“Nevertheless. I hate when things hurt you, love.” And what Amory’s father did, and had done, continued to hurt Amory, despite his professed resignation to it.
“And I hate when things hurt you.” Amory’s dark eyes were filled with the pain he felt on Philip’s behalf. “It can’t be your family, Pip. It can’t. There has to be someone else.”
“Because you don’t want me to be hurt?”
“Yes,” Amory said. There was amusement in his eyes at the absurdity of his own assertion. Nevertheless, Philip knew if Amory could make it so Philip wouldn’t have to feel that betrayal, he would. Philip hadn’t thought he could love Amory any more than he already did, but in that moment, love swamped him.
He pulled Amory to him and held him, burying his face in Amory’s curls, breathing in Amory’s scent. He whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Amory whispered back. But he held on just as tightly and let Philip snuggle in as close as he needed.
“For being you.” Only Amory could love so much, so completely, and Philip was grateful for it. After a second’s pause, he laughed a little. “That was horribly sentimental.”
“Yes, it was.” Amory said in a whisper, “But I liked it anyway.”
“Just don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Amory resumed stroking his fingers through Philip’s hair in the way Philip liked. “We’re going to find out who did this, and whoever it is, we’ll get through it together.”
They would. He had someone, someone standing with him. And they would find whoever was trying to hurt Amory, and they would get married, and they would live their lives together.
THE NEXT day, Amory felt well enough to spend the whole day out of bed, which was a good thing, since he and Philip were getting married in three days. Three days. He couldn’t quite believe it. Despite the weeks spent planning, the wedding hadn’t felt quite real. He supposed the distraction of attempted murder hadn’t helped him settle into the idea either. But the wedding was suddenly quite real. And the biggest thing he felt was joy. Oh, there were nerves too, both for the day itself, and for what came after—marriage to a prince and all it entailed—but those nerves were overshadowed by the utter joy that he was going to marry Philip. The rest… he meant what he said to Philip. They would get through it together.
Not everything about their wedding was the way tradition dictated, or the way they planned. The second attempt on Amory’s life changed everything. His recovery, even hastened by the healers, meant a few of the parties and events leading up to the wedding had to be canceled. Except for missing the winter fair in the city, he wasn’t disappointed by the cancellations, and many other events were going forward as planned. He didn’t tell Philip how he felt, but he had a feeling Philip knew. Philip always seemed to know. Most of the time Amory liked it.
He hoped Philip wasn’t getting suspicious of all the time Amory spent in the palace libraries. He didn’t want to tell Philip what he was looking for until he knew if there was something to be found, until he knew if it could work. With the wedding so soon and parties and gatherings every day, he didn’t have much time for research, but he stole time in the libraries again when he could despite beginning to think there was nothing to be found, that he had wasted a lot of time and gotten his hopes up for nothing.
Which, of course, was when he found something.
The day before the wedding, he snuck off for a little time in the library while Philip was in a meeting. He flipped pages, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to find anything, but unable to keep from looking through one more book. One last book. That one was a thick, dusty old tome that looked as if it hadn’t been taken from the out-of-the-way shelf in decades. And there it was, what Amory had been looking for all along. A spell, a potion, perhaps a way to give Philip something amazing. If it worked. The spell was complex magic, sorcery as well as healing, and far beyond his own limited knowledge and capabilities. He would have to consult Jadis and a sorcerer to see if it might be possible.
He sat back and stared at the words on the page, black ink only slightly faded by time. Just letters, words. So innocuous, and yet they could change his life. The rush of triumph, of excitement, was tempered by worry. He never imagined doing anything like what he was considering, never could have imagined it, but he was considering it. Could he do it?
“Yes.” He stopped and took a breath. Yes, he could do it. Not only for Philip, but for himself too, he could. His decision was only whether to go to Jadis or to Philip first. He didn’t want to get Philip’s hopes up if it couldn’t be done. But he also wanted to discuss it with Philip first, because they should decide together from the start. Philip should know before Amory talked to anyone else.
