Where Light Meets Shadow

by Shawna Reppert

  They used an older form of the marriage ritual, probably to emphasize the politically binding nature of the union.

  “As a monarch of my people, I claim my right to choose a proxy to enter this union in my stead, reserving only that the heirs of my body, should there be any, be heirs to the union.”

  A murmur of surprise moved through the crowd. Precedent existed for such a thing, but it was ancient and rarely used. Little as Kieran wanted to see his lover wed to his best friend, less did he want to see her fob him off on someone else for convenience. Would the Leas even agree to this? If they didn’t, it could very well start the war that he had laid down his life to prevent.

  “Agreed,” Toryn said evenly.

  Relief that they had been snatched from the brink of war mingled with outrage on behalf of Alban. Did Toryn truly not care who his son wed, so long as the marriage cemented the alliance he had broken so long ago?

  “Now, guards, if you please.” Brona seemed to point at him straight through the privacy panel.

  The guards on either side of him started, looking at each other in confusion.

  “I said now,” Brona repeated, impatience tingeing her voice. “Bring him forth.”

  “She can’t mean—” Cuin started to say.

  But Dermot was already opening the door. “That’s the signal. Her majesty must be obeyed.”

  All eyes were on him, and, without the guards’ hands on his arms, he doubted he’d be able to keep walking forward. This had to be some cruel joke, or a dream. Had he been locked in the dark so long as to have reached the stage of delusions?

  At Brona’s nod, the guards stopped when they reached Alban’s side, and then stepped back. Instantly Alban reached out, took his hand, and formed the mind-link.

  Alban’s emotions flooded him, nearly bringing him to tears. How could he have ever imagined himself abandoned, forgotten?

  Love, oh, love. What have they done to you?

  Did he really look that bad? I’m fine. But what? How?

  No time now. We’ll explain it all later. I just need to know one thing—do you want this?

  Did he? He’d never thought about it, having learned young not to dream of the things he couldn’t have. Did he want this? To be bound forever to Alban, surrendering to the frightening intensity of the love between them?

  Yes. Yes.

  “My queen, you cannot do this,” Riagan said. “Have you forgotten that this traitor killed your mother?”

  “I have not forgotten, can never forget,” Brona said. “But I can put that aside, as the Leas have put aside how my mother’s attempt on their prince’s life made the bard’s actions necessary.”

  A gasp went up from the assembly. Apparently not everyone had yet heard. So Brona had received his letter and believed it. Why had she not acted sooner?

  “I also have not forgotten who was my mother’s closest confidant,” Brona continued. “Who held power through the long years of her sleep, and would have continued to be the power behind the throne for as long as he was needed to plan the hostilities against the Leas. Who surely knew of her plans and could have dissuaded her. Who tried to usurp my power by arguing martial necessity after my mother was dead.”

  “You are but a girl, you cannot know—”

  “I am your queen!”

  Brona’s regal anger silenced him. Somehow, Kieran’s childhood friend had grown up while he wasn’t looking. This must have been how her mother would have been, had she been sane.

  “I will deal with you later. This is neither the time nor the place for politics,” Brona said, dismissing Riagan. “This is a day for love and celebration.” Her eyes fell on Kieran and, in their sparkle, he saw the girl he knew. “Kieran, do you agree to be my proxy, to be bound to Alban in life and in love?”

  He still had questions, but he had a feeling that Brona and Alban had already worked out the answers between them. There was only one answer that mattered, and they were waiting to hear it from him.

  “With all my heart.”

  #

  There was still the formality of the wedding feast to be gotten through. Probably a good thing; though he wanted nothing more than to be alone with Alban, he needed sustenance and time to get over his shock before he could do justice to their reunion.

  He was still in a bit of a daze. His world had changed in a heartbeat, and he couldn’t make sense of it. Brona and Alban both answered his questions with a whispered, “Later. In private.” “Later, when we’re alone.”

