Well Armed Brides: A Novel of the Highmage's Plight (Highmage’s Plight Series Book 5)
Page 4
:She will need a lot more daggers.:
“I heard that,” Fri’il said.
Se’and glanced at her, “Uh, that’s lovely, but I take it you did not read all this?”
“Huh?” Fri’il replied, draping the gown over her arm.
“You can’t take it off once you’ve put it on… and, for some reason, Her Majesty added that no weapon may touch it.”
“What? That’s ridiculous,” she said, glancing at her sheathed sword and her brace of daggers.
“Don’t worry, our gowns will only exist for another day.”
George winced as Se’and sighed, her matching anklet, twinkling in silent empathic rapport. “What was that?” George asked, catching a glimmer of something else.
“You haven’t read up on what you’re expected to wear for the wedding, have you?”
“Um…” he muttered.
:You read the protocols. It did not mention anything about what you are expected to wear.: George’s face went completely still. :Oh, George.:
Fri’il and Se’and laughed.
“I will not!” he cried.
#
Aaprin stared. “What’s that?”
Gallen glared, hardly daring to touch it. “Elvinsilk.”
“Um, I thought that stuff was myth.”
“You’ve never been to a High Elvin wedding.”
“And you have?”
Gallen, former Urchin Prince and now apprentice human mage, shook her head. “I’m expected to wear that which will impede my being able to illusion myself out of this.”
“Huh?” Aaprin muttered.
“You can’t wear anything else beneath it!”
“Oh.” His eyes widened as she passed her hand behind the material, which was for practical purposes transparent, though, colors patterned around her hand. “Oh!”
“You are going to stand right beside of me, understand?”
The elblood senior apprentice to Highmage Je’orj du Bradlei frowned. “I thought…”
“What?” she said. “What? That I wouldn’t find this embarrassing?”
“But, um, in the ballads husbands stand beside their, uh, ladies.”
Gallen canted her head, “Aaprin… we’re going to a High Elvin wedding… as a couple. You know the ballads.”
“Um,” his eyes widened. “You mean…”
“We’ll be married from that moment on, but don’t start getting any ideas!” Thud. “By the Empress, oh, Aaprin!”
#
Cle’or stared. “Did you read that? They can’t expect me to wear that in front of all those people unarmed!”
Balfour stared at the invitation and read it again.
“Well?” Me’oh said, staring at her open box of Elvinsilk.
“Uh, Cle’or,” he said, “I heartily agree. This won’t do, at all.”
She nodded, “Good.”
“I’m only officially marrying Me’oh.”
“What?” Me’oh cried, rushing into his arms, cradling their baby girl, Rachiel, who gave a startled cry.
Cle’or frowned, thinking her mother would be pleased, at least. “Oh, well… unless… hmm.”
#
Downstairs in the main hall, Revit and Terus were staring at the older fosterling, Ander, who was quite mature looking now that she wasn’t banding her breasts to disguise herself. She stared at the Elvinsilk in the box with her name on it. “They expect me to wear only that?”
The elvin boy and his near twin, though human, best friend, gaped, knowing they were on the invitation list, too.
The dwarf, Spiro, re-read the invitation scroll pertaining to that part. A now ever-present black robed, somewhat short, warder mage, glared from the dark depths of his cowl at his charges, Revit and Terus. The near twin mageling apprentices, now officially masters at the Mage Academy, to all but there but in Lord Je’orj’s estimation, looked far too gleeful.
Spiro glanced at the short warder mage, who was clearly less than pleased by the attention Ander was getting. Good thing warders had no need of invitation lists. Perhaps, that one could help keep the pair out of trouble during the wedding.
Spiro’s partner Tett was going through the stack of remaining boxes, then glanced over the invitation’s list again. “Revit, Terus, nothing here for you, Aaprin, or Balfour, either.”
Seeing the pair frown, Spiro explained, “You are still rather young… so just make sure not to touch anyone during the ceremony. That could make things awkward.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Ander said.