He wouldn’t talk with Philip that day. On the afternoon before their wedding, they didn’t have the time the discussion deserved. And maybe he wasn’t quite ready to talk about it. He needed to keep it to himself a little longer, to let it settle into his mind as a real possibility. It killed him to keep anything from Philip. It felt… wrong. But he needed to wait a little longer.
If Philip noticed how jittery Amory was, he must have attributed it to nerves over how public their wedding was going to be. But Amory couldn’t argue with how Philip chose to soothe him. He would never argue with that.
Then, the next day, they got married. The simple statement encompassed so much. The utter joy of marrying and starting a life with Philip made him almost giddy. Philip couldn’t seem to stop grinning as they dressed that morning either. Amory knew as soon as he woke it would be the best of his life.
Their wedding day was also possibly the longest day of Amory’s life. Every moment seemed to be spent in motion, from the moment he woke beside Philip. They’d chosen not to sleep separately the night before. They were lovers and had been lovers for quite some time, and everyone knew they were lovers. Sleeping apart would be a flimsy pretense that would make neither of them happy. It seemed more important to wake up happy on their wedding day.
They stole a few moments of quiet while eating breakfast together in the suite as they always did, and then they helped each other dress in clothes specially made for their wedding ceremony. Both sets of clothes were made of white silk and velvet, embroidered and trimmed in gold, the workmanship impeccable. The color and style were traditional for wedding clothes in Tournai, only the quality of the materials distinguishing them from wedding clothes of the lower classes. They had been tailored to fit his and Philip’s frames, but that didn’t make Amory comfortable in them. He was sure they didn’t look quite right on him. Philip, however, looked amazing. The clothes accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist, and he looked as if he’d been born wearing the ornate gold circlet that rested on his dark hair.
“You look incredible,” Philip said. Amory had been so enthralled with Philip’s appearance he hadn’t noticed Philip’s attention.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. You do.”
“Yes, you do,” Philip replied, his voice low and husky, his gaze heated. Amory shivered. Maybe he didn’t look so bad, if Philip was looking at him that way. Philip reached for him and pulled him close, kissing him long and slow. “Now. Let’s get married.”
The ceremony was held in the palace, the large throne room crowded with guests, despite whom Philip was marrying. Seeing the crowd alleviated some of Amory’s fears. He wouldn’t have cared if he and Philip exchanged vows in private, but for Philip’s sake, he wanted everyone to attend. He recognized many faces in the crowd, nobles he met during the months he had lived in the palace. Jadis was there, toward the back of the crowd, as were Vasco and his wife and siblings. Amory almost felt sorry for Lady Lilliale, sitting silently among her brothers. Her childhood infatuation was ending. Vasco’s presence made Amory feel awkward. Philip’s former lover had not warmed up to Amory in the time since they’d first met, and he was Philip’s former lover, but they couldn’t exclude a high-ranking family from the invitations.
&nbs
p; His own family was there, his father puffed up with pride and satisfaction, his older brother looking somewhat sour. But the rest of his family—his mother, Adeline, his other siblings—all looked happy. Tristan was there too, a bright grin lighting his face and a thread of wistfulness in his eyes. Tristan would be his witness in the ceremony. To Amory’s surprise, Philip had been comfortable with his choice when Amory broached the subject before asking Tristan.
Etan was Philip’s witness. Amory had a feeling that before Philip had been abandoned by much of his family, Philip might have chosen Cathal, but Cathal had walked away, even if he did try to come back, and Etan had been there. Philip and Etan were closer and probably always would be.
The real surprise was that the rest of Philip’s family chose to attend. Amory knew Elodie would be there and he was pretty sure Cathal would attend after his tentative overture a few days ago, but he hadn’t known what the rest of Philip’s family would do. It would have been a horrible insult if they hadn’t attended, but Amory hadn’t been sure that would stop them. He spent so much time worrying about what it would do to Philip if they didn’t attend the ceremony, both personally and as prince. The relief at seeing them there, aunts, uncles, and cousins, even if they didn’t all look as joyful as the occasion called for, swept through him, threatening to weaken his knees.
