Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Wraith watched as Konrad, his now-husband, strode from the ceremony chamber. Gerard followed him out.
I am married.
The shadow king and queen turned and left. The monks made no move to go anywhere. They just stood and stared at him. The grand monk smiled. Then Wraith realised with a start that he should probably leave too.
The monks probably wanted him gone so they could clean or something. So he followed the shadow king and queen out. They glided from the chamber with Wraith trailing after them. They spoke, too low for Wraith to hear.
I am married. I am married now.
A wave of dizziness swept over him. He stopped walking.
The shadow king and queen did not look back to see if he was with them. He turned right and walked down a corridor, his breathing coming fast. He placed a hand on the wall for support. His vision grew fuzzy, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
He opened a random door and found himself in a tiny room with rags, wooden buckets, and vials of solutions. Was this some sort of cleaning closet? He entered and shut the door behind him, blocking out all the light. He dropped onto the floor and wrapped his arms around himself.
I am married, and the person I am married to loathes me.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He rocked back and forth. “Come to me, Umbra. Come to me. Come to me. I need you!”
The hellhound appeared. She rested her paws on Wraith’s knees. Wraith wrapped his arms around her, burying his face amongst the wispy fur.
Umbra nuzzled him.
“I’m married, and he didn’t even speak to me. He just left. He hates me so much!”
Umbra whined.
Wraith had known for days that Konrad despised him. But as he’d stood there in that chamber, actually binding himself to the dragon king and knowing what that would mean for his future had slammed into him.
He’d thought this marriage might be an opportunity for a fresh start and a better future. A bitter laugh escaped him. He did not think that now.
“I don’t want to be married to him.” He squeezed Umbra.
There had been a moment before the ceremony when he’d considered running away. Then during, he’d wondered what would happen if he’d just not gone through with it. If he said he didn’t agree, if he just refused to sign his name, or give over drops of his blood.
“What will happen now? What will happen when I go to Draconia? What will he do to me?” Perhaps Konrad would ignore Wraith. But what if he didn’t? What if his hatred manifested in a physical or torturous way?
“I’m scared,” Wraith whispered.
“I will fight him! I will protect you!” Umbra barked.
Wraith let out a shaky laugh. “Thank you.”
Although, he knew that would be impossible. Umbra could not fight Konrad. She lacked any sort of true physical form. Only Wraith, as her creator, could hear or touch her. Well, the dead could too. And although Umbra had powers, they did not extend to the capacity to harm Konrad.
Wraith remained where he was, face pressed to Umbra’s body. Time ticked past. But Wraith paid it no mind. Right now he felt safe in the dark with his hellhound.
Sometime later, the door opened. Wraith blinked at the sudden flooding of light. A monk let out a scream.
“I’m sorry.” Wraith jumped to his feet.
But the monk’s gaze was on Umbra, who sat on her hind legs. The monk stumbled backwards, tripping over her robes and almost falling.
“Depart,” Wraith said to Umbra, pouring his will into the words to make it a command.
Umbra disappeared. She had no choice but to obey his commands.
“I’m sorry,” Wraith said to the startled monk, who still had not recovered from finding Wraith and his hellhound in the cupboard.
She did not respond. She just clutched her chains. He rushed passed her and headed for the banquet hall. When he entered, everyone appeared to already be seated. Food sat on tables. Wine had been poured and drunk.
I am late to my own wedding banquet.
He darted to the table at the front of the banquet hall, which was filled with long wooden tables. The eyes of people from the six different kingdoms, plus the Monks of the Way of the Dove, followed Wraith.
But he was most aware of King Konrad staring blankly at him.
Wraith sat beside him. “I … I am sorry for being late.”
Konrad stared at him for several long seconds. Wraith tensed. Then Konrad looked away. A servant approached and poured wine. Wraith broke off a bit of bread and placed it in his mouth.
The grand monk rose at the table where the monks sat. He smiled. Slowly the crowd fell silent as they noticed him standing and waiting patiently.
Grand Monk Ferdinand lifted his hands wide. “Today is a wondrous day! The last of the marriages for the peace treaty has been completed, and soon the treaty itself will be finalised.”
Applause broke out throughout the hall. Konrad clapped. Wraith joined in.
“Congratulations to King Konrad and King Consort Wraith.” The grand monk beamed. “We wish you a blessed union and a prosperous and happy future.”
Wraith’s hands spasmed as he clapped. King Consort Wraith. He’d forgotten he’d have a new title now.
