57
I Do
Rumi
“Will you wear a veil?”
he asked later that day, his fingers tracing the lines on her palm.
“If you wish it,”
she replied, studying his face.
The stern expression he so often wore had melted into comfortable happiness.
“Hmm, I do.
And when it’s just the two of us, I want to see your face, tattoos and all.
They are marks of honor and I am proud to see them on you.”
The statement brought tears to her eyes, she nodded, smiling them away.
“In that case, I best go find a priest, there’s bound to be one aboard, then the veil.”
His eyes turned to her, and she knew without a doubt that he was her Forever.
“Will you wait for me?”
“Always.”
There was a bounce in his step as he strode to the door.
He stopped, turning back toward her, his eyes lingering before he left the room to fulfill his list.
The days flew by, drifting about on rose-colored clouds of bliss.
The priest had given them an appointment for three days later, when he could rise early enough, and while Rumi had suspected the time would move by like molasses, it was the opposite.
The days passed blissfully, the three enjoying the sunlight and vast sky overhead from the ship’s viewing decks and the peaceful company of her friends.
The journey was a patchwork quilt—blocks of music matched with laughter, sashes of kisses and dancing, each made more beautiful when nestled into the comfort of each other’s arms.
She got to know Jameson better and spent the evenings with him and Callum in the ballroom, spinning the night away.
A woman by the name of Miss Charlotte tried to steal Cal away, until he put down a firm foot.
Then she turned her attention to Jameson, who did not seem to mind at all.
On the second day, he broke the news that there were no rings in the shop, though he did purchase a gown with his own money.
There would be no fanfare or crazy acts of love.
She assured him that all would be well.
Occasionally she would smell that same cologne she had on the rail and it would make her freeze in her tracks and look around wildly until one of her companions was there to sweep her away into one fun game or another.
Then, the day was upon them.
Rumi wore a dress of cream-colored silks with a beaded bodice and pearls and lace draped along the sweetheart neckline.
A bronze broach in the center point held the small ivory carving of a woman’s face that reminded her of the things her ama would make.
It almost felt like Ama was with her now.
Rumi’s shoulders were bare.
Exposed.
Cal kept kissing her skin there, like he could not get enough, his lips dispelling the feelings of nakedness. The sleeves were fitted to her elbows where they then belled with more decorative lace. Beneath her skirts and petticoats, she wore a strange contraption that Callum assured her the shopkeeper said was the height of fashion. It was breezy if nothing else and made her already voluminous skirts even larger—so much so, she was barely able to fit through the door. It made her look like a flower weighted by dew, the snowy petals flaring wide. For the first time in her life, she felt like a regal princess. Maybe even a queen. She loved it.
Rumi twisted her hair up and pinned it with the comb she had worn to the first ball, then used that as an anchor for her veil, the lace weighed down by more pearls and beads woven along the edge.
A man in a black robe stood when they entered.
Rumi pressed the veil against her chest to keep it from fluttering around and revealing her tattoos or pointed ears.
“Good morning,”
Callum greeted the robed man from the doorway.
He turned toward Rumi, daybreak illuminating his wide smile.
“I’d like to marry this woman.”
His gaze briefly returned to the priest who dipped his head, his peaceful smile sharing the palpable joy between the young lovers.
The priest silently raised a brow as Cal closed the door to the small chapel.
Silvery light began to chase the grey gloom from the small window as the morning sun rose.
“One thing,”
Cal directed this to the priest.
“We’ll need that water I mentioned, to invite Behiba to witness our union, too.
Enough for both of us to place a foot in.”
Rumi beamed at him, her teeth imprinting her bottom lip—not that he could see from beneath her veil.
“Yes, of course.
Your requests,”
the priest paused, “They remind me of the Old World.
Traditions as old as the Trees of Galillion.”
He placed his hand upon his chest.
“I am familiar with such rites.
May the gods bless your union.”
Then he began the ceremony.
“Behiba for water, Verenestra’s fertile soil, Kephril’s light, and Amuna’s retreating shadows for the Twins.
You wear your weapons for Morthis, what do you bring for Kaelthor who sits upon the throne of Justice?”
Rumi and Cal exchanged a quick glance before she stepped forward.