His mind chose that moment to remind him of Philip’s suspicions, and tension stiffened his muscles again. What if Philip’s family really had tried to kill Amory? Their presence at the wedding didn’t mean they hadn’t. A lot of people in the crowd were probably keeping up appearances and currying royal favor. But he was disconcerted to think someone who might have tried to harm him was there watching him marry Philip. He didn’t want to think of it, not on their wedding day. He only wanted to get married.
Everything blurred into a sea of faces and finery as he stood at the front of the room with Philip, only Philip’s dear face clear to him. The ceremony wasn’t short, the vows and pledges long, complicated, and very traditional, but the depth of joy and love in Philip’s eyes made it all right, would make anything all right. He had to blink back tears when they exchanged rings, gold bands worked in a complicated pattern representing love and loyalty. He stared at their joined hands adorned with matching gold rings before looking up. Philip’s eyes were damp too, but he was smiling hugely.
They were married. Amory’s whole world changed in that moment.
He would have liked to bask in that joy, but after the marriage ceremony came the part Amory was far less certain of—the coronation. He was marrying the prince, which came with new responsibilities, with a whole other public life attached to it that was more than a little daunting, but he would do it for Philip. He would do more than that for Philip.
He reminded himself of that as he made his oath, as a gold circlet was placed on his head. The crown was simpler in design than the one Philip wore, but it weighed heavily on Amory’s head. He wasn’t sure if that heaviness was more literal or metaphorical, but either way, he felt it. Panic fluttered in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be Philip’s consort. But then Philip was there in front of him, his gaze warm and radiating love and confidence in him. Philip believed in Amory, and he refused to let Philip down. So he stood tall next to Philip when with fanfare, they were announced as “Prince Philip Alexander Stefan Mael and his consort, Prince Amory.”
Amory’s head didn’t stop spinning for the rest of the day. After the ceremony, there was a short reception with light food and drink, but Amory and Philip managed to eat only a little. The guests all did their best to congratulate them before the end of the reception, even though most of the guests would be back later for a formal dinner and a ball to celebrate the marriage.
Neither he nor Philip was looking forward to the next part of the day—the parade through the city. Philip had eventually given in to the pressure of tradition to schedule it. They considered canceling it after the second attempt on Amory’s life, but that action had the potential to draw far more attention than they wanted. Philip ordered more guards and shortened the parade route. That last could have been for another reason. Philip was not looking forward to a long open carriage ride on a winter day.
The weather cooperated as much as it could at least. The day was chilly, but the sun was shining brilliantly in the icy blue sky. They bundled themselves into the white velvet cloaks that matched their wedding clothes, which hopefully would keep off the worst of the chill, and climbed into the carriage.
Philip crowded close to him as soon as they were both seated. He probably did it to share warmth, but Amory enjoyed the closeness. Having Philip pressed against his side helped as they passed through the palace gates and the crowds lining the streets began to cheer. He wanted to shrink in on himself but forced himself to sit straight and smile. Philip’s hand found his between them and held it tight. He smiled at Amory, his expression once again filled with confidence and encouragement.
“I love you,” Philip whispered in his ear.
“I love you too.” Amory took a deep breath. He could do it.
Philip nodded, and they turned to the cheering crowd. They spent the rest of the parade waving and throwing coins and sweets to the children in the crowd, another long-standing tradition. The carriage, a well-kept antique, was only used for parades at coronations and royal weddings. Servants in the stables had worked on it in the days leading up to the wedding, polishing the metal and touching up the white paint and gold leaf that covered the outside. The cushions had been replaced before Philip’s coronation, so they were marginally comfortable as the carriage rattled along the cobbles of the city’s main street. Well, they would have been comfortable if it weren’t so cold.
