by RJ Metcalf
Dahlia sucked in as deep a breath as her dress would allow. “Thank you.” Her round face was still paler than normal, but at least she wasn’t shaking anymore.
“Do you have the crystal? That’s the most important part.” He smiled at her when she pulled a large, round crystal from a stylized pouch hanging on her hip. “Good girl. Everything else will work out just fine. You’ll see.”
Brave words, coming from him. Brandon snorted to himself as he straightened and looked over the people. But Dahlia didn’t need to be worrying about politics today.
Speaking of … A pale man with shoulder-length dark hair sauntered straight toward him and the Perennian princess. Brandon recognized him and suppressed a sigh. “One moment, princess, I’ll be back.” She nodded and Brandon stepped away, suppressing the urge to grimace.
Dressed in all black, from shiny boots to his jacket and top hat, he oozed haughty arrogance as he stopped just short of being too close. His eyes flickered over Brandon, and he inclined his head with the barest of nods. “Your Highness.”
“Lord Everett.”
Everett leaned back, hands on hips as he looked around the room, a black eyebrow raised. “Fairly nice set-up for a wedding.” He looked back at Brandon. “It’s a shame that it’s happening here though. I was expecting the next wedding I’d be attending would be my own. To none other than the bride today. I hope you do realize how this will make future relations between our kingdoms … sticky.”
Brandon had to grasp for civility. “Yes, I am aware. But as it is, I am not responsible for this arrangement. And it would be to mutual benefit of both Doldra and Aerugo to not let this become a lasting issue.”
“Mm. Indeed. If only Doldra had someone with a more competent grasp on the kingdom-to-kingdom politics. In fact, I may have a suggestion on the matter.”
Trumpets sounded and echoed through the room, interrupting Everett. A hush fell among the people. Brandon tugged his pocket watch out and glanced at it before slipping it away. It was time. He looked up to see that Everett had disappeared in the throng of people scurrying to their respective places.
Swallowing against the resurgence of his own nerves, Brandon walked over and offered his arm to Princess Dahlia. She accepted it with a sigh of relief, her fingers digging into his arm muscle. He winced and patted her hand, hoping she’d get the hint to loosen her grip. She didn’t. Brandon resigned himself to having a bruise tomorrow.
The trumpets stopped suddenly, and the melody switched to stringed instruments, an uplifting music that welled in Brandon’s chest and eased his nervousness. Dahlia’s grip loosened from crushing to comfortably firm. Brandon nodded to himself, pleased. A bard. Excellent. At the crescendo, Brandon stepped out, leading Dahlia down the aisle. He paused at the front to make sure she was steady on her feet before parting ways.
Now that he was in the front and looking back over the throne room, soothed by the music interwoven with magic, he had a moment to appreciate the splendor of what was happening. Once again, Doldra and Perennia would be united in matrimony and their alliance unshakeable. It was comforting to be allies based on both trust and the bonds of marriage.
The doors opened with the swell of music to reveal Richard and Violet standing together. They stepped forward as one, her hand delicately holding his arm, both their postures stiff and formal. Brandon studied his brother’s stoic face as he came down the aisle. A lone tear slipped down his cheek, the only action betraying his feelings.
Violet, on the other hand, looked to be an angel fallen to earth, who wished for escape. Her white wedding gown was simple, almost ethereal; long and flowing, revealing her dark shoulders, her corset delicately embroidered with pale blue and white flowers. Her jaw trembled, eyes focused on what was in front of her and distinctly not on the man next to her. She looked up at Brandon and then over to her sister, keeping her eyes on Dahlia for the remainder of the walk.
They reached the throne where the balding sage waited on the dais. Violet and Richard walked up the three steps to be on equal footing with him. He inclined his head respectfully and addressed the crowd of mixed royalties, nobility, families, and attendants gathered together.
