by Kim Stokely
Geran coughs at my side.
It’s my cue to continue with the greeting. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate the Lady Kennis’s wedding to Quinn, the Elder. Both have sacrificed much to see that I was safe from the hands of the Mystics and that I became your Queen.”
Lord Cedric bellows out a hearty, “Here, here!”
The rest of the people cheer, “Huzzah!”
I try not to giggle. Huzzah? Really? “Geran? Would you lead us in a prayer before we eat?”
I bow my head, but sneak a look at my mother as Geran prays. Her blonde hair is braided but Reesa has left some long curls cascading down her back. The blue of her gown deepens the color of her eyes. She catches my gaze and smiles. She has never looked so happy.
At the end of the prayer, the feasting begins. Hundreds of servants carrying platters of food dance about the room to the various tables. Of course, being queen has its advantages and my table is served first. Seasoned roasted lamb, rolls of various colors and sizes, apple compote and glazed carrots are set in front of me. I take a little of everything and dig in.
During the meal, several musicians take turns playing tunes on their instruments. One has a small harp, another a wooden recorder and still another, a mandolin. From my perch on the dais, I watch the various conversations, arguments, and flirtations going on around the room. Lady Bronwyn’s family is sitting at the same table as Lord Cedric and several of his sons. My friend’s gaze seldom leaves her plate. Her father and Cedric are caught up in an animated discussion.
“Your Majesty.”
My spying is disrupted by a new minstrel. He is taller than the others, dressed in a long, hooded cloak of midnight blue that casts a shadow so his face is hidden. The man bows deeply even as he pulls a mandolin from his back.
“May I be allowed to sing for you and your fine company?” Brown hands dance across the strings, producing a clear, sweet tone.
I look toward Kennis who gives me a slight nod. I turn back to the minstrel. I almost say Go for it, but catch myself. “We would love to hear you sing.”
I’m a little surprised when the minstrel doesn’t push back his hood, but I soon forget about it as his voice transports me, and everyone in the room, to the scene of an epic battle. A small but valiant group of men faced an army of Mystics. One soldier lifted a prayer to Ruahk and the men rallied. Hundreds of Mystics were killed at their hands until, and here the singer’s voice grows soft, the last of the heroes was defeated. Several men, including Lord Cedric and my father, wipe their eyes when the singer finishes.
“Another song!” Shout many in the dining hall. “Another!”
“A love song!” Calls an older woman with a missing front tooth. “For the wedding.”
The minstrel hesitates only a moment before his strong voice carries us all into another story. This one is about a young Mystic who sees an Elder girl traveling to Uz with her family. Of course he immediately falls in love with her. Their romance is secret, each afraid of what their families will say when such a love is revealed. I’m completely engrossed until my father makes a low growl by my side.
Geran’s face is hard as stone. It’s obvious he doesn’t like this song. A quick glance around the room clearly indicates most of the Elders don’t appreciate the singer’s choice. Most of the Commoners, especially the girls, are as enthralled as I am as they listen to the minstrel’s mellow voice.
His fingers beat against the body of the mandolin to represent the drums of a battle. The Mystics in the song are marching across the Elder Plains, burning fields and destroying villages. The young Mystic sneaks away from the army to warn his beloved and her family of his army’s approach. She and her family are saved, but his treachery is discovered by his commanding officers. The Mystic is tied to a stake to be burned. But as the flames lick at his feet, his love appears to him. She takes him in her arms and transports him through a passage to safety. Though unwelcome by either of their families, the two eventually wed and live among the Commoners.
The nobles clap their hands enthusiastically while the Elders sit stoically. Geran’s face is especially hard.
I lean toward him. “There are good Mystics, you know. I’ve met them.”
He glowers at me. “I have not.” His voice grows in volume. “The song is a fantasy. No. A heresy.”
The minstrel, who had wandered among the tables as he sang, now approaches the dais. “So you do not believe a Mystic would die for the woman he loves, Elder Geran?”