The people in the crowd didn’t seem to notice the cold. Waving and cheering, they filled both sides of the street, pressed together from the front of the buildings to the edge of the cobbles, which was as close as the guards surrounding the carriage would let them get. A few people jeered and yelled insults, but they were by far the minority and were swallowed up by the crowd. Still, Amory could feel the tension in Philip’s body pressed against his. He was as stricken hearing those yells, but they couldn’t let their reactions show, couldn’t let the crowd see they were affected. He squeezed Philip’s hand, hoping for comfort, for himself and for Philip.
With the press of people in the streets and the noise of their cheers and yells, Amory felt far too exposed in the carriage. He forced himself to push his shoulders straight because he kept hunching them. Frustration, along with a bit of anger, helped him in the battle. Because he wanted to run back to their palace suite where no one could hurt him, and that was… unacceptable. It was his wedding day. He should be happy, but he was scared and tense and worried. And he hated it.
“All right?” Philip asked him quietly, the smile still in place, but concern filling his gaze. He knew Amory far too well.
“Yes, of course.” He didn’t want Philip worried for him on their wedding day. Philip didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing more. Philip pressed closer to his side. Amory would never argue about being closer to Philip for any reason.
Chapter 13
BY THE time Philip and Amory reached the dinner and ball that night, Philip was heartily tired of wedding festivities and crowds and guards. He hadn’t had a moment alone with Amory since they dressed that morning, and time with Amory was all he wanted. Just a little time alone with Amory—poor Amory who was practically drooping next to him when they returned to the palace—to absorb that they were married and to bask in the joy of it for a little while. He didn’t get it.
Dinner seemed to go on forever with numerous toasts and various entertainments—musicians, acrobats, a sorcerer producing enchantments to impress their guests. He lost count of the number of courses as ever-more-lavish dishes produced by the palace’s cooks were placed before them. Perhaps he should have taken a larger role in designing and approving the menu, but the palace employed people to plan menus f
or large court dinners, and they were far more experienced than he. Everything was delicious, of course, but there was so much of it, more than he had ever seen at a court function. By the time the extravagantly decorated cake appeared, he didn’t think he could eat another bite.
After dinner, the entire party moved to the largest ballroom, which was decorated with greenery and hothouse flowers. He and Amory led the first dance under the glow of hundreds of candles and the eyes of the hushed guests. One was far more romantic than the other, but Philip made the best of it, enjoying the closeness. Especially when Amory relaxed into the dance and Philip’s arms despite the people watching.
Afterward, they retired to the dais, where a second throne replaced the chair Amory usually occupied next to Philip’s. Amory gave Philip a rueful smile, but he sat without comment. Philip took Amory’s hand and tangled their fingers together, as they sat back to watch the dancers and to accept the well-wishes of yet more guests. He refused to let go of Amory’s hand. The hand clasp was the most contact they would have until the ball was over, unless he could convince Amory to dance with him again, and he was going to make the most of it.
Amory didn’t object. He curled his fingers into Philip’s, brushing the back of Philip’s hand with his thumb. Philip tried to hold back a shiver at the sensation, but Amory knew. Philip could tell from the little knowing smirk on Amory’s face.
They did dance again, more than once, to Philip’s surprise. Amory wasn’t always comfortable dancing with him in front of so many people. He wondered if Amory felt more assured of his place at Philip’s side and in Philip’s life because of their wedding. He hoped so, though his position hadn’t ever been in doubt, not to Philip.
For once, tradition worked for them, dictating that a newly wedded couple not be separated at their own wedding festivities, requiring them to stay within reach of each other at all times, to dance only with each other. Philip was quite satisfied with that. He was also quite satisfied to realize he would never have to dance with another young lady who was determined to marry him and become a princess. He’d found a man who loved him for him, not his title.
The Prince's Consort (Chronicles of Tournai Book 1) Page 23
