52. Wedding
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Wedding
We stood before the village clergyman.
“May the Saints bless this union.” He said the final line of the wedding ceremony. We took each other’s hands, and the clergyman bound a white braided rope around our wrists. A visual representation of our union that must not be removed until we completed the first night of consummation.
Cassiel wore black trousers made of linen and an ivory tunic. I wore black. Not the ivory of Sycarian brides. For Piper. For Lucinda. For everyone I carried with me now.
As many present knew, our joining did not go in the proper order. Cassiel took my hand and turned with me to face the onlookers. People that I had met on my journey. Only those I loved, and everyone Cassiel tolerated for me, stood clapping.
Tears filled my eyes. The one creature I had desperately wanted here could not be.
Piper would have loved this. She would not have believed how far we had come. I closed my eyes, hoping that wherever she continued to be, she knew how I missed her.
And Lucinda—she would have stood at the back of the Hall with her arms crossed, sneering at the ceremony, and I would have loved her for it. She would have muttered under her breath and pretended she had not come for me. But she had come for me. All the way to the end.
I opened my eyes before the tears fell.
The clapping tapered off, and guests began to shuffle out of the seats to line themselves up to greet us with well wishes. I exchanged pleasantries with all: friends, elders, and even staff. The last person in the line stunned me.
“Miriam?”
“Congratulations,” Miriam clasped my hands.
I almost swallowed my tongue. She smiled at my obvious shock and rested her hand on the top of her belly.
“Thank you for allowing me to come.” I nodded, even if I did not have a say in it, but I could assume who did.
I tightened my grip on Cassiel’s hand. “Lord Cedric left me a gift.” Her mouth twisted.
“The only one I will ever want.” She caressed her stomach.
It had been many moon rotations since I’d seen her. She seemed ready to give birth.
“You should not have traveled so close,” I croaked, motioning to her belly.
“I could not miss your wedding. I promised myself that I would not fail you in this.” Her throat bobbed.
“How is your home without your father?” I managed to ask.
“Not the same. Mother took her life.” I did not know how to respond. All the Bjorns had hurt me, and I could not muster sympathy. Her lips trembled. “But I am glad they will not be present for baby Amara’s birth.”
Her words silenced me. Everything weighed heavily between us, rendering me mute.
Her eyes widened. “If it is okay with you.”
“I—of course,” I managed. “What if it is a boy?”
“The healer stationed nearby is quite sure she’s a girl.”
“Congratulations,” Cassiel offered from my side.
“Your Highness.” She curtsied to Cassiel. “Please come visit us.” Her smile turned wry. “If you have the time for it.”
“Of course.”
She hesitated, conflict clear on her features. I moved forward and gathered her to me with my one free arm. She softened against me with a sob.
“I am so terribly sorry for what I have done to you.”
“Shh, do not stress the child.” She sniffled with a laugh and backed up, moving to let us pass. Cassiel pulled me to his side and inclined his head while she clumsily curtsied. “We will speak more,” I promised as I was pulled away. Cassiel led me out of the Grand Hall and down the steps.
“Why did you not say?”
“Hm, I was not sure what your reply would be, but.” He peered at me with the corner of his mouth lifted. “I saw how you cared for the girl.”
I could not speak, and if I did, I would be sure to burst into tears. I looked over my shoulder to where Miriam was disappearing into the crowd, one hand on her belly.
Miriam had betrayed me and lived. Lucinda had fought for me and died. There was no lesson in this, no justice. Only what remained. I would carry both the forgiveness and the debt, and I would carry them both for the rest of my life.
An iron-cast carriage sat before us. The style was open as if for strolling through parks on a bright day. Strapped at the front was Abrax. His hair had been plaited, and small bows placed within his mane.
I pursed my lips, but I could not stop the laugh as I climbed up and sat beside Cassiel.
“Enjoy it. Abrax is above this . . . frill.” Abrax neighed, clopping down the path with exaggeration. It was clear he was not favoring hauling us. Cassiel’s hand covered my hip, a deep furrow between his brows. “Is anything ailing you?”
I bit back my smile. He was always so attentive, especially over the injury he had given me. I shook my head, but he continued rubbing his palm over the satin fabric of my gown.
We settled into companionable silence.
“I know you wish Piper was here,” he murmured, squeezing my waist.
“I worry about her survival,” I admitted, choking up. Piper was long gone, living life as an animal.
My lip trembled. Cassiel caught my hands, turning me toward him.
“I did not mean to upset you,” he murmured, concerned.
I shook my head, sending tendrils hanging at my temples fluttering against my cheeks. “I am not upset.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, not entirely upset. I am also happy.” I squeezed his hands. “Happy that I have you.” I let out a shuddering breath.
Nothing was perfect, and certain people were fighting against this, but there were efforts spread far and wide to bring fairness to the realm.
That would have been the focus, but too many issues erupted from different areas.
Illegal Harvests continued to work in secret.
Bluebloods kept their servants sequestered.
Hollows swarmed the land, all of various types, causing officers to be spread thin.
Battalions, usually three hundred strong, had dwindled to groupings of forty.
It was madness throughout villages; redbloods turning on bluebloods and the opposite as well.
Creating more Warlords had been a sluggish endeavor, with the Elders and Elite representatives struggling to come to an agreement on who to turn and what those requirements would be.
As we pulled up before the Citadel, a man sat waiting on the steps. I squinted. Damien? He stood as we came to a stop. Cassiel helped me off the carriage.
He saw my black wedding gown.
“You . . .” His eyes flicked to Cassiel, then back to me. “I am terribly sorry to have—”
“Stop it!” I shouted, clasping the bottom of the gown to lift the train.
I strode to Damien. “There have been no recent deaths. I was wed.” Cassiel’s shadow cast over me, informing me of how close he followed.
Damien watched, completely stunned. The last we had seen him was during Lucinda’s death rites ceremony.
A quiet, somber affair where I had left quickly after.
“Go and greet your woman. Vera has been a mess in your absence,” I chastised. Damien grinned, but it quickly faded.
“Your Highness,” Damien muttered. “Matters are worsening. The Elders must decide how to divide the Guard. People are dying in droves.”
I grabbed Cassiel’s hand, bringing his attention to me. We had discussed many, many paths in the rebuilding of Sycarious, and still, they all seemed to have their pitfalls.
What lay ahead would not be an easy feat. I squeezed Cassiel’s hand. But I would not be alone. I would forever have this brutal Warlord at my side.