“No.” My father’s eyes survey the room before focusing on the musician. “I do not.”
“And there are no decent Mystics? Not even one?”
Geran scowls. “Not even one.”
“What about half of one?”
“What?”
My skin tingles as the minstrel reaches up to sweep off his hood. “Kyran!”
He nods toward me but his eyes are still focused on my father. “I have sworn to protect your daughter with my life, Geran. And I will keep that vow.” He takes a step toward him. “So you see, there is at least half a Mystic, wholly devoted to the queen.”
CHAPTER TEN
The Wedding
“By Epona,” Lady Moira sighs as she sits down at the window seat. “Your betrothed is a handsome man.” Her brown eyes look off dreamily into space. I’ve seen the same look on Fenella and Julia’s faces.
“What does that mean?” I warm my hands by the fireplace. “’By Epona’?”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “It’s something the Mystics say. Some god of theirs, I think.” She shifts so she can sit on her legs. “Did you know he could sing?”
“Epona?”
“No, silly! Kyran.”
“I didn’t know.” Her enthusiasm for my future husband is a reminder of how little experience I have with men and how much he has with women. “I told you, we don’t know much about each other at all. There hasn’t been time.”
She folds her arms around herself. “If you excuse me for being bold, Your Majesty, I would make time to be with a man like him.”
My fingers drum along the mantle. “Where’s Lady Bronwyn today?” When Moira doesn’t answer, I glance over toward the window. The dreamy look in her eyes has been replaced with sadness. “What’s wrong?”
“She is attending her father and Lord Cedric this morning in the library. They are drawing up the betrothal contract.”
My stomach sinks. “Oh.” I meander over to a chair and sit. “My father defended him. He’s supposedly caring and very brave.”
“And very old,” Lady Moira whispers. “I pray for someone younger and more handsome.”
A light rap on the door announces the arrival of Simon. The poor man has looked frazzled the past couple of days, trying to keep up with the last minute preparations for the wedding and the various requests and bills that need my attention. Today is no exception. His round cheeks sag slightly and there are dark circles under his eyes.
“Your Majesty, the Joint Assembly requests a meeting with you this morning.”
I get the same pit in my stomach as I used to whenever my Geometry teacher announced a pop quiz. “It’s Kennis’s wedding day.”
Simon nods. “It will not be a long meeting, but the invitations for your court must be written out today.”
“What court? Who’s on trial?”
My plump secretary frowns. His eyebrows draw so close together they appear to grow together as one.
Lady Moira giggles from the window seat. “He means your attendants, Your Majesty.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “My what?”
She glances down at her hands as if she’s embarrassed about something. “Every queen has ladies to attend her. Companions, if you will.”
“Oh.” I look between her and Simon. “Do I get to choose, or does the Assembly?”
“The Assembly must approve of a candidate.” Simon smiles toward Lady Moira, who appears to be fascinated by something in the rug. “But if you have a preference, you may certain
ly make it known.”
“Is it a good thing or a bad thing? I mean, is it something they want to do or is it a bummer—I mean, a burden?”
Simon seems to have shrugged off some of his fatigue. “I cannot see how being an attendant to a queen, being allowed to stay in the palace and meet new people, would benefit anyone.” His eyes twinkle as Lady Moira’s head pops up. “It cannot be an exciting life for a young woman, especially when compared with life on her family’s estate, under constant parental supervision, with brothers and sisters underfoot.”
I play along with Simon’s joke, even though I know it’s killing my friend. “When you put it that way, it seems a shame to ask anyone to be attendant. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
Moira lets out a small squeak before lowering her chin to stare again at the floor.
I can’t keep a straight face. “Unless you want to stay in Uz, Moira?”
“Oh, please, Your Majesty.” She practically jumps to her feet. “It would be such a great honor!”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” She nods her head furiously.
“Do you think Lady Bronwyn would like to stay as well?”
