Chapter 5 Savi #3
Finally, her fingers scraped against the jewellery box she was looking for, carefully wrapped in one of her old saris.
She opened it to reveal the scarlet velvet interior, carefully encasing each piece in its own silken coffin.
In one of the smaller drawers, she knew she’d stashed a carefully folded piece of paper detailing precisely what each item was, but Savi knew most of them by heart.
An ancient, misshapen Roman ring from the 3rd century, set with a faded garnet; that one her Ashmolean librarian beau had bought for her in Rome.
A medieval brooch she’d bought from an auction in Oxford.
An ancient Egyptian amulet depicting Osiris that she’d bought in Cairo.
Ma had bought her a pretty little peacock tikli with small moonstones embedded in its tail in an oddities’ shop in London. The shopkeeper had thought it was a singular earring, not realising that the small clasp at the top was meant to sit in the wearer’s hair rather than their ear.
Savi quickly placed it at the crown of her head, letting the peacock sit in the middle of her forehead, just below her hairline—but then she found what she was looking for.
She opened one of the larger drawers in the jewellery box to find a grotesque, palm-sized amulet of Maa Kali, the Hindu Goddess of Death and Destruction.
This one, too, had popped up in an auction in Oxford, and Savi knew she had to have it.
The auction dated it to the 17th century, but she had a feeling it was misshapen even when it was new.
The silver was worn smooth with time, but Kali’s tongue still lolled from her mouth, her scimitar raised in one of her four arms, whilst another held up a decapitated head.
She was naked except for a skirt of human arms and a necklace of yet more decapitated heads swaying from her neck.
Savi exhaled as she fastened the amulet’s silver chain around her neck, thinking of the invoice from the sanatorium. She was disappointed that her father hadn’t brought Ma’s jewellery, but it was Ma’s disappearance that truly ignited her anger.
Because if Ma really was imprisoned in Room EC1, who better to channel than the Goddess of Death and Destruction?
Snapping the jewellery box shut and scooping her bouquet into her palm, Savi hurried out of her apartments, poking her head around the door to check her father wasn’t strolling down the corridor. She could hear George still vrooming away, but neither he nor Raj was in sight.
Her hurried steps flitted over the dark green carpets, retreading the familiar path down to the deserted northern morning room—before she realised that she had no idea where she needed to go.
She knew the wedding was taking place in the ballroom, but Silverburn was bigger than the Ashmolean.
It would take her months to find her way around.
Savi decided to follow the corridor Lily had brought her down yesterday, recognising the Persian rug stretching out across the entrance hall. More deep emerald carpets slipped up the wide stone staircase, splitting in two off a small landing displaying a pair of flags depicting a coat of arms.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a pink-cheeked footman standing opposite the staircase, talking to a man leaning on what looked like a wooden camera stand. “Excuse me?” she called, weighed down by the heavy skirts. “Do either of you know where the ballroom is?”
Both of the men stiffened in surprise as their eyes landed on her, quickly flicking down to her wedding dress—but it was the footman who answered. “Miss Dey, of course—if you’ll follow me. I wasn’t expecting you for another few minutes.”
As it turned out, Savi would likely have found it quite easily. The short route to the ballroom was lined with the same snow-white flowers that made up her bouquet, peonies, perhaps? They were extremely pretty, she had to admit, even if their colour reminded her of the loss of her mother.
“Vroom!” came a call from behind her, mingling with a deep laugh that belonged to her father. They couldn’t be that far behind her, then.
“Here we are, my lady,” the footman said, walking between a pair of huge wooden columns before stopping at an equally large set of double doors. “Once Mr Dey has joined us, I shall let them know that you have arrived.”
Savi nodded, eagerly taking in the sight of the painstakingly intricate floral carvings on the columns, their dark, honeyed wood looking almost gilded in the sunlight.
The double doors were just as majestic, showcasing yet more floral motifs, the vines climbing to twice her height before the door finally ended.
Her ears twitched when she heard footsteps behind her. She quickly pulled her long plait over her shoulder, hiding her Kali amulet as best she could. She wanted her father to see it—but not yet. “Ready to go?” she asked, smiling as George bounded up to her.