“It’s a High Elvin Wedding,” Spiro replied. “That means the unmarried guests will be getting married.”
“But I’m invited,” Ander said.
“Uh, quite,” Spiro replied.
“I’m not getting married.”
“Well, you are of age.”
“And who am I supposed to be marrying?” Ander glared.
“That’s why I was checking the wording.”
“What do you mean by that?” she replied as Revit and Terus looked at each other, still confused.
“Let me explain it to these two,” their warder mage said, grabbing their arms and half dragging them into the main hall behind them. The doors shut themselves with a resounding thud.
Raven stopped at the base of the stair, glanced back at the box with her name on it and raced back up the steps.
Juels shook her head, “What’s Gallen shouting about?”
Ander glared, “I can’t imagine… Now how’s that wording?”
Spiro frowned, “Tett, look at this…” The dwarf took the scroll and read. A name on the list puzzled him. “Who the Bloody Hell is the Lady Babylon?”
Juels answered, “Lord Je’orj’s horse. She’s, uh, boarding at the palace with Her Majesty.”
Eyes widening, Spiro stared at her. “Uh, she’s invited with Raven.”
“Well, that sounds considerate, inviting Lord Je’orj’s horse to attend him,” Tett said, clearly amused. “Hmm, Ander, you and Juels are listed after Aaprin and Gallen, before Revit and Terus.”
Ander turned to Spiro, who now paced back and forth, thinking aloud, “That’s how I read it, but you know elvin scrolls can often read differently for someone else… Hmm, in that case, Ander, I believe you have options.”
Juels did a double take.
“Options?” Ander rasped.
“If Gallen doesn’t marry Aaprin, you can.”
“What? Aaprin? Aaprin… You can’t be serious…” She met his gaze and swallowed, “Fine, and if she does?”
“Oh, you’ll be affianced to either Revit or Terus. Just don’t touch either of them, that can be seen as… intent to, uh, marry instead.”
Juels winced, having a feeling that the warder knew the wedding ballads.
“I… will… not,” Ander exclaimed.
Juels went with her luck. “You and I have been adopted Cathartan, that lends you another option.”
“What? Don’t tell me… I can marry Lord Je’orj?”
“Uh, no,” she half-whispered, “you can marry Aaprin regardless of what Gallen does.”
Spiro glanced at Juels, surprised at her insight. “She’s right… that could work.”
And it’s much better than the alternative, Juels told herself, not having liked Revit and Terus’s suddenly happy looks one bit.
“Uh, I think I need to sit down,” Ander said moving to the kitchen table and banged her head against the tabletop. “I am not getting married to Aaprin.”
Nothing’s ever easy, is it? Juels thought.
Only learning that now? a voice out of the ether replied.
Eyes wide, she turned, coughing.
That’s when Ander noticed Spiro looking quizzically at Juels. “What about her?”
“She’s a child… she won’t be expected to marry,” Spiro replied too quickly, knowing wearing Elvinsilk would make this complicated for her… but being adopted Cathartan might just make her bound. That might give Revit and Terus pause to behav
e themselves.
Juels winced, knowing her luck was playing with her. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be right next to you, Ander. My gown should be a bit more modest, shouldn’t it?”
Spiro thought back at the ballads, half-remembering something about that, but was not certain. “Of course.”
Chapter 4 - Much to Consider
“Get her out of your heads!” the warder shouted within the privacy ward suddenly around them.
“But...” Revit began.
“… it’s not like we’re old enough to marry,” Terus finished.
“Oh, really? As far as I’m concerned, you two are spoken for.”
“Now, you’re just, um, our warder.”
“I’m bloody bonded to you or would you prefer to complete the proper warder process with, uh, me?”
“Uh, no thanks,” Revit said as Terus looked at him.
“It’s your fault,” the black cloaked warder said, “I’m… like this.”
“Well, it’s all worked out for the best,” Terus replied.
“Oh, really?”
“Well, the capital didn’t explode,” Revit added.
“And Je’orj is Highmage and didn’t leave our world they second he could.”
