Chapter 19 The Ceremony #2
Mór leans forward and drops something in my palm.
I stare down at it: a ring dark as onyx.
It takes me a moment to realize I'm to slip in on his finger—the only one not already heavily adorned.
In slow, drawn out movements I try to hold steady as I push it into place without looking up at him.
As if I could stretch space and time. Avoid what's to come forever.
All too soon, I feel his hand gently brush my chin, tilting my face up toward his.
He looks as detached from the moment as I feel, but his eyes don't leave mine until they close when he bends down to claim my lips.
I stand tall on my tiptoes, wondering how I can make him pay for this. Bite him? Spit in his face?
A crackle of lightning splits the sky above us, sends goosebumps arching down my spine.
I’ve missed my window for retaliation, but it’s no matter.
You feel nothing, I tell myself over and over, and keep the chant up as our lips meet.
His mouth is warm; there's a faint taste of salt and sea breeze.
My heart slams in my chest. It must be like kissing stone for him, my body is so tense.
Until it isn't. Slowly, I feel my shoulders lose their rigidity, my legs going slack.
Just as my lips ease, conforming to his, he pulls away, staring at me strangely for a moment before he blinks away.
There are whoops and cheers from his crew. Even Briggs allows himself a broad grin, throwing a glance up towards the sky.
“The gods in Skoyr have witnessed this union and it seals the vow. Let it be known far and wide, Talon of House Sól, land razer, war bringer, has taken this woman, Avalon of Aurorae, as his bride.”
Thunder shakes the ground and the waves rise and fall in angry laps. Stinging rain begins to pelt down overhead. I glance up at the gathering clouds. A god's wrath. seems I'm not the only one unhappy with this union.
“Yeah, yeah, have your fit old man.” Mòr moves to the center of the stone sanctuary, giving Ireus’ statue a withering look before lifting her hands. To my amazement, the mists return, rolling over the sky. The rain ceases and the thunder is a distant call, blanketed by her magick.
The crewmen pull Rhyland off and away. He doesn't look back as he goes, and I don't allow myself to feel bothered by that.
“Come on,” Mòr says. “Sora and I have a feast to prepare. And we'll help you change out of that heavy dress.”
She's right, it is heavy. It only rained for a moment, but the drops had come down thick and fast, effectively soaking us all. Now the long, layered, shimmering skirts seem to weigh more than the stone statues around us.
I let the two of them lead me down the sandy dune to the cottage that's warm and fragrant with supper. Mór begins unfastening the bodice the moment we step onto the hall, but I shove her hands away.
“What about the men?”
Sora lets out a breezy laugh, heading for the kitchens, but the goddess smiles kindly at me. “They went down to the ship to drink and celebrate with the crew while we sort some things out here. Won't be back for at least an hour or more.”
I swallow. “And then what happens?”
Mòr raises an eyebrow, going back to the many buttons that close my borrowed gown.
“And then we feast and drink. You'll be staying a final night to celebrate the union.
In the morning we'll send you off with a much needed restock of supplies, then you'll be on your merry way to Staygia. Be sure to tell the Mad Queen I say hello.”
My teeth grit together. I don't know if she's avoiding my question deliberately, or just not getting my concern.
Strangely, it hadn't been at the center of my thoughts until now, what would happen after.
After the vows were shared and the cups were drained.
The little I know of weddings are ones that are done willingly—or by royal families.
With those big, important unions the talk of Helgate was always consummation, the first witnessed bedding.
How soon would we be getting another royal baby?
Surely, that's not what Rhyland has in mind.
He said himself, he expected nothing of me but compliance with orders on his ship.
And not getting myself killed or something.
The heavy dress slaps onto the floor and I'm left shivering in my underthings until Mór tosses a blanket over my shoulder and leads me to the fire. She sits on the bench beside me and starts plucking the little decorative shells from my ruined hair.
“The godly families are not as barbaric as humans.
We are immortal and therefore the goal is not procreation.
Sure, some enjoy having a go on their wedding night, but it's not demanded.
However, there is tradition to be followed.
You will share a bed tonight—for the first sleep, we call it.
Sora will have the proper basin ready, filled with oils and herbs you'll use to cleanse each other. This is the final rite of a godly union. It will seal it for good.”
Despite the heavy blanket and warm fire, her words still have me shivering.
Not for good. Just until I get back to Helgate.
It's good news, of course, that I won't have to give myself to him in that way.
But even the idea of sleeping next to him is unsettling.
I think of his kiss, lips tingling with the ghost of it.
Subconsciously, my hand reaches up to brush over them.
He'd been so cold. So detached, yet warm against my mouth.
My gaze goes hard. “What did you see, Mór? Why did you really insist on this marriage?”
She sighs loudly, pulling the final shell from my hair. “You'll understand in your own time, Avalon. But I promise you, it's not for the bells of folly.”