“Yesssss!” he shouted, thrusting the little car into the air as his overloud voice ricocheted off the walls around them.
“Shh, Georgie,” Katherine murmured, patting her son’s dark hair. Her sleeveless, high-necked dress was a blue so dark it reminded her of the night’s sky, the long string of pearls around her neck acting as constellations. “Say goodbye to Papa quickly.”
George frowned. “Why? He isn’t leaving.”
“No, but you, me, and Albie have to go in to find our seats first.” Katherine sent Savi a sweet smile, her cheeks eternally rosy. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” Savi said, attempting to smile back—although she suspected it came out as more of a nervous grimace as the apprehension really began to take hold.
As they slipped through the doors, Savi caught a glimpse of a long row of seats fit to burst with people. Holy shit, this is really happening. She blew out a long breath, barely noticing Raj talking to the footman, hooking his elbow through hers and pulling her into place.
I wish Ma were here.
Ma would offer words of reassurance at the very least—and most definitely a hug. A lump grew in her throat, remembering the comforting smell of Ma’s perfume, the tight clasp of her arms, the sound of her voice.
But then the double doors opened as one, and a sea of faces turned to watch them—and there was no going back.
Savi took a deep breath, remembering what was at stake here, who was at stake. She swept her long plait over her shoulder, finally unveiling the Kali amulet draped over her breast, and took the first step down the long aisle.
The polished parquet flooring gleamed as sunlight fell through the arched windows at the end of the room.
Row upon row of seating fell on either side of the long aisle, filled with silk ruffles, cloche hats, and sparkling tassels.
Perhaps her father wasn’t so wrong to have worn a white tie after all, because it was all she could see the men wearing.
On the right side of the room, she saw a few people dotted around with the same unusual hair as her friend from the lake this morning.
Or loch, as he called it. Was that the same thing?
She’d have to ask him when she found him.
She hadn’t seen him so far, but she presumed she’d walked past him already.
To calm her nerves, she shifted her focus to the other side of the aisle, where she finally saw a friendly face—little George, amidst all the pomp and grandeur, peering over his chair to send her a frantic wave and an exuberant grin.
His face broke the spell of apprehension that had settled over her. Savi let out a half-contained smile, surreptitiously waving back at him. In the corner of her eye, though, she could see the groom turning towards her—and she couldn’t put it off any longer.
She looked at the man who would become her husband.
Savi came to a standstill.
The man from the lake stood at the altar, staring back at her with an expression every bit as shocked as hers. He was taller than she thought he’d be, but there was no mistaking the breadth of those shoulders.
“Savitha,” Raj muttered, tugging on her elbow amidst a barrage of whispers.
His focus finally dipped down to her neck, widening when he saw her amulet.
The vein slicing down the middle of his forehead pulsed furiously, but he wouldn’t dare make a scene in front of all of these people.
To Raj, nothing mattered as much as his social standing.
Behind her father’s bulging vein, however, her husband-to-be held his hand out, his brows knitting together in an expression of gentle concern.
Well, he seemed normal this morning. Judging from the single conversation she’d had with him, her father could definitely have come up with worse options.
He hadn’t chosen to drown her in the lake earlier. Surely that said something positive for his character?
Sliding her arm from her father’s, Savi gave her husband-to-be her hand. The size difference in their grasps was overwhelming; she’d always had large hands for a woman, but somehow he managed to make them look almost delicate.
He leant in, lowering his voice as the dull drone of the officiant began. “So you’re Savitha.”
“Savi,” she corrected him with a stern flick of her eyebrow. “And you’re Alexander.”
He sent her one straight back. “Alex.”
Between them, the officiant cleared his throat, but Savi took no notice.
She’d never been one to live by the rules, and she certainly wasn’t going to start doing so at her own wedding.
Her gaze caught on yet another snow-white floral arrangement on the ballroom’s upper balcony.
It was true that white symbolised mourning, but right then she felt another of its meanings call to her—rebirth.
Because after this ceremony, she would no longer be Miss Savi Dey. She would be Savi Yates, Marchioness of Lakenheath.
“So,” she began quietly, giving Alex a flirtatious smirk. “Do you still fancy getting that drink later?”