Chapter Forty-Nine
But the ceremony was only the beginning of the wedding festivities.
I stabbed idly at the plate of food in front of me, aware of my corset—a long-nailed, grasping hand—digging into my ribs.
Our bridal banquet had commenced immediately after the marriage ceremony and was now plunging into its third hour without any signs of slowing.
I was seated at the head table, gazing out at the guests arranged around Fortblanche’s transformed ballroom.
Above us, flowering boughs and ivy garlands hung from the chandeliers; every so often, a petal would float down, giving the appearance of a sort of blossoming rain.
Seated around me were Noé and, flowing out from our either side, the entirety of our bridal parties.
I’d had Mia search each and every one of the attending silkwitches upon their arrival to Fortblanche prior to the commencement of the ceremony.
We’d collected two pocketknives, a vial of a foul-smelling substance I highly suspected was some form of rat poison, and a viciously sharp letter opener from their persons—all of them last-ditch attempts to kill me before I married and Bastian’s offer fell through.
They’d failed. Impulsively, I glanced down at the new metal band encircling my ring finger, directly above my agate engagement ring. Bastian, against all odds, had followed through on his promise: I’d solved the mystery he’d laid out for me, and now I was wed.
It felt…strange.
Abruptly, Noé shifted toward me. “Enjoying yourself?”
I turned my attention toward him, attempting to avoid looking at the seal which bulged above his knuckle. Even after witnessing it, it was difficult to picture my hair trapped within its opaline gem. My magic—now bound to him.
“Half of these people have tried to kill me, and the other half likely wish they’d succeeded,” I muttered under my breath. “What do you think?”
He chuckled. “An hour more, darling. Then we may be gone from this wretched place.” Smoothly, he angled himself nearer to me, his thumb raising to rub over the knob of bone at the base of my neck.
My skin prickled at the contact. Despite everything that had passed between us—or perhaps because of it—I found myself unused to the ease with which he touched me now.
It made me feel like a schoolgirl, heart fluttering and infuriatingly shy.
His speech dropped to a whisper. “You know, you never told me who killed Sybil.”
Heat speared me. It was true. During our trek back to Fortblanche after he’d found me in the rainstorm, I’d told Noé that I’d solved his father’s mystery, but Mia had found me before I could share any more details.
Swallowing, I let my attention drift toward Bastian—currently chatting with a group of other men near the back of the room—before returning it to him.
“After the dinner is through,” I muttered.
Noé nodded.
Gathering myself, I shifted away from him. “Anais.” My maid of honor jerked to attention. She was seated on my other side, poking at her food and staring with poorly disguised longing at Manon, a few chairs down from her, as she’d been doing all night.
At my summons, her cheeks colored, as if embarrassed at being caught. “Remembered me, have you?” she sniped. Her eyes darted to the back of my seat, where Noé’s arm was still casually draped. “I hate sitting by couples. The affection between you two is nauseating.”
I didn’t take the bait. “I wanted to say thank you,” I replied instead. “We made a deal, and you’ve more than held up your end of it. You’ve been a good maid of honor to me.” Hesitantly, I went on. “And a good friend.”
Her green eyes bored into mine. For a moment, I detected a softness in them—a certain predators’ kinship, like that exchanged between two foxes passing one another in a forest. The emotion lingered for only a second before she drowned it, but still…
It had been there. And for the time being, that was enough.
Dropping my gaze, I swallowed. “Remember,” I said. “After tonight, there is a subject we must discuss. Before your and Adélard’s wedding.”
I resisted the urge to glance at Noé’s seal again. I could still feel the tight noose of the magesilk around my finger, digging into my skin as I swore my magic to him.
I would not—could not—allow the same to happen to her. Not if I could help it.
But Anais only scoffed. “Sisters three, Cecilia. I know what it means to bed a man.”
I smirked just as a wave of noise crested over us. It took me a minute to make out the meaning of the shouts rippling through our guests: “Speech!”
My mood soured. These dreadful speeches had been going all night—more and more as the crowd got drunker. I’d been hounded into one already, and Noé and his father had given several each. Who was our audience harassing this time?
As if in answer to my question, a figure seated to my husband’s left stood up. He waved at the guests, smiling as if in reluctant acceptance of their commands.
Eliot. I glanced anxiously at Noé, who pressed gently down on my shoulder, his message clear, though unspoken. It’s fine.
To our side, Eliot cleared his throat. “All right, all right,” he said while I watched on, my fist clenched beneath the table.
“Ahem. As many of you know, I have claimed Noé Alaire as a friend—no, a brother—since childhood. And though, like brothers, we have had our fights”—he paused, brow raised; a laugh went through the crowd—“in truth, there is not a soul in this nation whom I love more dearly. Which is why…” His voice grew solemn, his stare falling to Noé’s. “I must apologize to you today.”
My fingers relaxed. The emotion in Eliot’s eyes was genuine; beside me, Noé tensed.
“I must apologize, for I have deceived you,” Eliot went on. “Months ago, I brought a girl called Cecilia Lovett into your halls—a ward of my great-uncle, I told you then. I gained her entrance into your Vainglory, coached her into earning your affection and your hand in marriage.
“I lied to you,” Eliot said. He spoke confidently, without a single pause or hitch; at his words, I felt my heart split open. “For her name is not Cecilia. She is Lovett Tamerlane, and she is a liar and a thief.”