Chapter 56
Aoife
Everyone was acting so odd today. I’d woken up with Lor already gone, which wasn’t abnormal, but he usually at least gave me a quick kiss each morning.
Then Margaret had appeared in my office, chattering on, which wasn’t so weird—the weird part had been that she hadn’t given me a single piece of gossip.
All her chatter had been about banal things like what I’d had for breakfast and on a scale of one to ten, how burnt I liked my toast. It was almost like she was nervous, something I’d never seen from the painting.
Now I stood in Ceri’s dress shop as she bustled around me, cheeks pink and flushed, a pencil shoved behind one ear, a tape measure in her hands as she took my measurements. Again.
I stood on a short pedestal. “I hardly think this is necessary,” I said. “You just took my measurements last week.”
“And I’m taking a few more,” she said. “Just to be sure. I’m the royal dressmaker, and I want all your outfits to be perfect. Especially now that we’re opening for trade and visitors. We don’t want them thinking the dressmaker doesn’t know how to dress the queen.”
She was babbling. Just like Margaret. Something was amiss.
I stared at myself in the mirror. All I was wearing was a simple thin shift. “Are you nervous about something?”
Ceri’s eyes widened. “Me? Nervous? Why would I be nervous? It’s just another day.” She gave a weak laugh.
The door burst open and Marsten strolled in, arms out wide. “I am here,” he announced while Ceri and I stared at him blankly.
“Wow.” He tapped a bright yellow painted nail against his chin. “Tough crowd today.”
“I don’t know why I have to go to this stupid luncheon,” I grumbled.
It had been on my schedule, put there by my dear husband, who I’d be having a word with later when I saw him for dinner.
Some luncheon with Marsten and the other business owners in Fairwitch Isle.
I was to meet and talk with them about business needs we had.
Now that Fairwitch Isle wasn’t hidden, we could expand.
That was all well and good, but Lor was supposed to join, and according to the schedule I’d received this morning, he wouldn’t be there.
This only heightened my suspicions that something was going on.
I just didn’t know what, and every time I asked anyone, they practically ran in the other direction.
I looked down to see Ceri with a periwinkle dress bunched in her arms.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Your outfit,” she said brightly. “For the lunch.”
Marsten crossed his arms from where he sat on the pale yellow couch, his lips pursed, eyes dancing with amusement.
“Why am I wearing this to a lunch?”
Ceri swallowed thickly. “Because this is an important lunch. A chance for the business owners of Fairwitch Isle to get to know their queen.”
I blinked and was about to retort that they’d known me for well over two years when she shoved the dress over my head.
“Ceri,” I said when the dress was no longer suffocating me.
She tugged it down over my torso and began fluffing it out, and my temper was about to snap. I opened my mouth to command her to tell me what was going on when I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
Marsten’s mouth dropped open. “That is gorgeous, Ceri.”
It truly was. It reminded me of the dress Fairwitch had put me in so long ago, the one I was meant to be beheaded in.
The one I’d been wearing when Lor had awoken me from my curse.
Except this didn’t feel like a mockery. The dress Fairwitch had put me in was meant to humiliate me, to show everyone that I was not a true queen.
This dress was meant to show everyone that I was.
The silk corset was tight around my torso, pushing my breasts up, and I could just imagine the feral look in Lor’s eyes when he saw me in this.
The skirt was translucent, delicate little flowers stitched in and laying atop a silk underskirt that hung to my feet.
But the sleeves were probably my favorite part.
They hung off my shoulders, long-sleeved and lace, matching the same pattern as the skirt with delicate flowers.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, tears springing to my eyes.
I wasn’t sure why I was crying except that somehow it felt like I’d come full circle. No longer the slave queen or the rebel queen or even the warrior queen. Just a queen. A true queen who finally had found her place.
“Well.” Ceri dashed a tear away, her voice wobbling. “You should go. We should go. I’m coming, of course. I just need to get my father.” Her gaze darted to Marsten. “Marsten will walk you!”