“For Kaelthor, I bring my truth.
I deceive him not for he knows my heart.”
Content with that answer, the priest stepped out and returned with a small basin.
Then he carried it out to them and placed it at their feet.
Rumi knelt before Cal, smiling at his sharp inhale, and unlaced his boots.
She removed the shoes and gently rolled down each sock, her touch a gentle stroke on his feet.
She stood, taking Cal’s hands in hers, and kissed his knuckles before standing straighter and leaning close, rising on her toes to whisper in his ear.
“I have an idea for the rings.
Distract the priest.
I will take care of it.”
Then she ducked down to remove her own shoes while Cal conversed with the elder man.
She felt the subtle pull of curiosity from him as she bent low and pricked her finger on one of the veil pins, letting the spot of blood fall to the floor.
A brilliant flower bloomed in its place and tendrils of vines curled around it.
She spoke to the stem and explained what she needed, and she could feel the honor and gratitude it felt to serve her wishes.
When she stood again, her bare feet sensing the whispers of the world thrumming against her toes, she clasped two rings in her hand.
The small vines had braided into a pair of bands and hardened like wood.
With a secret smile, she took his hand, pressing the newly crafted rings into his palm.
Cal and the priest were standing shoulder-to-shoulder over a leather-bound book.
She watched as Callum carefully wrote, then scrawled what must have been his signature.
The priest’s eyes seemed to squint as he read the name, or perhaps the morning light bouncing off the page temporarily blinded him.
“Rumi, dearest love, come sign your name to the record.”
Rumi’s heart pounded in her chest as she took the pen in her hand.
This would forever document them together in writing.
It would be real.
Holding her breath, she wrote her full name in the language of her home, the letters more like calligraphic shapes than the letters of the common language.
But she would not lie after they had called upon the gods to bear witness.
When finished, she heaved a sigh that made the veil flutter and looked to Callum for solidity.
His smile cleared the shadows of doubt with the slightest flash of his teeth.
As one, they set a foot into the bucket of water.
“Callum Reid and Rumina Harràj,”
He began.
“Callum and Rumina…”
His tongue flicked over his lips as he took a deep breath.
The water in the basin lapped at their ankles and the wood beneath kissed the soles of their feet.
Rumi felt as if the whole world was watching and waiting—like the universe had paused and every creature held its breath.
“You said you are familiar with the Old World?”
Rumi whispered suddenly, whirling to face the priest who was reading from a small black book.
“I learned of them many years ago,”
he said, stroking his hairless chin.
“Do you know the words?”
His smile was warm and wise.
“I’m sure this old noggin can remember.
Give me but a moment to collect my thoughts.”
Rumi took Callum’s hands once again, feeling his pulse hammering against her wrist.
“We are about to be married, Cal,”
she whispered, grinning.
“I know,”
he replied with a smile of his own.
Oh, how she would never tire of his smiles.
The priest cleared his throat, placing his hands over the pair of theirs, and began the prayer.
“Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be a shelter for the other.
Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be a companion to the other.
Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you.”
He paused, and Rumi was sure he could feel the electric pulse that seemed to buzz where she and Cal touched.
“May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years.
May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth.”
The way the priest melded the two traditions together, Rumi could not have asked for a better ceremony.
She peered into Callum’s face, his steadfast gaze settling her nerves.
“Treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together.
Give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness, and kindness that your connection deserves.
When frustration, difficulties, and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at one time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you, not only the part that seems wrong.
In this way, you can ride out the storms when clouds hide the face of the sun in your lives—remembering that even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is still there.
And if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight.”
A heavy weight of comfort settled over her shoulders and Rumi knew the gods were pleased.
“If you have rings, you may place them on each other’s fingers.”
Cal selected Rumi’s ring from his pocket, rolling the red-gold fragrant circle between his fingers.
“Rumi, from the moment we met, I knew you would change my life.
With you, I’ve found purpose and hope, and the love of my life, in you.
You are my everything.
Let this ring be a symbol of our life together.
Sometimes twisted, sometimes hard, sometimes full of thorns and bugs and…”
He chuckled.
“I am yours, bugs and all.
This ring will always remind you that you captured my heart, mind, and soul.”
