Chapter 25 #2
“In exchange,” Elessan murmured in the same, “I swear to bind my life to yours, to rule by your side as the sun elf king, when the time comes.”
The magic swirled from their joined hands, sweeping over them with so much pressure Elessan’s ears popped. The weight squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t draw air. After several heartbeats, the power settled into his skin with the caress of a spring breeze.
The heaviness vanished as they separated.
A thin scar stretched across his palm, where it would remain until he fulfilled his vow.
Likely many decades or centuries from now, when Roland passed away and Tsara ascended to the throne.
The princess studied her hand for a moment before flashing him a toothy grin. With a nod, she popped her ear plug back in and strode over to her father.
Less than an hour later, Elessan stood in the small chapel one of Roland’s stewards had located preparing for what was probably the fastest and least ostentatious sun elf royal wedding in the entire recorded history of elvenkind.
The dark, almost black, wood paneling lining the walls matched his mood.
The few golden banners hung along the pews did little to lift or enhance the atmosphere.
Two of Roland’s nobles had been scrounged up as witnesses.
They were off to the side. The constant frowns they sent his way when Roland wasn’t looking were doing more to convey their opinion of a lowly mountain elf marrying their beloved princess than words ever could.
The gold band weighing down his pocket was so ornate and tacky it could have come from the Cerel family vault.
It was so unlike any he’d have chosen for Aliya.
Elessan still couldn’t figure out how the sun elves had procured such a thing…
no reasonable person marched to a political summit with an engagement ring just in case.
And no goldsmith could be expected to forge this in the matter of minutes since he’d formally accepted Tsara’s proposal.
He blinked. But it hadn’t been just in case. Tsara had known what she was doing, had planned for this occasion, down to the last detail.
Sighing, he shook his head, the weight of an eternity with these scheming, manipulative people spread before him.
Every twitch of his hand had the tender skin of his palm pulling and aching, a constant reminder there was no way out of this.
He could only hope Aliya made the most of her freedom and lived her life to the fullest.
The door to the chapel creaked open and the steward’s head peeked through. “The bride is on her way, Your Majesty.”
Roland, standing on the dais to Elessan’s left, nodded as his eyes scanned across the room, pinning each person in place. The two nobles stiffened, tucking their hands behind their backs. Elessan met the king’s gaze, refusing to back down.
“Ready?” Roland asked.
Elessan dipped his head once as his stomach soured. Here went nothing, for better or worse.
The priestess stepped forward, the red ribbon she’d use to bind their wrists together dangling from her hand.
She wore the plain blue robes of her station rather than the gold and crimson that would be appropriate for a royal wedding.
While Tsara had planned ahead, she obviously hadn’t shared her plans with the rest of the court.
Praise the mages for small favors.
The steward’s head ducked outside then back in. He met Roland’s eyes and flashed a thumb’s-up.
The king glanced at Elessan and the priestess. “Begin,” he ordered.
The female cleared her throat and raised both hands to the single window in the back of the space.
Her voice reverberated off the rafters. “Children of the sun, cherished kin,” she paused, bowing to Roland, “Your Majesty. We gather beneath the eternal light to witness the bonding of our beloved princess, Tsara Enorathil, to Elessan Svialto.”
The doors at the back of the chapel opened, revealing Tsara.
She still wore her black pants and the olive green tunic that offset her eyes, but she had added a gold sash strapped from shoulder to hip and swept her hair up into an elegant chignon.
A few loose curls framed her face too perfectly to be accidental.
Elessan’s gaze skated down her body. Aliya would’ve managed to pull off the combination of casual and formal attire that such a rushed ceremony demanded. On the princess it just felt… forced.
Much like this whole charade.
His throat went dry as Tsara glided up the center aisle, a serene smile on her face as her eyes stayed glued to him.
No doubt Aliya would be hurt when she learned of today’s events. He could only hope she understood and was as forgiving of him as she’d been of her father.
Tsara settled next to him, facing the priestess. Her gaze flicked once to her father, who gave her a solemn nod.
The officiant continued, “Let all who stand with…”
Elessan drowned out the monotonous words as his fingers tapped a relentless rhythm against his thighs.
This whole ceremony was a waste of time.
They should all be out working with Aliya to reclaim her castle, rescue the hostages and kill Brooks.
Not pretending like he and Tsara were some destined love match, fated to rule the kingdom with wisdom and grace.
No… theirs would be a union based on blackmail and manipulation, as ruined and rotten as the rest of Roland’s reign.
“Please extend your hands for the binding.” The priestess’ words cut through Elessan’s thoughts.
Wordlessly, he held out his right hand as Tsara did the same with her left.
Elessan tried not to flinch as the satin caressed his skin.
Using the traditional knot of two oversized loops above their wrists in an infinity circle, the officiant stepped back. Holding her arms in front of her, she lifted her face to the sun.
“What has been bound in the light today, let no force pull asunder.” She met first Elessan’s then Tsara’s eyes. “Seal this union.”
Turning to face Elessan, Tsara’s mouth curled into a simper as she reached up with her free hand, wrapped her fingers around his neck and guided his lips to hers.
Even the strong scent of her perfume couldn’t dispel the bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat.
“Smile,” she hissed, pulling back just far enough for him to make out her words. “At least pretend to be happy.”
He plastered a tight grin that he was certain didn’t reach his eyes as they turned together to face Roland and the two nobles selected as witnesses.
With a flourish, the priestess pulled out a rolled sheet of parchment and spread it across the altar. The marriage agreement. She handed a quill to Tsara who signed and passed the pen to Elessan. Moments later, the king and the two aristocrats had added their signatures as well.
An iron gate in Elessan’s chest slammed shut with a final-sounding clank that echoed through his head.
That was it. He’d bargained his life away in exchange for Brooks’ hostages, Aliya and the humans.
And most of them would never know.
The ink was barely dry as the priestess rolled up the contract and secreted it in a hidden pocket in her robes, no doubt to be taken to the capital for recording in the official records.
As the female and the two nobles drifted out of the chapel, Elessan turned to Roland and Tsara.
“I’ve done my part. Now do yours. Save my mother and the others.”