Her smile fades. “Attendants cannot be married.”
“Does being betrothed count as married?”
Confusion clouds her face. This is one of the reasons I like her so much, she’s easy to read. “I’m not sure.”
Simon coughs lightly. “It is something you can discuss with the Joint Assembly. If you will follow me.”
Lady Moira curtsies as I leave.
Within the next hour, the Assembly and I have agreed on five attendants to make up my court: Lady Moira, daughter of Lord Rafer of Olwen; Lady Siobhan, daughter of Lord Melor of Mistfall; Hanna, granddaughter of the Elder, Oded; Ivah, daughter of the Elder, Isaias; and finally, the Lady Bronwyn, daughter of Lord Wallace of Southern Sharne. Sometimes it’s good to be the queen, especially when you can bend the rules for a friend.
Simon and Devnet write up the invitations that will be delivered to the girls’ parents at Kennis’ wedding banquet tonight. A formal presentation will be made before the families head back to their homes, leaving their daughters behind in the castle.
I tap my fingers against the table, waiting for the invitations so I can sign them. “Can we hurry this up a bit?”
Simon lifts the parchment in front of him and blows on it. “I can bring the rest to your room before the ceremony.”
“Thanks.” I scribble my name on the note he’s finished before running out. When I get to my rooms, I find Tamra has bitten her nails to the quick, waiting for me to return so she can get to work. It takes her several hours, but by the time I am called to the chapel, she’s turned me into the picture perfect queen.
My mother is stunning. Her blonde hair has been swept up into a simple chignon and a delicate tiara of pearls adorns her head. I wanted her to wear a traditional white gown, but she argued it wouldn’t be appropriate since she’s been married before, even though neither of us consider her marriage to Braedon a real one. Instead, she chose a blush-colored brocade. My own dress is champagne velvet, covered in tiny beads that twinkle in the torch light. I tried to get my mother to let me wear something a little less flashy, but she insisted my dress sparkle more than hers. She’s never liked being the center of attention, but it can’t be helped today. Even with my showier dress, the pale pink hue of her gown illuminates her skin so my mother seems to glow.
Quinn stands next to her, his shaggy brown hair has been trimmed so it barely touches the nape of his neck. Instead of an Elder robe, he’s wearing a linen tunic and pants. Intricate geometric patterns in deep blue and emerald thread are embroidered on the cuffs and down the front of his ivory-colored tunic. His eyes never leave my mother’s face.
Kennis insisted the ceremony be a small one, so only a few of us stand in the chapel as witnesses. Devnet and Geran are to my left, while Kyran, Oded and Simon are to my right. The members of the Joint Assembly fill in the benches behind us, along with Reesa, Tamra and a few other servants. Geran was shocked servants would be allowed to attend, but then, my mother and I have never followed protocol.
I haven’t had much chance to talk to Kyran since his performance in the hall last night. He came up on the dais and kissed my hand while a servant placed a chair next mine. He told me a little of his exploits in the Common Lands as he ate a quick dinner. He excused himself soon after, confessing exhaustion from riding hard to arrive in time for the wedding. I hadn’t seen him again until he walked into the chapel. I glance up now to find him staring at me. He doesn’t smile before turning his attention back to the ceremony.
The smell of incense drifts through the chapel as Maris walks down the aisle toward my mother and Quinn. An Elder follows her, carrying a smoldering bowl of spices and herbs. I can’t place the scents. They aren’t the familiar ones of sandalwood or lavender. Instead, these call up images of ancient ceremonies and forgotten times. The fragrant haze settles over the guests as my grandmother steps around to face the couple. The man following her places the incense on the altar then moves away.
“Before the world was formed,” Maris chants, “before the sun first burned in the sky, before there was time, there was Ruahk.” She lifts her arms toward the ceiling. “He was, he is and he will always be.” She lowers her arms to her sides. “But he desired relationship. He desired to be known and to be loved. So he sent himself out into the void and created the universe, the earth, and all life.”