  Through the mind-link, Alban told him, It’s a long story. And a delicate one. Too much for the mind-link. And then a brush of concern. Are you happy?

  Is this real?

  Beneath the table, Alban squeezed his hand. Yes.

  Then I am happy.

  The feasting was done, and the time came finally for them to rise and leave together for the bedchamber. By tradition, he and Alban would leave before the rest of the guests would depart. Kieran felt a little shy suddenly. It was one thing to slip off with a barmaid for a quick tumble, another entirely to have the entire hall watch him depart, knowing that he left to consummate his marriage.

  He took his leave of Brona first. He bowed to her as was appropriate to her new station, but she shook her head and pulled him in for an embrace. “Be happy,” she whispered in his ear. “Be good to each other.”

  At the exit to the hall, Toryn stopped them. “May I have a word with Kieran?”

  He couldn’t really refuse, though his stomach knotted with trepidation. He was now bound to this family for the rest of his life. Whatever Toryn had to say to him, best get it over with now.

  He walked with Toryn to a quiet corner a little distance away.

  Then Toryn smiled. “I never could have imagined that night when my son brought a stray Scathlan in out of the snow that we would find ourselves here.”

  “And had you known, would you have tossed me back out into the snow to die?” Kieran tried for levity, but his insecurity found its way into his voice.

  “No,” Toryn said softly, gently. “I am well pleased with the way things turned out. Not only for the peace between the two kindreds of elves, but for Alban. If I did not think the two of you well-matched, I would not have agreed to this union. I am proud to welcome you into our family.”

  Kieran felt a lump in his throat. He had never hoped for such acceptance, hadn’t realized how much it would mean to him.

  “Your pardon, my lord. But no one will tell me how all this came about, or even what exactly it all means. Well, except for the obvious.” He flushed as he glanced across the room to where Alban stood talking to his mother.

  “I apologize that we were not able to bring you into the planning, or at least warn you,” Toryn said. “There were some internal Scathlan politics Brona had to balance. She felt this would all only work if sprung as a surprise. The how and the why are too much to go into here. I’ll leave that to my son to explain to you when there is time. He and Brona planned this out mostly on their own, then brought it to me for my blessing. As to the what, I’m sure you have enough history and lore to know what a proxy wedding is.”

  “Yes, but in the past the motivations were—”

  “Quite different, I know. But the form remains the same. Brona will still rule the Scathlan, and is free to love where she will, though her chosen will be her consort, not her husband and king, because of the proxy tie made today. In all other senses, in every sense that matters, your union to my son is a marriage like any other. In the fullness of time, the rule of the Leas will pass to Alban, and you will sit at his right hand. Since there can be no issue from your union, any children Brona produces with her consort will be heir to both thrones.”

  “Will your people accept that?”

  Toryn sighed. “By the Grace, I hope so. Many, many years will have passed before that part of the plan is put to the test. We can hope that by then your generation has succeeded in reuniting the two kindreds so thoroughly that there will be no reason for objec
tion. It would help if Brona’s consort were a Leas, but I’ve learned my lesson about proposing purely political unions. Although she and Sheary seemed to get on quite well.”

  Kieran grinned. Sheary, kind, easy-going Sheary, would make a good match for his friend. And he was the one Leas who might survive the Shadowed Lands, by virtue of ignoring enmity so blithely that it evaporated under the force of his will.

  “If I can do anything to put them in the way of each other, I will. But will your people accept me now? They were less than happy to have me first as your foundling and then your bard. I can’t imagine that they’ll be overjoyed to find me wed to their prince.”

  “It will not be easy,” Toryn admitted. “Trodaire was not alone in his sentiments, as well you know. But you have already won some over by offering up your own life for peace. The rest will come around if you prove yourself honorable and true. The bardic healing you bring to us will help.”

