Chapter 4 #2
When we arrived at the clearing that held the Chapel, it was as incredible as anything else the country offered.
The church was small but quaint, as Sameer had rightfully deemed it.
Not a cathedral, but an open, one-room box that wore the features you would expect of any house of worship.
Stained glass, wooden doors, white planks lining the walls—a large, erected cross at the top.
It had personality, and I loved it. I loved it so much that I hated myself for the affection.
We dismounted, and Mr. Evergreen tied our horses to the adjoining post. He watched my hand as it followed the details of a statue near the steps, and I felt guilty, liking the angel so much.
I silently prayed that he didn’t read into it as anything more than art, and I even considered explaining it, though I was not sure how to get it by my cousin.
Mr. Evergreen went on ahead. His deep, wonderful voice echoed with the acoustics as soon as he’d opened the door, and he gave the room a sarcastically cheerful, “Hello? Hello. Hello.”
“Do you feel that?” Willoughby asked, moving by.
“What?” I covered my arms. “Is it a bug?”
“No. The magic,” he said, amused.
I frowned. “Magic? ” I asked.
“The blessing,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “I feel nothing. A blessing is just words.”
Willoughby laughed. “Come, cousin. You don’t believe that? They all marry here.”
“There’s probably not a lot of venues, Ser,” I said.
Cyrus rolled his eyes. “No, it’s the superstition.” He walked to the front of the room and paused, glancing up at the stained glass.
“Superstition?” I asked. “Again, just words. Though I’ll concede, it is pretty in here.”
I ran my fingers along the back of each pew, walking the aisle, slowly closing the distance between myself and my Sword, but then a single ray of light marked my path.
It cut through the window he stood beneath, and it split the painted sky above the glass of God’s outstretched hands and then left crimson and blue squares upon the floor.
The clouds outside must have moved, guiding the colors to dust Mr. Evergreen next.
They were perfect upon his face, and hair, and arms as he stood patiently by the dais, forlorn.
I looked away but stole a second glance, taken by the sight, and, for once, be it by magic or remorse, I saw the future of what my wedding would be, of Mr. Evergreen, solemn near where Sam would stand. He sent his eyes to the floor, even when I came and stood next to him.
“It’s... It’s not what I expected,” I said. There was a blockage in my throat. The room felt dry.
“You can say it’s pretty again,” he said. “It’s alright. I think so, too.”
“I do think it’s pretty,” I confessed. “I’m sure the room makes for decent portraits for the party painter, too.”
He nodded.
“What does the blessing claim?” I asked.
Before he could answer, Willoughby said, “That the couples who kiss in this room will know eternal love. How wondrous, don’t you agree? To begin your union on such luck?”
“Eternal love?” I repeated.
He beamed. “Is that not exciting?” he asked.
“It’s mad, is what it is,” I said. I scoffed. “No room determines love. How can it? It’s… It’s made of wood and stone, not magic. Obviously.”
“You’re going to question decades upon decades of evidence?” he asked. “My, my cousin is quite the skeptic, is she?”
“Decades upon decades?” I shook my head.
They looked at me. “Love is… Love is a complex sensation, Ser Wiloughby. It’s not just something that…
that blossoms out of the dirt of opportunity!
Your legend implies that if I were to,” I gestured stupidly around the room.
“I don’t know… Kiss Mr. Evergreen right now, we’d be locked into our fate, and nothing, not even the fact that I shall marry someone else, could argue that. ”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not kissing him,” he said.
I blushed atrociously.
Willoughby glanced between us, and I bristled, squaring my shoulders. “What if I kissed you? Would we fall in love?”
“I’d rather we not risk it,” he said.
Angry, I took a pointed step at him; he stepped back with his hand coming to bar him.
“Seriously?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow but moved further, inspecting something else.
“I, for one, think it’s nice,” he said. “It really sets the tone for a cherished marriage. And you, you will be so radiant on your wedding day, cousin. Look. Even the sun agrees.” He motioned toward me; the variety of glass reflected across my dress like splattered wisps of color.
“Oh,” I said, softly touching each and watching the lines dance.
Upon realization, I stopped. “I think… I think I’ve seen what I need to see.
” I spun, clapping my hands together, tight.
“Let us see something else!” I begged. “Please, Mr. Evergreen. We could go to the river, or the…” I tried for anything.
“Or, Hell! Well, not. I mean, not like we should go to Hell, just. Oh, let us venture into town or something like that.”
Ser Willoughby paused in either the horror of my cursing on holy ground or the complete disregard for collectiveness. I covered my mouth, but Cyrus fought a hearty laugh and started for the door.
“Onward then,” he said, couriering us out. “Before Her Highness damns us all with that mouth of hers somehow.”
“It was an accident,” I said.
“Sure it was,” he said. “You accidentally desecrated a church.”
“I did not!” I cried.
Willoughby chuckled, but then he hurried out the door.