The grand monk waited for the applause to die away.
“One of the reasons I, like many of my brethren, joined the Monks of the Way of the Dove was to assist those directly impacted by the many atrocities caused by the war. We witnessed deaths of soldiers and civilians, destruction of homes, farmland, and villages, uncountable people injured, displaced individuals, and so many children made orphans. The war has caused immeasurable suffering.”
A silence followed in the hall.
“We tried to assist as best we could, providing healing, food, shelter, and supplies to those in need with the funds provided by your noble kingdoms. But what was really needed was an end to the war.” He smiled.
“And now the war is behind us, and with the creation of the peace treaty, we can forge forward into a bright future for all!” the grand monk said, the euphoria in his voice undeniable.
More applause broke out. Wraith clapped. Perhaps this union between himself and Konrad would be completely wretched, but at least it had contributed to the peace treaty and less suffering for so many.
That I can be glad for.
“I am proud for the role that we, the Monks of the Way of the Dove, will play in creating this peace within the kingdoms. I am confident it will be lasting.” The grand monk beamed.
“Now, before I invite you to return to celebrating the eighth and final marriage that will seal the treaty, we have a final ritual to perform.” The grand monk turned towards the head table for Necros. “High Priestess Shade.”
One of Wraith’s aunts in attendance stood. She walked towards Wraith and Konrad. Beside him, Konrad tensed.
The high priestess stopped in front of them. “In Necros it is tradition at weddings that both individuals provide a lock of their hair. We ask you, the two grooms, to provide this lock now. It will be woven together and placed into two lockets. One for each of you.”
Then the high priestess came around behind the table. She reached for Wraith’s hair without comment and snipped an inch from the end with ornate silver scissors. His aunt, like many in Necros, had mostly ignored Wraith’s existence, rarely talking to him or acknowledging he even existed.
She then turned to Konrad. “Your Majesty, may I take a lock of your hair?”
Konrad glared at her, and for a second, Wraith thought he’d refuse. He supposed it was wise for Konrad to be cautious about handing over a lock of his hair. Hair, like any part of an individual, held power. Not as much as blood. But still …
Then Konrad gave a sharp nod of his head.
High Priestess Shade snipped a much smaller amount from Konrad’s hair, since his hair lacked the length of Wraith’s. Then she wove their hair together, creating two locks of mixed hair.
“Bound together. Bound together,” she muttered over and over as her fingers moved. “Bound together.”
Konrad leaned away from her. His eyes narrowed.
A thought hit Wraith. Did Konrad hate all necromancers? Not just him?
The high priestess pulled out two lockets from her gown. She placed one of the woven strands into one locket and snapped it closed. She did the same with the other.
She smiled her thin lips at King Konrad and handed one locket to him with a bow. Then she handed the other to Wraith. She strode away from their table.
“Now that the tradition from Necros is complete, you may continue celebrating,” the grand monk said.
Noise resumed almost immediately throughout the banquet hall. Wraith hung the locket around his neck. But Konrad stared at his, glaring at the skull embossed on the front.
Wraith placed his hands in his lap. What was it that Konrad found so detestable about this locket? Was it that it symbolised the binding of Wraith and Konrad in marriage? Or was it because it was a part of a necromancer tradition?
Konrad put the locket on the table. Wraith picked at his food and sipped his wine as the banquet continued. They did not speak.
Wraith dreaded consummating the marriage. He did not have much experience with sex. At least not with the living. All his sexual experiences had involved ghosts.
A few times, spirits had found him attractive and made their interest clear. Some of those times, Wraith had been receptive. But he expected sex with Konrad would be different to sex with ghosts.
As the banquet wrapped up, the shadow king and queen rose and came towards them. Wraith straightened.
“Congratulations on your nuptials,” the shadow king said, looking only at Konrad.
What did it say about Shadow King Lament’s hatred of Wraith that he would rather look at the now-king of a kingdom he’d been at war with than at Wraith?
But honestly, Wraith was grateful that this was the extent of the shadow king’s hatred. He could have just killed Wraith for what Wraith had done.
“May your union be blessed,” the shadow queen said. Then she looked at Wraith. She smiled.
Then the shadow king looked at him, and for the first time, Wraith did not see the usual hatred.
And amongst all the pain of the day, Wraith found himself feeling something other than just despair. He might be stuck in a horrible marriage, but at least he’d pleased the shadow king and queen.