He slid the ring over her finger and the weight settled there, just like he’d settled into her heart.
“I give you my everything,”
she said, taking her turn, rolling the ring for him in her palm, the simple words reminiscent of what her mother had always told her she had said to Rumi’s father.
“I cannot wait to build a life together and have many more moons to see you smiling by my side.
I love you with all that I am.”
“Callum and Rumina, you have spoken your vows in the presence of the gods and they have witnessed your oaths.
May the rings you wear never truly be comfortable.
May they be a reminder that love must be cultivated, nourished, and supported in order for it to grow and bloom.”
He smiled at the couple and cleared his throat before continuing.
“As challenges confront you in your future journeys together, may your trust and faith in each other be a comfort against the adversity you will undoubtedly face.
May the Mother, Behiba, bless your love, may Morthis give you strength and courage, may the Twins remind you that every dark night precedes a new day, may Verenestra bless you with bounty and life, and may Kaelthor bless you with long lives spent in love.
“Rumina,”
the priest looked through the veil, holding her eyes, “and Callum, under the eyes of the gods and by the authority granted to me by the City of Ylitson, from this day until the last days, you are now husband and wife.”
He squeezed their hands before he stepped back, allowing them to share their joy.
Callum lifted the lacy veil from her face, his thumb brushing her tattooed chin as he bent down.
“May I kiss my wife?”
he asked, the words barely escaping the broad grin covering his face.
“I demand you do, husband,”
she replied, eagerly rising on her toes to close the gap.
Something felt…right.
Correct.
As if a missing piece of a puzzle had suddenly slipped into place.
A falling sensation came over her, followed by his presence catching her.
A deep thrum in her blood that she had never felt before accompanied their kisses and had her heart pounding.
Her Ti’la spiraled in her chest. Blooming like never before.
The trip back to the room was awash with secret giggles and hurried kisses in hallways before they entered the corridor attached to their room.
He scooped her into his arms, cradling her like a babe as the door to the suite swung open.
With grandiose exaggeration, he had almost carried her over the threshold when a massive form surged into them and rammed into Callum.
A scream scraped from her throat as she fell, and the thud of Cal hitting the door jamb resonated in her bones.
The man swung, catching Cal by surprise.
The assailant’s fist cracked against Cal’s face and his head snapped back and ricocheted off the wall.
For a queasy moment, his green eyes rolled back in his head and Rumi’s heart stopped.
She peered into the face of her demon.
Cal rolled up and stepped in front of Rumi, his face set in a grimace.
“Sullivan, nice to see you, too,”
he growled.
Cal’s elbow jabbed upward and caught Sullivan’s jaw, and he stumbled back against the wall beside Rumi.
She shrank away as her literal nightmare became reality, crawling backward in a puddle of tulle and silk.
Sullivan lurched after her, his face painted in a visage of disgust, a knife flashing in his hand, but Cal was there in a blink, catching the knife in his own palm.
Crimson pooled in his hand and slid down his arm in tiny ribbons as the knife cut flesh.
He only gripped it harder and used the pommel to bash Sullivan’s head.
“She took everything from me!”
Sullivan shouted, foaming at the mouth, kicking Cal’s stomach and sending him flying against the wall again.
The stony mask was gone, replaced by a crazed, wild look.
Then he was on her again, madness gleaming in his eyes.
“I’ll make you pay, you heathen bitch.”
He slashed down, tearing into her dress as he attempted to find purchase with his blade.
Cal crashed into him.
“Don’t fucking touch her!”
A ripping, snapping sound, and the door of the next room collapsed inward, dumping them both on the floor, where they grappled.
Cal punched Sullivan in the face again and again until blood dribbled from the man’s nose, but Sullivan hit Cal’s rib with a vicious crack that made him gasp for breath.
Rumi was not sure if she would be able to jump in without hurting Cal.
This deadly skirmish far exceeded her skills and all she could do was look on in horror as they exchanged blows.
There was a glint of metal and then a crack as Sullivan pulled out his piercer and fired.
Callum fell back against the far wall of the small room and crumpled, blood gushing from a wound somewhere on his chest, his eyes glazed.
“NO!”
Rumi screamed, the ship shaking.