  Kieran’s heart leapt, remembering the joy and wonder of joining his music with Alban’s healing, of feeling the very power of life pass through him, of feeling one with Grace. He remembered, too, the dark mockery he had made of the knowledge he had gained through such joining.

  “You would let me do that again?” he asked Toryn. “Knowing what I have done? What I am capable of doing?”

  “You are by nature more a healer than a killer. You have done nothing more than any might be capable of doing under such circumstances. I hope you never face such a situation again.” He laid a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “Now, go and collect your husband.”

  Kieran went to join Alban, who stood talking with his mother. As he approached, she turned from her son to catch Kieran’s hands.

  “Your father would be so proud of you,” she said.

  A lump formed in his throat, and he couldn’t speak.

  She smiled in understanding. “Welcome to our family. We’ve kept your harp safe. It’s waiting for you.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She squeezed his hands once, then released them and stepped back.

  Alban put a hand to the small of his back. Come, love, come to bed. The wave of desire that accompanied the thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. How had he ever thought of Alban as an innocent?

  Twenty-five

  Alban led him to a chamber in the royal wing. Kieran would have to ask later how this whole proxy thing worked and exactly where he fit in the status of things. For now, he would enjoy the large chamber, warmed by the fire already started in the hearth and lit by an abundance of candles already burning throughout the room. Garlands of flowers decorated the canopied bed, giving their sweet fragrance to the night.

  Alban closed the door behind them and shoved Kieran against it, taking his mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss.

  Then he broke off. “What you did by surrendering yourself was the most incredibly brave, noble, selfless thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. And if you do something that stupid ever again, I swear I will kill you myself.”

  Through the link, Kieran felt the full depth of Alban’s grief and despair, the full weight of his love.

  I’m sorry, Kieran told him. I’m so sorry.

  Alban’s love enveloped him. Don’t be. He kissed him, tenderly, passionately, hands going to the laces of Kieran’s tunic.

  Alban led him to the bed, and there stripped him, laid him bare, catalogued him with hands and mouth, murmuring over weight lost, over the odd fading bruise where the guards had been too rough.

  Kieran tried to reciprocate, wanting Alban’s bare skin against him, but Alban was intent and focused on his own task, and so they ended up making breathless, desperate love with Alban still half-dressed.

  After their hearts and breaths eased, Kieran slept, physically and emotionally exhausted.

  He woke in the soft gray of predawn. Alban lay stretched out on his side next to him, awake also, propped up on his elbow, watching him. Kieran smiled at Alban, and traced a finger down his nose, over his lips, along his neck before laying a hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the beat of it.

  “I can’t believe we’re really here,” Alban whispered.

  “I can’t believe we’re here either. You at least have the advantage of knowing how it happened.”

  Alban kissed him gently. “I’m sorry. You were asking all night. I should have told you the story as soon as we were alone in this room.”

  Kieran chuckled. “I think we both had other priorities at the time.” He strained up to steal a quick kiss, then dropped back to the bed. “But right now I’m tired enough that my curiosity has overtaken my lust. So tell me, how is it that I became a royal bridegroom instead of an executed prisoner?”

  “It was all Brona’s idea. I was wallowing in my grief, prepared to do nothing while you went to your death for saving my life—”

  Kieran put a finger to Alban’s lips, silencing his self-recriminations. “I saw no other option myself at the time, if you recall. Brona’s always been the clever one. So tell me how she engineered this miracle.”

  “She got the letter you sent her via the mortal messenger in that first town we passed through. She saved your father’s sword for you, by the way. I suppose she’ll restore it to you when there’s time. She suspected even before then that there had to be more to the story. She knows you too well to believe that you would have turned on your queen unprovoked. And she suspected also that her mother and Riagan had been planning something, as they spent far too much time before the meeting closeted for it to be otherwise.

  “Although Scathlan custom and law made her queen after her mother’s death, it was in name only. Riagan used the supposed unprovoked murder of the queen to seize all real power. While your people were no more eager than mine for a repeat of the last war, it seemed inevitable, and Riagan convinced them that an untried girl was not the one to lead them through it.

