75. Zarek
Zarek
THIS FEELS REAL
“Stop fussing with it,” Petrys says.
“I’m not fussing,” I snap.
But I let my hands drop anyway. Petrys is right; messing with the scarlet waistcoat he somehow managed to acquire last night isn’t going to make it fit any better. It’s still wrinkled and a little too tight.
But, hells. At least he’s trying to be supportive.
“You look fine,” Petrys says.
“You weren’t there the first time,” I snort.
I look down at the wrinkled, muddy clothes I’m wearing and try not to think about the silk and velvet I wore in Vsenrog’s court. It’s ridiculous that I ever thought of clothes like that as mine. That life was never meant for me.
I glance at the open door of the temple, then back to Petrys.
“Shit,” I mutter. “She deserves better.”
“I’m sure she does,” Petrys replies. “And yet, for some reason, she chose you.”
He’s smiling at me, that little half-grin that reminds me of our father. My chest is tight, and my heart is beating too fast.
“And you chose her,” Petrys says.
He looks at me in a way that makes me feel like he’s expecting an answer. I swallow; my throat feels dry.
“Of course,” I manage to say. “I would choose her with every beat left in my heart.”
“Then come on,” Petrys says as his lips curl into a smile. “The second time is bound to be easier, right?”
I grunt a response as Petrys leads me toward the open doors of the temple.
This does not feel easier. The temple in Vsenrog, the crowd of nobles in their perfume and lace, the snake of Vsenrog marrying a woman he’d never met to secure a political alliance for the king he only pretended to serve; none of that was my choice. None of that was me.
But this?
I swallow hard as I follow Petrys toward the yawning door of the temple.
When Lilias whispered this idea to me last night, it sounded beautiful and wildly romantic, like a dream.
Part of me could hardly believe she wanted to do this with me.
That the most amazing woman I’d ever met wanted to choose me.
Not just to stay legally bound to me, but to announce it like this. To perform it.
It doesn’t feel like a dream now.
Gods help me, this feels real.
Petrys reaches the top of the stairs, then turns back to me. Sunlight falls across his face, and again, I see our father. He had the same crease between his eyes, the same thin streaks of white at his temples. But our mother is there too. Petrys has her eyes.
“I’m glad I’m here for this one,” Petrys says.
His voice sounds thick, and for the first time it occurs to me that he might have wanted to attend my wedding in Vsenrog.
He couldn’t, of course. I’d spent years trying to distance myself from my brother, to keep him safe by pretending I hardly remembered the boy who’d come down from Dungal with me.
Having Petrys in the audience as I tied my life to the princess I’d never met would have risked the lie that kept him safe.
The lie that I didn’t care for him at all, that I’d severed every bond that once tied me to Dungal.
“Yes,” I admit. “I’m glad you’re here too.”
Petrys pulls me into his arms. I close my eyes and breathe, reveling in the utter strangeness of being with my brother and having absolutely nothing to hide. Petrys pulls back and turns to look into the temple, where beams of sunlight tangle in the rising swirls of incense.
“She’s waiting for you,” he whispers.
I take a deep breath, then turn to face the woman I love.
She walked toward me, the first time. I remember the cloying scent of incense in the Vsenrog temple, the throbbing hangover beating at the inside of my skull, the heat from the candles and the low susurrus of the crowd washing over me, all those voices hissing and whispering.
She walked down that aisle alone, Princess Lilias of Marion, with no family to support her and only Anura behind her, in a dress so gorgeous it would have made a stone god weep.
I remember the moment she recognized me as the same man who rode out to greet her at the city walls, and the way her steps faltered as our eyes met.
I thought she would cry, this doomed woman forced to bind her life to the snake. Gods, how I underestimated her.
Petrys nudges me, and I begin to walk down the aisle.
The little temple is empty and silent, and the rising incense twists in the air like a curtain parting before me.
The priest stands at the altar, candles dancing before him, a crimson ribbon in his hands.
He’s smiling like he’s actually happy we’re here, like this is exactly where he wants to be.
I turn to Elrick, expecting a scowl of disapproval from the man who must still remember that I accused him of selling his sister to Ethiria. Not to mention that whole bit about sucking a dead dog’s balls.
But he’s not scowling. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d say he almost looks proud. Like he’s happy that his sister is making this objectively terrible decision.
Anura, at least, looks mildly annoyed. Thank the gods at least one person is reacting normally.
And Lilias—
Our eyes meet, and my steps falter. She’s wearing red. Somehow, she found a red shawl to drape over her shoulders, and that, combined with the tight, dark dress she’s wearing, makes her look so impossibly beautiful that my breath catches in my throat.
My gods, I love this woman.
Petrys coughs next to me, and I realize I’m standing still. I force myself forward, walking toward the most beautiful woman in the world like I’m moving in a dream. And then I’m at the altar, and the heat of the candles rises to meet me.
“If you would take each other’s hands,” the priest says, in a voice that makes me think he’s finding all of this very amusing.
I reach for Lilias. Our fingers lace together. I feel stronger now that I’m touching her. The priest wraps our wrists with his scarlet ribbon as our palms kiss. He gives us the vows that I’ve heard in every wedding for my entire life, and we give them back to each other.
And if anyone notices that the name my wife uses as she whispers her promises to me is not Zarek, well, they keep that observation to themselves.
The priest closes his hands around our wrists. His touch is warm and firm, his hands rough from a lifetime of hard work. He turns to me, then to Lilias.
“What is bound in the eyes of Mirdia,” he announces, “she who protects and upholds all vows, can never be unbound.”
I stare into my beautiful wife’s dark eyes.
“Good,” I whisper.
And then I lean forward and kiss the woman I love with everything I have.