“This day we bind Prince Richard Doldras of Doldra and Princess Violet Floret of Perennia in matrimony and thus seal the kingdoms of Doldra and Perennia together once again.” The sage shook his hands free from his heavy robes of office and placed a hand on both of their heads, lifting his face up to the roof. “Divine Author, we ask that you give favor to this union of man and woman. May their marriage be a blessing to others. We ask for health and longevity of life. We ask for wisdom for them in leading their people and grace for the days to come.”
The sage released them and motioned that they stand to face each other. Brandon could watch Violet’s face now, as Dahlia would be able to see Richard’s. Brandon desperately hoped that Richard wouldn’t do anything to further scare or concern either of the young women.
Brandon looked into the crowd, catching Sapphire’s eye. She beamed at him, the same smile she had given him right before they had walked down the aisle for their own wedding two years prior. She hasn’t changed in the slightest. Vivacious and tender, she had captured his attention the moment he’d first met her, back when she was introduced to him as Slate’s little sister.
From friendship to courting to marriage. Brandon smiled to himself as he remembered the giddy joy of walking down the aisle with her on his arm, exchanging vows, and the celebration that followed.
He glanced over at her again and winked when she looked at him, pleased when she flushed. She raised a slender eyebrow and nodded minutely to the sage, signaling something. Brandon focused on what the old man was saying, realizing that he had effectively daydreamed through the majority of the ceremony.
Oops.
“Prince Richard. With the blessing of your kingdom, do you now take this woman to be your wife, to lead her and guide her, to serve your people alongside her, to grow in love and kindness, with nothing stopping you but death?”
Richard’s shoulders pulled back in a deep breath at the familiar words. He hesitated just long enough for Brandon to feel panic rise, then: “You have my word.”
“And you, Princess Violet.” The sage turned to face her, her dark eyes wide with determination and a shadow of fear. “With the blessing of your kingdom, do you now take this man to be your husband, to follow him and support him, to serve your people alongside him, to grow in love and patience, with nothing stopping you but death?”
Violet’s voice was strong despite her trembling lips. “You have my word.”
The sage nodded and looked to Brandon and Dahlia; they stepped forward to each raise up a crystal the size of an egg, hers a deep purple and his a deep red. Richard pivoted in place to take his crystal from Brandon while Violet received hers from her sister.
Richard held out his crystal in front of him, letting the light glimmer off it. Violet raised hers to be of the same height as Richard’s, and the sage cupped his hands around their hands, covering the gleaming light they both emitted. He spoke quietly with his eyes closed, and two bright flashes showed through their entwined hands.
He released their hands and stepped back, Violet and Richard each holding their crystals still, but now they were equally swirled with red and purple.
“Let no one interfere with what the Author has blessed; the Void take any who would.” He looked to Richard. “A kiss to seal what is.”
Violet looked up at Richard, her eyes searching his face while she subtly bit her lip. Brandon wished he could see Richard’s expression. His brother’s shoulders hunched forward slightly, as if in pain. Richard leaned forward and gave a minute nod before Violet stretched up to peck him on the lips.
They were married. It was done.
The sweet relief that coursed through Brandon at reaching this point of the day was all consuming. The end of the ceremony went by in a flurried haze, and so he was surprised to find himself outside the throne room do
ors with Sapphire and an organized crowd of guests, Dahlia nowhere in sight.
Sapphire’s hand waved in front of his face. “Hello. Is Brandon home?”
He blinked down at his wife. “Huh?”
She laughed at his expression and tugged on his arm. “Come on, it’s time to celebrate that we got through the first part of the day without incident. Time for the banquet—and then the ball!” Brandon stumbled after her, amused by her enthusiasm and suddenly trepidatious when remembering there were two more events today.
She glanced over her shoulder. “No more worrying. They are married and the most important part of the day is done. Everyone will be too busy eating and drinking to rile him up, and the ball will be a distraction. It’ll be alright. Who knows? Maybe he’ll lighten up in a few weeks, and things will smooth out.”