  “When you surrendered, Riagan tried to use that too, making it sound as though the Leas gave you up out of fear of the army he’d brought to their borders. But Brona talked to the guards who had been on duty that night, and found you had given yourself up voluntarily. She guessed, based on what you had told her of your first stay with us, that you had not been ordered to do so and hoped, not in vain, that we were not happy with what you had done.

  “Are all Scathlan as reckless as you and your new queen?”

  Kieran rolled to his side to face Alban. “Why? What did she do?”

  “She had her handmaid cover for her, to give herself a day’s head start. She rode practically without rest, traded twice with mortal farmers for fresh horses. By the time she arrived at our gates, she was so exhausted she could barely stand.”

  “What did she hope to accomplish?” Kieran was stunned.

  “She was offering herself to us as a hostage for your safe return.”

  Kieran drew a sharp breath in surprise. “She gambled on a great many things. That you actually cared about my safe return. That my assessment of your people and their honor was correct. That the Scathlan didn’t decide she had turned traitor.”

  Alban gave a soft chuckle. “Reckless, as I said. Though you have little room to talk. And incredibly brave. Also like you. Again, is this a trait of all your people?”

  Kieran rolled, pushing Alban to his back, and loomed over him. “Are all Leas amazing healers, kind to a fault, and possessed of amazing natural talent in bed?”

  Alban laughed. “I’ll ask you not to do any comparative research on the latter, thank you.”

  Kieran shifted his hips against Alban’s. “My sampling days are done. I’ve found the one I want.”

  Alban sobered. “Are you sure? We gave you little choice in this. What you have said about love—”

  “Was said before I fell deeply, madly in love. Did I seem unsure to you last night?” Kieran bent down and kissed Alban breathless. “Do you need another demonstration?”

  Laughing, doubt gone from his eyes, Alban pushed him off. “Later, or we’ll never get to the e
nd of the tale.”

  Kieran lay back. “Go on, then.”

  He wasn’t fooled. He knew Alban’s doubts would resurface, time and again. He cursed himself for the words he’d spoken so long ago that gave foundation to the doubt, and vowed to prove himself to Alban, again and again, until no doubt could remain.

  “Brona already had some idea about the proxy marriage. Apparently, she knew you and I were lovers.”

  “I didn’t mean to tell her. She figured it out just from hearing me talk about you. Do you mind?”

  Alban laced the fingers of his left hand in Kieran’s and kissed their wedding bands. “Does it look like I’m trying to keep a secret?”

  “So, the proxy marriage.” Kieran said, to bring him back to the story.

  “Was Brona’s idea at first,” Alban said, then added quickly. “Not that I wasn’t wholeheartedly behind it.”

  Kieran chuckled. “Yes. You rather demonstrated your enthusiasm last night.”

  Nice to know he could make his new husband blush.

  “There’s so much to explain, I hardly know where to start,” Alban said. “Can I try something?”

  “I liked everything you tried last night.” Kieran deliberately pitched his voice low and smiled wickedly.

  “Behave, or you won’t find out what happened.” But Alban laughed as he said it, which had been Kieran’s true goal—for now.

  “I want to try something within the mind-link,” Alban said.

  Kieran fought the temptation for further suggestive rejoinders—he really did want to know how his fortunes had changed so drastically.

  Alban stroked a finger over Kieran’s wedding band as though he still couldn’t believe it was there. “If we link deeply enough, and I focus hard enough, I think I can show you my memories. If you want to try.”

  Another way to be close to Alban. Even if he weren’t desperate for the information, he would agree for that reason alone.

  Kieran pulled Alban into an embrace and whispered in his ear, “Let’s try.”

  Alban turned in his arms so that they were comfortably spooned together, and linked them, taking them deeper and deeper...