It all happened so fast.
Sullivan surged forward, the knife poised to attack her.
Rumi lunged for Callum and tugged Sweet Pea from the garter beneath her dress, then she dove forward, slipping and tripping on her dress, slamming Sullivan into the wall across from Cal.
Sullivan lashed out and sliced into her arm, blood burgeoning on the white fabric.
“I should have gutted you, cunt!”
He swiped again, just narrowly missing her as his spittle landed on her cheek, the scent of his cologne filling her nose and making her stomach swim with nausea.
The same cologne from the rail—the same she had been catching whiffs of all week.
He had followed them.
Had been spying on them.
Lying in wait like a hunter for them to be vulnerable.
Rumi’s knife carved through the air and bit into his side. He cursed and slashed again, catching her shoulder. A scream ripped from her throat.
“Now you sing, little bird.
Just you wait till I get you back to my benefactor.”
Callum stood, pressing his hand over his wound, and Sullivan pointed the piercer at his head.
Everyone froze.
“I am in charge here,”
Sullivan snarled.
“Come with me and your husband can live.
But don’t test me, or I will shoot.”
“Don’t do it,”
Cal wheezed, holding Rumi’s gaze.
“Don’t listen to him.”
“Please,”
she begged, her palms up in surrender, her heart thundering so hard it hurt.
“Let him go.”
“Come to me, pet,”
Sullivan demanded, his eyes wide enough to see the whites, not moving the aim of his piercer.
Rumi dropped her knife, the sound of it clattering on the floor shrieking through her body.
As her blood dripped onto the floor, plants sprouted wildly at her feet.
She met Cal’s eyes.
She could not lose him.
With a desperate plea to the Ti’la, she made the plants unfurl, shooting upward recklessly, vines springing out wide and fierce, curling around Sullivan.
This time was different.
It felt like more.
She barely communicated with the greenery, rather—like an extension of her arms—they rose, ready to attack.
“What the fuck?”
Sullivan hissed, his eyes horrified as the monster plant curled around his arms, pulling against his legs.
He struggled to level the piercer at them, and as the barrel drew nearer, Cal jerked forward.
Sullivan fired.
Rumi screamed, and the plants shot forward, tightening around Sullivan like a snake.
The shot went high, digging into the wood of the ceiling.
Sullivan snarled as he missed, dropping the piercer as he began to rip and tear at the vines constricting around him.
Cal leapt behind him and wrapped an arm around his throat.
Blood dribbled from the fresh piercer wound, and she could see now that it had hit his shoulder, near his collarbone.
Sullivan’s eyes bulged as Callum’s grip tightened, cutting off air as Sullivan choked.
Sullivan clawed at Cal’s arm.
“Kill him, Rumi,”
Callum growled, looking back at her.
“Kill him now while I have him.”
“What?”
the word came out small and startled.
Cal’s eyes softened.
“He won’t stop.
He will never stop chasing you.
He won’t ever stop hurting you.
You deserve to be the one to land the killing blow.
It is just.
You know what to do.”
Rumi blanched, her head already shaking back and forth as she backed against the wall.
“I cannot kill him, Cal.
I will not do it.”
“Why not?”
His voice sounded pained, almost pleading.
“It is the right thing to do.”
“Please.
Do not ask this of me.
Let him live with his failures.
It is enough.”
His eyes held hers for several heartbeats before he nodded slowly.
He took several deep breaths while Sullivan struggled and scrambled against his restraints.
Cal bent slightly to retrieve his piercer.
Sullivan, a broken man, now had genuine terror in his eyes.
Callum bashed his head with the piercer and the man’s eyes turned glassy as he went limp.
Rumi whirled away and pressed her face to the wall, then felt Cal’s presence behind her a moment later.
“Rumi?”
he whispered against her ear.
When she leaned into him, he gently turned her toward him and hugged her into his chest.
“I’m here.”
They stayed like that for a while, his breathing soothing her heart.
“I need to speak to Jameson.
Let’s go into our room.
I’ll clean this up while you rest, okay?”
She only nodded, her nose brushing the soft fabric of his shirt.
Then he guided her from the hallway and her tormentor, who lay bruised and battered on the ground.