“Uh huh… and one of you isn’t about to get affianced to Ander, out there?”
“What?” they squeaked.
#
Raven was licking his face. Aaprin woke with a start. “Ugh, what happened?”
Gallen frowned, “You don’t remember?”
“Huh?”
He saw the Elvinsilk gown and his eyes widened. “We’ll be married.”
“Oh, you do remember,” she replied.
“I’ll… I’ll have to stand there naked.”
“Oh, you—” Gallen shoved him back to the floor.
“Ouch.”
There was a knock on the open door. Gallen turned as Ander entered, looking distinctly unhappy. “Uh, I’m on the invitation list after you.”
Gallen’s eyes widened. “Oh, my.”
“Gallen…” Ander said, hesitantly. “I really don’t want to become affianced to Revit or Terus.”
Aaprin rose as Raven just turned and stared.
“Are you asking me if I intend to marry Aaprin?” Gallen said.
“Uh, no…” she replied.
“Good because that, my dear, is none of your business.”
“Is it mine?” Aaprin asked, not certain it was a good idea to actually stand up.
“Shut up,” Gallen replied.
“Um,” Ander said, “actually… since I’m Cathartan, I guess, uh, it doesn’t matter if you are or not. There’s no way I’m marrying Revit or Terus one day.”
Raven took a step back, then rolled over laughing.
Aaprin frowned as Gallen shouted, “You can’t! Raven, stop that, you may be a child, but you’re on the invitation list, too. Or didn’t you notice the box with your name on it?”
Raven rolled over with a whimper. ‘I hate clothes.’
Ander shook her head, “This is ridiculous… I don’t want to get married.”
Gallen gave her a long look.
“Well…” Ander muttered.
“You didn’t. You weren’t…” Gallen half whispered.
“Well…” Ander whispered.
Eyes narrowed, Gallen rasped, “Ruke. I’ll break his… arm for this.”
“Gallen!” Ander said, sounding stricken.
“You like him that much?” she replied.
“He’s… um…”
Aaprin crossed his arms, “I don’t want to know, do I?”
“You want to marry Ander?” Gallen said, glaring at him.
“No!”
“Then you better help,” she demanded.
“Okay, what kind of trouble am I supposed to get into now?” he asked, glancing worriedly at the shimmering Elvinsilk gown in Ander’s hands.
#
Cle’or didn’t bother to knock, ignoring what was going on in Aaprin’s room. “Lord Je’orj.”
He stared at the Elvinsilk gown in her arms. “Uh, that’s a lovely shade.”
“I won’t be standing by Bal.”
“Okay,” George said, it wasn’t as if he wanted to stand beside the Empress at the altar, either.
Fri’il and Se’and looked at each other, then at Cle’or, then nodded.
“Fine, that’s settled. Se’and, Fri’il, me and Lonny, right behind you at the altar.”
“What’s settled?” he asked as she turned and walked back out as he hastily called after her, “Uh, Cle’or, what’s settled?”
:Redistricting, I believe, might be the proper term.:
#
“But, Your Majesty…” Count Tristan pleaded before the Empress. “Lord Hayden erred in trusting Archmage Kolter… had he understood he would never have committed treason.”
“The point is, he has committed treason, Count,” the Empress declared from upon her throne before the Imperial Court. “I have stripped him of his rank and lands.”
“Which Archmage Kolter has usurped, my lord told me to warn you of, even now Kolter seeks to raise another army against you.”
Among those at Court, Lady Rowena was less than pleased to hear such news. She glanced about her. Lord Westerleaf, was among those of the Forty Families, who had received an invitation including them in the Bridal Party, but it was not one that would land him on the dais with the Empress. What he sought in audience with Her Majesty was yet unclear, but the power at Court was uncertain. The Empress’s force, which were not precisely regular Legionnaires, and the Imperial Guard, held the city. The members at Court were less than pleased to hear what the Imperial scryers only suspected.