Brandon shook his head at her optimism. “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Slate
Slate blew out a breath as he approached the Phoenix, basking in the babble and sounds of work from those inside as he stepped onto the planked walkway that embraced the airship. His mind still whirled with the discovery of the break-in at Finn’s a few days ago, and he was determined to do his best to forget about it for at least fifteen minutes. He and Zane had done their best to clean the mess while investigating, and neither of them, nor any of the Monomi who had come to help, could figure out who had done it, let alone what they’d been after. Zane was there today, and he’d all but pushed Slate out the door to take a break.
The back hatch of the ship was rolled up, allowing Slate a glimpse at the two skiffs inside. He backed up, trying to peer over the edge of the top deck before walking in. Someone shouted something, and muffled laughter followed, but no one went by the railed edges up above. He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped into the shadowed interior, looking for any of the crew.
A large holding cell for live cargo to his right stood empty, and a bright green sign hung on the face of the coldbox next to it, proclaiming the interior empty of any dragon parts. Ropes and tack hung on the wall behind the skiffs, and he recognized several of the dragon-specific weapons. Electro-staff, hydropack, net-cannon. Slate smirked to himself. Mother would be pleased to know that he remembered all she’d shown him last year.
Something thudded around the corner, where he could only guess would be the capstan drop zone, or maybe the engine room, or even a bunk room. How was it that this was his first time belowdecks on Samantha’s airship? And she wasn’t even here to give him a tour. I’m here to find her, he reminded himself. He wasn’t just wandering about for the sake of it.
He walked through the wide entryway and pulled up short, barely restraining a low whistle. Now he knew why Samantha had felt as strong as she did when he’d hugged her last time. She was toned. Her back was to him as she reached up and pulled a box off a shelf, the dim lighting doing nothing to hide her dirt-streaked arms and biceps. This was the first time he’d seen her so dressed down, in just a thin sleeveless working blouse and half-bodice. Hair stuck out in every direction from her messy braid, and when she turned to jot something on a clipboard, he could see that the dust smudges on her arms matched a large smear on her cheek.
She was gorgeous.
He was a goner.
She opened the box, humming to herself as she tugged the clipboard to write something else down. Inventory, perhaps?
Garnet loved inventory. Anything with numbers and arithmetic and everything in its proper place. He felt his eyes widen at the thought of his twin. She worked for their mother. Did … did Garnet already know Samantha? Garnet preferred the paperwork side of things, so maybe not. But it also wouldn’t really surprise him if Garnet did. She always knew more than she let on. Then again, she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for so long, if she even suspected anything between him and the captain of the Phoenix.
There’s no way that Garnet knew Samantha, he concluded with a small sigh of relief.
“Are you going to lurk there all day like some creepy stalker, or are you going to come help me out, handsome?”
Slate jumped and hurried forward, wincing as he blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you—”
“You didn’t think I was aware of you standing there?” A disbelieving laugh burst out of Samantha as she looked up from her clipboard. She waved her pencil at him. “I’m not the captain here for nothing. I know when someone comes in the main deck doors, you know.” She smiled, reducing the sting of the chiding.
“Sorry. I got lost in thought.” Slate rubbed the back of his head. “How can I help?”
Samantha shot him a knowing look before turning to point to a wood crate on a shelf above her head. “Can you reach that? I was planning to go upstairs later and ask Michael or Keene to pull it down, but since you’re here”—her cheek dimpled—“I may as well put those muscles of yours to good use.”
He rolled the cuffs of his shirt up to his forearms and tugged the cravat off his neck and set it on a corner box that held Samantha’s discarded bolero jacket. He rocked to the tips of his boots and gripped the worn wood firmly before tugging it out. His breath huffed out as the full weight of the box shifted, but he smoothly brought it down and to the pile that Samantha pointed to.
“Thanks.” She skimmed her arm against his as she reached past him to snatch a crowbar, making quick work of popping the lid off. She gently brushed sawdust around, revealing and hiding what looked like quite a few ceramic vases painted with the bright colors and patterns like those preferred in Piovant. She looked around, confusion creasing her brow until Slate handed the clipboard over. Her eyes sparkled. “Thanks.” She wrote down her numbers, dropped the lid back in place, then sat on it, gripping the edge with her fingers while she tilted her face up at him. “So, what brought you by today? I suppose I should assume it’s not just you wanting to help with inventory.”