Something was definitely going on, but I supposed I was going to find out soon enough what. So I linked my arm through Marsten’s and we walked out the door.
* * *
It didn’t take long to figure out that I wasn’t going to a business meeting.
Marsten led me toward the forest, and I eyed him suspiciously. “This is where the business meeting is taking place,” he said.
“There’s no meeting, Marsten,” I said as we walked between the tall trees, that familiar crunch and snap of pines under our feet filling the silence.
“Oh, thank the godwitches I don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“You’re terrible at pretending,” I said. “All of you are. But if it’s not a business meeting you’re taking me to, then what is it?”
Marsten’s lips spread into a wide smile, and he tipped his head. “Take a look and see.”
We’d stopped, and for the first time since we started walking, I actually took notice of our surroundings.
My breath caught in my throat. Lor’s family was gathered.
My family. We’d become closer over the last few months, and I’d attended every family dinner.
The Wolfgangs weren’t as insufferable as I’d originally thought.
They were kind and welcoming and they always asked about Fair Folk customs and culture.
They were open to trying new traditions, new foods.
They’d made me feel less lost in this new world.
Then my breath caught in my throat as my gaze landed on Lor, standing there in front of everyone, looking so ruggedly beautiful with his wavy brown hair that hung to his shoulders.
His tight-fitting black trousers and simple white silk shirt, the top buttons opened to show his muscular chest that I loved to run my hands over.
His eyes shone as he stared at me. I still didn’t understand what this was. Then I saw Morton sitting on a pedestal behind Lor and the ribbons tied around the tree trunks.
My hand floated to my mouth. This was a marriage ceremony. My marriage ceremony.
Marsten had let go of my arm and joined the small crowd. Ceri and her father appeared, and she flashed me a wide smile. Meera and Fargus both sat on a branch hanging over the little clearing.
I walked forward, my gaze locked on my husband.
He stretched out his hands and I grabbed them as he pulled me toward him.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Our wedding,” he said simply.
“We already had a wedding, unless it was someone else I married?”
He shook his head, hands tightening around mine. “I want a real wedding,” he said. “Done the Fair Folk way. Not using the godwitch traditions. I don’t want to bind myself to you in the name of any godwitch.”
Tears sprang to my eyes once again. Lor was always doing this. These little things that gave me a fresh start, a new beginning, where I didn’t have the horrors of the past hanging over me. I never even thought about redoing our wedding, but this was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“If everyone could please grab a ribbon,” Morton said.
Everyone complied, separating to find a different tree or branch where a ribbon was tied.
“How did you know about this?” I asked, but I already knew.
Lor had assembled a team of historians and Fair Folk to work together to record our history, our culture, everything.
He could’ve asked any of the Fair Folk about our marriage traditions, how we married in secret, without the knowledge of our masters, who never would’ve allowed us to marry each other.
That did them no good when we couldn’t produce children with anyone but mortals.
I’d attended a few Fair Folk weddings to mortals, all done in the name of the love and relationship godwitch, done in one of their temples with their book, their words.
But I’d attended many of our own weddings.
These were intimate ceremonies, only meant to have the closest friends and family invited.
And instead of binding us and our love to the godwitches, we bound ourselves to our family and friends, our community.
They promised to be there for us, to help us when we were struggling, to aid us in times of need, to do everything they could to be the village every husband and wife needed.
One by one, our family members stepped up, tying our hands together with their ribbon. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched each ribbon layer over the next, Lor standing there before me, such a strong and steady presence, his own eyes shining with tears.
Finally the last ribbon was tied, and Morton spoke.
I didn’t hear much of what he said. We’d never had a script for those who married us.
But I stared into Lor’s eyes, and I knew I’d never forget this moment, never forget the love I felt for this man, for this home, this community.
It had taken four thousand years, but I’d finally found where I belonged.