother Earth.

Stone pews lined either side, leaving a single aisle up the center to a stone dais and altar under a large wooden carving of an old woman’s face.

Half of it was lined and kindly and human and the other half was made of leaves, roots, fungi, flowers and little animals.

It was an intricate carving, near the size of the wall of a house and done in a pale blush-colored wood.

In front of the altar, Cian stood, murmuring to Alric, fully clad in the Tintarian black armor.

In the pews closest to the front, as Zinnia had guessed, sat all of the eighteen other Procurers, General Jeremanthy, Prince Peregrine and several other armor-clad men I did not recognize.

The only one, not clad in armor was a man in his forties with red hair and a familiar air about him.

He smiled at me as we walked down the aisle.

I looked back up at the wooden woman over Cian’s head.

I decided I would use her patchwork face as a beacon during this.

I would not look at my betrothed.

“Lady Edie,”

said Cian as we drew closer.

He reached out to take my hand, nodding towards my left.

I lifted it and he took it and pulled me the last few steps towards the altar and drew me to face Alric, my eyes no longer able to find Mother Earth’s carving.

I saw Zinnia take a seat in the front row, Thatcher moving to make room for her.

The light from the narrow window to which Alric had his back hit the top of the captain’s shield slung behind him, in that half-moon shape.

I could not make out his backlit features and I had to lower my gaze to the shark tooth insignia on his breastplate to avoid the sunlight directly on my face.

“You make a lovely bride, madam,”

said Cian.

I opened my mouth to thank him.

Nothing came out.

There was a thwacking as the double doors blasted open, Hinnom striding up the aisle, flanked by three guards on either side.

“Good afternoon, all!”

the Shark King sang.

Through the closing doors, we could see the stillness his arrival had ushered in, all of the farmers and earth clerics standing at attention and some mid bow, none speaking.

Everyone stood, as they had not for me, as if Hinnom were the bride.

I would have laughed if I had not been quaking with fear.

“Your Highness,”

Cian said, bowing.

I realized everyone else was giving that half bow, but I was frozen.

I sensed Alric’s glare on me but I could not move.

His six guards shadowed him, as he approached Cian, Alric and myself.

He clapped his hands, eyes on me.

“Your wife is radiant, Alric! Such a sight she is! And in, I would guess, her third decade.

Imagine her as a maiden! You must have been twice as ravishing, lady!”

“Gods, brother,”

came Peregrine from the front pew on the opposite side of Zinnia.

Hinnom waved at the prince, dismissively.

Then he turned to where Zinnia, Thatcher and Perch sat.

“Zinnia, do you not have an entire keep to… keep?”

She nodded.

“Sire, yes.

I wanted to stay for the lady.

She has no attendant.”

“Zinnia, you take on too much, woman.

You are her chatelaine not her bridesmaid.

Off with you,”

he ordered, turning away from her and back to us, eyes flitting between bride and groom.

“Be seated,”

Hinnom bellowed over his shoulder at those in the pews, taking the seat Zinnia vacated, his guards standing in file still in the temple aisle.

She shot me a look of sympathy and left the temple, passing the royal guards at a brisk walk.

“And you have secured betrothals?”

the Shark King asked, eyes on the two sergeants.

“Yes, sire,”

Thatcher answered with a nod, contentment on his face.

“Both of us.”

Perch looked like he might be ill.

“Well?”

Hinnom said, whirling towards Cian.

“Carry on! Or have I missed the nuptials?”

I married Captain Alric Angler that warm spring day, staring at his breastplate’s shark tooth, shielding my eyes from the sun, repeating phrases Cian directed us to repeat.

Both mine and my groom’s voices were stilted.

We exchanged no rings, only words.

The ceremony was more pagan than to what I was accustomed.

Cian cut a small opening in the soft flesh at the base of each of our left thumbs, mine next to my small quill tattoo, and held a silver bowl under them to drip.

He then placed the bowl on the stone altar behind him.

Alric produced, from inside his breastplate, strips of linen.

Cian placed my left hand into Alric’s hands and my new husband wrapped one of the strips around my hand and knotted it.

Then Cian placed Alric’s left hand in my hands.

Alric lifted his right hand, holding out linen to me and I bandaged his left hand, also tying a knot.

How my hands did not shake, I will never know.

I stood in a stone temple for a goddess I did not worship, marrying a man I did not love, in a room full of men I did not know, in a country of which I was only just made a citizen.

The ceremony ended in a blur, Cian repeating teachings from past priests of earth, his voice melodic over the distant sounds of city life, his words so unknown to me.

Hinnom left, his guards following him out of the temple, seemingly bored by his own orders being executed.

The red-haired man gave a wink in Alric’s direction and followed the royal guards out.

The rest of the Procurers and armored men stood and began to file out, except for Thatcher and Perch, clearly waiting for their captain.

Jeremanthy and Peregrine both approached us and offered us their congratulations on our wedding day.

Alric, as always without emotion, nodded.

I did as well, giving the half bow for the prince, finally remembering to show respect to a royal.

“You are a radiant bride, lady,”

the prince said, repeating his brother’s words.

“And you are a kind prince,”

I responded, breathlessly meeting his considerate smile with a half one of my own.

“Dismissed,”

Alric said to Thatcher and Perch.

After the Procurers, the general and the prince left the temple, Cian turned to Alric.

“The king probably did not realize Zinnia was staying with the lady so as to show her your quarters.

If you have duties to attend to, I can take her to the second floor of the keep.

I believe I know—”

“I can take her,”

Alric said brusquely.

Cian turned to me.

“I will collect you at breakfast tomorrow, Edie.

May I call you Edie? I would ask that you call me Cian.”

Alric shot him a look, but the priest ignored the captain.

“Yes, you can.

And I will be ready,”

I said, flexing my toes in their slippers under my white skirts.

We were going to his quarters, was all I could think.

Would he try to undress me? Even if he obviously did not care for me or my presence, would he feel honor-bound to consummate this?