Chapter 36
Elara
Elara glided through the muddy slush formed from melted snow, the mud clinging to the bottom of her navy blue embroidered skirt.
Caelan trudged along behind her, his boots squelching with every step.
Wedding plans were the couple’s focus for the day.
The last time she had planned an event of this scale, it was for the grand ball held early in her captivity.
Then, she’d faced a dozen seemingly insignificant decisions alone, each potentially impacting her standing in her own court. Now she had Caelan.
How far we’ve come.
“Do we really have to do this today?” Caelan grumbled, fussing with her heavy wool coat and securing it around her shoulders. “You might not freeze to death, but I’m not an Embrathi, and it’s cold out here.”
“Afraid of a little snow, watermage?” Elara tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide to catch a snowflake. With a flick of Caelan’s wrist, a tiny flurry floated to her tongue, and they both grinned at each other.
“I didn’t know you could make snow.” She beamed at him.
He laughed, the sound like bells. “I didn’t either.”
She planted a kiss on his chilly red cheek. “Today, I get to train you.” Her breath appeared as swirls of mist between them.
Caelan crinkled his nose. “As you wish, Princess.” Ever the gentleman, he extended his arm and pulled her in close to the warmth of his side.
The pair scrutinized the tent city that had blossomed on the festival grounds over the last few days.
Seven concentric circles formed around the massive wedding pavilion in the center.
These tents were more lavish than the ones the nobles had brought for the tournament.
Intricate gold detailing shimmered in the sunlight, and the air smelled of expensive perfumes and polished wood.
The canvas was thick, and the ropes and beams fastened tightly, each one fortified for the soon-to-arrive harsh weather.
The dozens of nobles and merchants who’d made the journey to witness the wedding of the century had set up their temporary homes, the wealthiest in the circle closest to the center.
Workers had already shoveled the grounds, and fires in lightweight metal stoves lined the pathways, providing light and warmth.
Elara assumed that Lord Stormrider had hired flamewards to keep the fires lit, either with their essence or with enchantments.
Elara and Caelan walked down the path until the heaters’ comforting glow engulfed them, the warmth blissful against Elara’s numb cheeks. Despite the fires, she shivered as they neared the wedding pavilion. Braided silver tassels hung from the flaps of the entryway, dancing in the breeze.
“This was my parents’ binding marquee,” Elara said as she ran her fingers over the tassels.
Caelan’s eyes softened, and he placed a gloved hand over hers. Snowflakes stuck to her lashes like frozen tears.
“Come,” Caelan said. “I have a feeling I have a lot to learn. And I’m a terrible student. Do your worst.”
Elara sniffled, but she smiled and let him lead her under the threshold.
Pure-white silks cascaded from the top of the king pole to the earth, where workers covered the ground in plush sapphire-blue rugs.
Everywhere, vibrant red peonies and fluffy pink astilbes created a breathtaking display, their sweet fragrance reminiscent of spring, at odds with the frigid air outside.
Ornate brass lanterns hung from the ceiling and queen poles, combating the chill with their own magical flames.
An attendant escorted them to a table with half a dozen place settings, each with its own combination of their house colors and crests.
“What do you think of this one?” Elara asked, gesturing to a place setting.
“They all look the same to me.” Caelan shrugged nonchalantly, but he squinted at the silverware with distaste.
She shook her head. “This one will do nicely.” Elara selected a setting with a cobalt-blue charger and a white plate accented with emerald-green vines curling around the edges. The attendant noted her choice and scampered off to complete the next task on his to-do list.
Elara turned to Caelan. “Obviously, the color palette is the same for all of them, but why do you suppose I chose this one?”
“Because you like being on top?” For all the finesse and skill Caelan had with his magic and his sword, he lacked the taste for this kind of battle.
Where most men, and a few lucky women, could flaunt their power in shows of force, she was forced to protect hers through the complex and often ridiculous details of court fashions.
Elara punched him in the arm. “You’re not entirely wrong,” she said. A smirk touched his lips as one eyebrow rose in amusement. “Not like that! It’s important to balance representation for both of our houses, while maintaining the authority of the crown,” she clarified.
“All that from a plate?” Caelan placed his hands on his hips.
“Imagine what goes into selecting the menu that fills it,” Elara said, rolling her eyes at him.
He snuck a few extra bites of the cake samples while Elara made her selections.
The right tablecloth—made from Valorian silk and embroidered with swans and sea serpents—sent a powerful message of wealth and unity.
The right sculpture—two swans bowing their heads together to form an elegant heart—celebrated young love’s innocence.
“Stars, Elara.” Caelan ran a hand through his blond curls. “We’re going to be here all day, aren’t we?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been working on this for weeks. We just have to make a show of putting our stamp of approval on everything as a couple. Besides,” she whispered, “it gives you a chance to survey the grounds, find any weak points.”
Caelan nodded, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Dangerous little princess.”
If only you knew, she thought.
Between decision-making, Elara conducted her own surveillance, creating an exit strategy should she and Sera need to implement their backup plan.
Elara watched the man she loved, a calculating look on his face as he scanned the pavilion and noted key locations for his own plan.
Should I tell him? she thought. No. I don’t want him to think I’ve lost my faith in him.
Several leafless birch trees lined an aisle that led up to the dais where Elara and Caelan would exchange vows in just a few days.
The pale branches were decorated with more flowers, along with glittering crystal garlands.
Rows of cushioned benches sat upon either side of the aisle, but most of the witnesses would stand, so that the benches could be moved after the ceremony without forcing guests out into the cold.
After the binding ceremony, the marquee would transform for dancing.
Servants would pass food and drink about on platters.
Music would fill the space, encouraging revelry in celebration of the couple and Serendith’s future.
Elara’s people needed something to celebrate.
She placed a hand on her belly—the heirs of this union could ignite a resurgence of magic and the longstanding peace that accompanied powerful rulers.
She took a deep breath. The wedding would be her only chance to defeat Lord Stormrider, save her family, and secure the kingdom.
Elara prayed to the stars she wouldn’t fail.