Slate crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby shelf pillar. “Who says I can’t just come by to visit?”
“Oh, you’re welcome to drop by whenever,” she replied, swinging her feet out, but not letting her boots hit the box. “I’m just guessing there’s more to it than a simple hello.”
“Busted.” Slate tightened his arm muscles in an effort to prevent himself from fidgeting under her gaze. “Do you like discus?”
Samantha’s head bobbed up, excitement adding a glow to her entire face. “Who doesn’t?”
Could she be any more perfect for him? A shiver of some unnameable emotion ran through him, and he swallowed hard. “Well, the big discus tournament will be hosted here in Doldra in a few weeks, so I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?” He pointed up to the ceiling. “And, if you want, we could make it a double date, take Rebecca and Michael with us?”
Samantha slid off the crate and grabbed him in a hug, pinning his arms to his sides. “That would be marvelous!” She spun away as quickly as she came over, leaving his exposed skin tingling with the aftershocks of her affection. She shoved her crate-turned-seat under a shelf, then she marked it with a piece of blue chalk. “Thank you,” she spoke over her shoulder. He could see the tell-tale grin when she turned her face. “The tournament is in a few weeks, right?”
He scanned the room for something helpful to do, but he didn’t want to interfere with her system. It felt weird to just stand there, watching her work while he did absolutely nothing. “It’s in three weeks, yes.” He frowned as she flipped through the papers on her board. “Do you think you’ll be here in that time?”
“In three weeks? Yes. We get a week of vacation soon, and we’d already all agreed on staying in Doldra for the tournament time.” She stood and dusted her hands against her pants, leaving more streaks. She shook her head at her clothing ruefully before moving toward him, her gaze just over his shoulder. “Can you help move this one next, please?”
He side-stepped to see what she was pointing to. “Of course.”
She pulled her messy braid out while he tugged on the heavy
box, and he caught a whiff of berries as she ran her fingers through her curls. “Just pull it out enough so I can open it, please.” She started re-braiding her dark hair as she walked around, facing him. “Are you thinking casual or formal for a double date?”
Slate grunted as he threw his weight into pulling the crate out. His boots skidded on the floor, and his shirt sleeves felt too tight as he strained, but inch-by-inch the stubborn box slid out. He let go once the top was fully free of the upper shelf, and he immediately flexed the feeling back into his fingers. “What do you prefer?”
She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked over the box at him. “Either works. Formal is fun, but casual fits the theme of a sport tournament.”
“Then let’s go with casual.” He stretched his arm across his chest, giving her a curious frown when her grin broadened. “What?”
Samantha toed the box with her boot. “This was the heaviest box in here, and it took two men to move it into place.” She peeked up at him through her long lashes. “I’m impressed.”
A burst of pride warmed his chest, and he sauntered over leisurely, enjoying the flush in her cheeks as he neared. “Is that why you wanted me to move it? To test my strength?” He teased, stopping just within arm’s distance of her. “Did I pass?”
Samantha’s eyes sparkled. “You passed quite awhile ago.” The humor melted away, exposing self-doubt. Her voice dimmed, nearly a whisper. “I don’t know if I’ve passed any of your tests though. I don’t have the same fierce dedication to my country. I protect my family like you do yours, but you …” She shook her head, not meeting his gaze.
He closed the gap between them, cautious to leave her an opening to escape, just in case he made her uncomfortable with the intensity roiling through him at her sudden uncertainty. He braced a hand against the shelf behind her, not daring to touch her with the fire raging under his skin, knowing that a single moment of contact could light everything in a blaze in the best of ways and in the worst of times. “I wouldn’t be here, if I hadn’t chosen you. You are utterly irresistible. Smart. Brave. Strong.” He shook his head at her, feeling a tremor of frustration at his inadequacy of words. He ached to hug her and banish the doubt. “You are amazing, Samantha. And I look forward to getting to know you even better, with every spare minute we have.”
