Chapter 32 #2
“Kvasnik?” He didn’t wait for my reply before he grabbed his hat and threw it on the floor. He unleashed a string of profanities in Varnasian. “Klessa was right. Klessa is always right. And now I’ll have to tell her.”
I crouched down. “Klessa guessed?”
“I told her it was impossible.” He studied me again and grabbed my shoulders. “But how? This is no costume.”
“She has means of permanence outside of a seamstress’ needle.
” I could have called it magic. I could have described her reliance on The Kind and Fair.
I could have said a hundred different things more direct.
But even to me, who had worn the effects of it, it sounded fantastical.
“Forgive me. I could not safely tell you sooner.”
He grabbed me into his arms and held me with a grip I could not dislodge had I been inclined. I embraced him in return, content now that I had set down the burden of deceiving my friends.
“The princess cannot know,” I said.
“Why not?” he asked as he released me.
“I have my reasons. Please.”
Drook’s face did not validate my assessment, but he nodded in agreement.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“Part of the processional.”
“Will you please tell Klessa?”
“You can tell her yourself.” Drook glanced over to the other side of the hall. “As I am the one to stand up with you, Klessa is the princess’ bridal party.”
As if choreographed, two women, followed by their own detachment of guards, emerged from the doorway on the far side of the hall, one tall and stately, the other short and stately.
Their measured steps held no hesitation.
Alaina’s face held no uncertainty. Klessa, although usually self-assured, wore a light veil that obscured her face and any expression she may have been making.
Alaina would, as the tsarina intended, feel the insult of our chosen attendants, but for me, I could not think of any other I preferred if this situation must play out. I could not find two finer people in all the world to bear witness to my wedding and share the final hours of my life.
I stood, prepared to meet the princess I was to wed.
Alaina dressed as any traditional Ilyichian bride.
Her satin gown reflected the soft candlelight that illuminated the ceremonial space.
The gold chain woven through her braids sparkled against her dark hair.
Velvet burgundy ribbons with strands of seed pearls tied her hair back and up.
Her pearl and satin kokoshnik, stark against dark hair and skin, framed her face most becomingly.
A necklace in a cascade of teardrop pearls hung from her throat.
For all the cruelty and insults about her Altanian features from the court, even for all the teasing I had done about her unimpressive size, her radiance and serenity stunned me into dumbstruck admiration.
I bowed so that I could hide my embarrassment. Even in the blue brocade and sable robe, I still wore feathers and had nothing but what she herself had given me. I vowed to keep her alive tonight since that was the only thing I could offer.
“Rise, dearest Kaylay.”
I swallowed back my insecurities before I did as she instructed.
“You might have at least dressed up for our wedding,” I said, afraid that if I did not fall back on teasing, I would indeed become an emotional fool. I made a show of looking her over. “You didn’t even try, did you?”
“I tried more than you,” she said, her stoicism disintegrating as she tried not to smile.
“Nonsense. I wore my finest feathers.”
“Hmm.” Alaina took her turn to size me up. “So you did.”
“Shall we get this over with?”
“You are a most unwilling groom.”
Drook crossed behind us to speak to his wife.
“It is like any state marriage,” I assured Alaina. “They are rarely conducted between willing participants.”
“How relieving then, that we are like every other couple.” She reached out and took my hand, squeezing my fingers in reassurance. “Regardless of how this came about, I will take my vows seriously.”
“As will I.” Even if I only had hours in which to honor her.
“I KNEW IT!” Klessa pushed past both her husband and Alaina and threw her arms around me. “I knew it,” she mumbled into my shoulder.
Alaina released my hand in her surprise.
When Klessa withdrew, she lifted the veil so that she could allow me to appreciate her scolding look. The hair on her face had thinned and was shorter than last I had seen, enabling a better view of her facial features. And then it struck me. That maid who recognized me... had been Klessa!
“Why?” I reached up to touch her cheek. “Why would you shave your beautiful hair?”
“To get near you, you idiot.” She glanced over her shoulder at Drook and gestured to me. “Do you believe this?”
“I suppose.” Drook shrugged. “He was never the sharpest among us.”
“I told you,” Klessa said pointedly, “you shine. No matter what.”
“But like this?”
“So pretty. So dumb.” Klessa patted my cheek. “Yes. Like this. Like anything. I would know you.”
A woman true and fair, indeed. And I loved her very much.