Politics was making strange bedfellows. The traitorous mage Grendel’s family had abandoned him. His grandmother, the Lady Karolynia Otummond, recently became one of the Empress’s staunchest supporters, bringing the core members of the staunch conservatives, those whose families had not clearly rebelled, though they had pulled their kin from the Mage Academy. That was earning her family a spot on the bridal dais, though, not necessarily a trusted one.
Another was Lord Senason’s younger brother, Senian, who the Empress had thought might one day be her brother-in-law before Senason’s murder. He was not at ease at Court, but her invitation would help change that. Senian had been serving at the Northern Border as a junior officer. He stood watching the scene, looking uncomfortable in his lordly finery, as he ignored appraising glances from across the chamber.
The Empress’s half-sister, Carwina, stood at her left, while the Empress’s rather unusual bodyguard, Lonny, stood with a bane sword in hand, whose bared presence was making Tristan’s skin crawl.
“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” Lord Sianhiel said, “But freeing Hayden would demonstrate what, Tristan? That anyone can rebel against Her Majesty with impunity?”
“All I ask is you show mercy, Your Majesty. Consider freeing him to reclaim his lands from an archmage who has betrayed us all… After all,” he practically choked, “tomorrow is Your Majesty’s wedding day.”
“Believe me, I have shown a great deal of mercy,” the Empress replied.
Tristan frowned; his spies had not be able to find out what happened to Hayden’s mages, who seemed to have vanished without even a rumor as to their fate.
The Lady Lonny stood at the Empress’s side with a thin smile on her face, half praying that the Empress would order her to increase the number of rather large horses in the palace stable by one more.
“Good day, Count Tristan, I look forward to your attendance tomorrow.”
He bowed and left, knowing he was being watched by Her Majesty’s spymaster, Terhun, and the new Mistress of Scryers, Lady Esperanza, wife of Lord Lyai, whose legion had overturned all their carefully laid plans. That would make getting messages to Kolter particularly difficult, but that was understood when he had been sent back to the city.
#
The Lady Karolynia wanted to pace, sitting in her f
amily’s section beside her granddaughter, eyeing the invitation with displeasure. “It should have been your wedding, Grendel, not this upstart human’s,” she muttered.
Her fool son was apparently in the Imperial dungeon for his sins, ones even she could not forgive. She glanced to the right and left, considering. “Belina, though, letting someone else represent our family might offer us a remarkable opportunity, I have decided you will represent us…”
“Yes, Grandmother,” she replied, eyes bleak.
“You will do exactly as I tell you, unlike your fool father, understand?”
The young woman swallowed hard. “Yes, Grandmother.”
“You are not of an age where I can simply make an arrangement as I did for your father… an Imperial wedding creates… rather strong bonds.”
“The Elvinsilk…”
“Is magical. You must not feel self-conscious. It will do more than reflect you mood. With any luck, we can fully gain the Empress’s trust. Though, I admit it would have been easier to merely contract a birth when the time was right, but this honor offers us a different opportunity.” She looked at the posted groom’s and bridal party lists displayed by the entry. House names represented the majority of the list after the Empress’s close cousins. “We have little time to prepare… your prospects are uncertain. Our coalition does not rank as high as I would like. We deserve a better alliance… Grendel, would that I had strangled you at birth!”
Belina trembled and nodded, uncomfortable at the thought of wearing the Elvinsilk gown which would… She shook her head, fearing who she might find herself married to on the morrow as her grandmother schemed.
#
The Lady Rowena glanced at Belina, knowing without a doubt the thoughts that would be running through her head. Her life was not her own. Her grandmother would be looking for the best match and had no good options… not in a Court where her father had committed treason.
Her own invitation scroll was clutched in her hand, her Elvinsilk gown in her apartments in the palace. She knew she should be honored. She was not exactly in the Empress’s Inner Circle, but she had an honored place in the new Court.
She could contract, but that had not gone well the first time. Had she borne a son, she would have raised her child. Bearing Belina, however, had left her daughter to be raised by the father’s house.