Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Konrad paced in the small room just off the ceremony chamber.
“You should have seen him yesterday. Just standing over the corpse of that poor dead lady. I don’t believe for a second he was just asking her directions.” Konrad scowled. “Who knows what would have happened if I had not turned up when I did?”
Gerard leaned against the wall, watching his older brother pace. A normal monk, four warrior monks, and six guards from Draconia also crowded into the small room.
Gerard scratched at his chin. “What do you think he would have done?”
“Raised her from the dead, of course!” Then Konrad would have witnessed that poor old woman, just like Anton, alive when she should have been at rest. His blood boiled.
At Gerard’s dubious look, Konrad snapped, “It’s what necromancers do!”
“I mean, yeah. But normally they have a reason. Like using the undead in battle against their enemies. Why would Wraith try and raise an old woman in some fishing village? What purpose would that serve?”
“Why else would he go in there if not for some despicable plan?” Konrad paced, which was difficult considering the room held far too many people. “Maybe he was going to suck her energy or something. Necromancers don’t exactly advertise how their powers work.”
Konrad stopped pacing. “But like all necromancers, Wraith is vile and disgusting and repugnant. The things necromancers do—” He cut himself off. He took a breath. “They have no morals. Their very souls are corrupted.”
Konrad rubbed a hand over his face. He closed his eyes, and a vision of Anton pulling the sword from his own chest flashed into his mind. Konrad could smell the metallic scent of blood. He could see his friend’s familiar pale-blue eyes looking straight at him, no sign of recognition.
Konrad’s throat tightened. Then Anton had attacked, swinging at him. Konrad could still feel his sword handle in his hand, slippery with Anton’s blood as he brought the blade down over and over, separating Anton limb from limb, destroying him completely.
Konrad opened his eyes. “They are evil,” he said, voice tight. “They are evil.”
Gerard said nothing. There was something like worry in his eye.
Konrad’s hand shook. He ran it through his hair. His fingers hit his crown, knocking it off-centre. “Fuck!”
“Here, let me help.” Gerard stepped forward.
He straightened the crown. “There.” Then he placed his hands on Konrad’s shoulders.
“Deep breath. You don’t have to like him or respect him.
You can even hate him and think him evil.
What matters is that you marry him so this peace treaty can be finalised. ”
“You’re right. I just wish—” What did he wish? He wished he was not marrying a necromancer. He wished he was marrying someone else. Anyone else. From any of the other kingdoms.
And he just wished he was ready to be king. Instead he felt like he was already failing and letting down his kingdom. They still had no leads on the identities of the robed figures who had attacked their father. Konrad swallowed.
Their father may have had many faults. He was by no means a perfect king, but Konrad did not doubt that his father had been a better king than Konrad. He’d be far more in control of the current situation.
“At least we are well defended today,” Konrad said. He hated that he could hear a tremble in his voice.
Gerard nodded. “That we are. No one will stop this marriage.” They’d thought today could be a day when those plotting might attack. So they’d upped their security and defences.
“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” the monk standing by the door said. “We are ready to start the ceremony.”
“I’m right here with you, brother.” Gerard dropped his hands and stepped back.
Konrad faced the door.
The monk opened it, revealing a large ceremony chamber. The white walls had been constructed from smooth marble. No tapestries or paintings decorated the barren walls. Sunlight flooded in through large glass windows.
At the front of the chamber, Grand Monk Ferdinand stood on a raised dais. Two monks stood on either side of him. They all wore their beige robes and copper chains. Otherwise, the large chamber remained empty. No one except those involved in the sacred binding ritual would be present.
“Dragon King Konrad Drachen,” the grand monk announced. “Accompanying him is Dragon Warrior Prince Gerard of Draconia. King Konrad Drachen is representing the Royal House and the Kingdom of Draconia. His marriage will act as the final marriage that will seal the peace treaty.”
Konrad came forward. Gerard followed.
Before the grand monk stood a white table that held a bowl of ink, a quill, and a scroll. That scroll laid out the marriage contract that Konrad would be binding himself to. It was written in Lorentath, an ancient language known by the monks and only a few others.
Konrad stared at the scroll. Within, it would state the vows they were binding themselves to, including that they would need to consummate the marriage, be true to each other, live in close proximity, and not murder each other. Breaking any of those would result in madness, illness, and death.
As he stared at the scroll, it felt like the marble walls and ceiling were all creeping closer to him, inch by inch. The room felt smaller. The air thicker. He took a breath, trying to slow his heartbeat.
There would be no escaping this marriage. He’d be bound to a necromancer forever. Or at least until one of them died.