The incense continues to smolder, burning my eyes, making me blink. My grandmother’s voice fades, becoming distorted and unintelligible. I find myself watching the event from outside myself, as if I’ve Spirit Traveled above the chapel. I don’t move, but the ceremony melts away.
I find myself face-to-face with a man. A soldier, by his breastplate and sword strapped to his waist. He is taller than me by at least a foot and broad shouldered, like a linebacker on a pro football team. Light emanates from him, making it hard to look at him.
Be careful, Alystrine, defender of mankind.
His voice rings through my head like a trumpet blast. I want to fall to my knees, but an unseen hand holds me up. Who are you?
I am one of the Messengers. A servant of the Most High. I come in warning. The enemy seeks to defeat you before the appointed time of battle. You must be vigilant. You must remember your destiny.
Before I can ask him anything more, he disappears in a flash of light. My body jerks as if I’ve tripped upstairs and I’m again aware of my mother’s wedding.
“Are you unwell?” Kyran whispers.
My skin crawls with goose bumps. “I’m fine.”
But I’m not. What did the Messenger mean? What’s going to happen? I try to focus on the ceremony and not my fear.
Maris holds the couple’s hands in hers. “As Ruahk has called us into communion with him, he has given us marriage as a tangible example of His love.” She turns to my mother. “Do you, Kennis, daughter of Queen Vanora, take Quinn, the Elder, as your husband?”
My mother’s eyes shine as brightly as the Messenger in my vision. “I do.”
Maris repeats the question to Quinn, who almost interrupts her in his desire to answer as quickly as possible. It’s as if he thinks his luck will finally wear out and someone will stop the ceremony before everything is official.
My grandmother removes a rope from the pocket of her gown and ties their hands together. “As you are now bound to each other, bind yourselves also to Ruahk. Follow him in all you do and may he richly bless your union.” She removes and pockets the rope before turning the couple around to face the witnesses. “I command all of you here to bear witness to this union. Keep them accountable to each other and to God. I present to you, Quinn and Kennis, now man and wife.”
Tears of joy stream down both their faces as they step toward me then kneel. My own cheeks are wet when I reach out to touch their shoulders. I’m so caught up in the moment, I can’t r
emember what Maris has coached me to say. I look to her in panic. She grins and mouths it is my pleasure.
“It is my pleasure, as ruler of Ayden,” my voice trembles as I struggle against my tears. “To declare this union legal and binding throughout the land, from this day until the time of your death.”
Quinn stands first. Kennis places her hand on his so he can help her up. As soon as she’s on her feet again, I give her a hug. It’s not proper etiquette, but I don’t care.
She whispers, “Thank you,” over and over again. Quinn joins in the embrace and says the same thing.
Maris nudges the couple to head out of the chapel.
Kennis’ face beams as she kisses my cheek one more time. “Now the fun begins!”
After the wedding banquet, I have to sit on the dais and meet the guests as the servants clear away the long tables to make room for dancing. On the plus side, at least I get to sit on a chair, or rather, throne, instead of having to stand like the rest of my family. I’ve been coached by Geran and Kennis on how to properly greet the different lords, ladies and Elders.
Lord Cedric bows grandly, his barrel chest looking even broader in the formal tunic he wears. “Congratulations, Lady Kennis and Elder Quinn. I pray you be blessed with long life and many children!”
The old man shifts his focus to me. “Your Majesty, you are radiant this evening. May I have the pleasure of introducing you to my future bride? This is the Lady Bronwyn and her parents, Lord and Lady Wallace”
Bronwyn seems like a child next to him. Her blonde hair has been curled into ringlets held back by a beautiful jeweled headband. She drops into a deep curtsy. As she rises, her eyes catch mine and she mouths thank you. I smile. She must know I’ve managed to make her a lady-in-waiting, at least until she’s married.