“Alaina,” I interjected, content to be affectionately ridiculed but aware of how left out my bride must feel, “these are my friends. My truest friends.”
Alaina glanced at Drook, then Klessa, and then back to me. I could not mistake the question in her eyes.
“I will tell you all about how that came to be,” I assured the princess, “tomorrow.”
No one responded to that, all eyes cast down to the floor, knowing the likelihood of our survival.
The crowd hushed behind us, and I gazed up in the direction of most turned heads. The tsarina had entered, taking her place in her balcony box, as if attending a theatrical event and not the forced wedding of nobles she had condemned to death. Her Allemandian lover took position beside her.
Rumors abounded about the Baron and the nature of his relationship with the tsarina, many citing him as the one who wielded the power because the tsarina was too caught up in her own pet interests.
But not having seen him in her presence, I suspected that many of those rumors might have come from the man himself, looking to bolster his own reputation at court.
The tsarina only seemed to tolerate him now due to the point she wanted to make to me: if I had just said yes, then I would have been up there beside her instead, titles, wealth, and reputation intact.
The tsarina’s personal diviner shambled out moments later with help from several younger members of the religious order. His sparse hair and black robes made the wizened face resemble a skull, an ill omen to anyone with eyes to see it, even to a follower of the Great Holy.
Klessa and Drook took their respective places beside Alaina and me, all of us falling automatically into the roles we were required to play in this farce.
And farce though it may be, punishment as might have been intended, I could not have wished to have anyone else beside me at such a time than the three people I held nearest and dearest to my heart in this era of trial.
The diviner’s shaky voice rose and fell in unbalanced cadence as he announced the purpose of the festivities: to honor The Kind and Fair.
All sat in rapt attention, less on his words and more on the princess who was being forced to marry the court pet. No one announced that Alaina was losing her titles, but the occasion certainly implied that her titles had been reduced to nothing.
An acolyte carried out the usual blood sacrifice, this time a hare, at the basin. The diviner droned on, heedless to the act and the couple he had been charged to bless for the festivities.
“The tsarina, in her continued devotion to The Kind and Fair, has offered her best,” the diviner finally looked up from the book in front of him to gaze at Alaina, “and her favorite,” at which point he looked at me.
The untamed brows did a wild dance upon realizing the strange tableau Alaina and I created with court entertainers as our attendants.
“May this union between the representatives of Ilyichia and the Otherlands ensure our mutual prosperity for the years to come.”
The younger helpers guided the diviner out to where we stood. Another followed with the traditional white satin cord stretched between his hands.
“Do you, Princess Alaina,” the diviner continued, “offer the one beside you a share of your position and your life?”
“I do.”
“And will you take it to husband for the prosperity of Ilyichia?”
Klessa added in a whisper, loud enough for me to hear but likely not loud enough for the diviner, “Even though he is a stubborn fool who will constantly frustrate you?”
Alaina’s brows shot up as she dampened a smile. “I will.”
“And do you — er....” The diviner stuttered and stumbled, figuring out how to address me.
“Prince of birds,” Drook supplied and then stared the diviner down in challenge.
“Er, do you, prince of birds, offer the one beside you a share of your position and your life?”
“I can give you nothing,” I told Alaina.
“You have given me everything.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Everything that matters. I don’t need anything else. Go on.”
I returned my attention to the diviner. “I do.”
“And will you take her to wife for the prosperity of Ilyichia?”
“Even though she be but an ordinary human and as small as me?” Drook asked.
“I will.” I cast him a glance but kept my attention on our officiant. “With all my heart.”
The cord bearer stepped forward and began wrapping our hands with the satin. After several loops and passes, he tied the ends together, binding us before all assembled.
“I offer to Ilyichia this formal union. May their sacrifice please The Kind and Fair.”
I didn’t look up to see how the tsarina reacted to our marriage. I didn’t look behind us to see how the courtiers behaved in the wake of Alaina’s quiet disgrace. I didn’t even look to Klessa or Drook for their support and approval. I had no thought for anyone but my wife.
My wife.
She gazed up at me, thoughtful and sincere, perhaps having the same moment of incredulity as I. For she now had a husband again.
“I am sorry, my lady,” I told her.
“Kaylay, whatever for?”
“Even in marriage, I still cannot give you a happy ending.”
“I don’t need a wonder tale to be happy.” She reached out with her unbound hand and tugged me down to her. She kissed my brow and then released me. “I just need you.”