Since the beginning of the peace assembly, he’d fought against this marriage. From even before that, he’d fought against a peace treaty with the necromancers. He’d never trusted them. But despite all that, here he was.
The door on the other side of the chamber opened.
“Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm,” the grand monk announced.
“Accompanying him are Shadow Queen Rue Grimm and Shadow King Lament Grimm of Necros. They are presenting Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm, recognising that he is acting as a representative of the Royal House of Necros. His marriage will act as the final marriage that will seal the peace treaty.”
Konrad took a deep breath and looked up.
Wraith floated across the floor. He wore slender black trousers that hugged his thin legs.
His top was flowy and translucent, showing off the fine lines of his torso.
Over that, he wore a long black cape, embroidered with silver.
Around the collar of the cape, black feathers sprouted upwards in an arch, framing his neck and head.
Kohl surrounded his eyes. His plump lips had been painted a bright red, which contrasted so starkly with the rest of the dark outfit and his own pale skin.
Silver pins, shaped like bones, held his long black hair in an elaborate hairstyle of twists and plaits.
His dark eyes remained on the floor as he walked forward.
The sight of his betrothed was truly breathtaking. No one could say otherwise. And even though some of the elements of his appearance, like the bone hairpins, were unnerving, they were easily forgotten when Konrad was faced with the undeniable and startling beauty of Shadow Prince Wraith.
The prince walked forward, his feet making no sound. He stopped and faced Konrad, but his gaze remained down. The shadow king and queen came up behind him.
“Now, for this ceremony, I will need a drop of each of your blood.” The grand monk pulled a golden needle from within his robe. “Please hold out your hands.”
The other monks began to chant in what Konrad assumed was Lorentath.
Konrad lifted his arm. The needle pressed into his finger. The grand monk took his wrist and guided his hand over the bowl of ink. Konrad’s blood dripped into the bowl. The grand monk released his hand, and Konrad dropped it to his side.
The grand monk turned to Wraith. He held his hands tightly together before his chest, not offering either of them to the grand monk. He stared down at the bowl of ink and Konrad’s blood.
“I had not realised we’d use our blood to sign,” Wraith whispered and still did not hold out his hand. “There is much power in blood.”
Konrad exhaled heavily. How had Wraith not known? Blood had been used in every marriage so far.
Wraith glanced at Konrad. He bit his lip and then shoved his hand forward. The grand monk pricked his finger and repeated the actions he’d done with Konrad. As Wraith’s blood hit the ink, the liquid began to swirl.
“Konrad Drachen and Wraith Grimm. Today, you sign your names in blood, binding yourselves in unity for the rest of your lives. This cannot be undone. This cannot be reversed. This is not something to be entering into lightly.”
The grand monk turned his grey eyes to Konrad. “Do you understand, Konrad Drachen? And do you consent to enter into this irreversible contract written out onto this scroll?”
“I understand and consent, Grand Monk,” Konrad said.
“Good. Very good.” Then the grand monk turned to Wraith. “Do you understand, Wraith Grimm? And do you consent to enter into this irreversible contract written out onto this scroll?”
Wraith’s lips moved. Then he licked them. Finally, he said, “I understand and consent, Grand Monk.”
The grand monk held out his hands to the side. “We, the Monks of the Way of the Dove, bear witness today to your union and to this contract you enter into. Now sign your names on the scroll.”
Konrad reached for the quill. He dipped it into the swirling ink and signed. Then he handed the quill to Wraith. Wraith dipped the quill and then held the tip above the parchment. He hesitated.
Konrad had to stop himself from snapping. He didn’t want to marry Wraith, either, but at least Konrad wasn’t stalling and faffing around.
Wraith signed. The chanting grew louder. Their signed names glowed.
“I ask you to face each other and place your palms together,” the grand monk said, voice raised to be heard over the chanting.
Konrad and Wraith turned. They placed their hands together. Wraith gasped as a sudden pressure shoved their hands together. The chanting somehow grew even louder.
Then suddenly, the pressure stopped. The monks finished their chanting. Konrad and Wraith dropped their hands.
“The union is completed,” the grand monk proclaimed. “You are bound together for this life, Konrad Drachen and Wraith Grimm.”
Neither spoke. They did not make eye contact. They just stood at the front of the chamber.
It’s done. We are married.
The grand monk cleared his throat. “The wedding banquet will be held shortly. If you wish to freshen up beforehand, please do.”
Konrad looked at Shadow Prince Wraith, now his husband.
My husband. His muscles seized. He opened his mouth to say … something. But he had no words. So he turned on his heel and left the chamber, not looking back at the man he had just married.