Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  This was in all likelihood, the only Wysterian wedding ceremony that would ever take place inside of an airship. When Privet’s hand took hers, her skin tingled at his touch. His presence was so electric, that despite her misgivings, she found herself growing excited that in a few more minutes, he would be hers, and she would be his.

  “Took you two long enough,” Deutzia sparkled discreetly.

  Privet took Athel’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She squeezed back as best she could.

  Captain Evere stood up, looking surprisingly dapper in his formal wear, and took a moment to address the guests. It was an old navy tradition, regardless of which island the bride and groom came from, in the air, the Captain of the vessel would preside.

  “Welcome everybody to this auspicious occasion…” he began.

  Mina looked impressed, not only that he knew that word, but that he had used it correctly.

  “We thank you all for being here, and we want to take a minute to explain what is expected of everyone so you can feel comfortable during the proceedings.”

  Many of the guests nodded in appreciation.

  It pleased Athel that Evere was working to create the proper mood and tone for the ceremony.

  Evere held up his hands. “Now, Wysterian weddings are a might bit different that the ones you’re used to. No hootin’, no hollerin’, no throwin’ stuff.”

  Evere pointed. “And Dr. Griffin, you’re not allowed to kiss the bride.”

  “Awww.”

  Privet was grateful for that. It would be a shame to mar the ceremony by punching an old man.

  Evere picked up a bottle of rum from the table. “After they’re done we can all get sloshed, but until then just sit down and stow it while they do whatever weird thing it is that they do. And try not to scream when he takes a bite out of the bride’s sister, all right? I know it’s gross, but it’s their way. Just cover your eyes and think about cake or something.”

  Athel placed her face in her hand.

  When Captain Evere sat back down, Mina slugged him in the arm.

  “Ouch! What did I do, woman?”

  Privet and Athel took a deep breath. “It’s been a long road getting here,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But I’m glad we finally made it.”

  Athel’s conflicting emotions boiled up inside of her. “Me too,” she stammered.

  Bunni Bubbles and Molly skipped down the aisle in their dresses, scattering spices and flower petals. The air sang with notes of orange and clove.

  Hand-in hand, the bride and groom approached Deutzia, who began shimmering and shining, her light sparkling across the deck above and illuminating the cargo hold.

  “It will now be the duty of the groom to present his lineage, and the lineage of the bride,” Talliun translated for the benefit of the others.

  Athel’s eyes went wide. There was no way Privet would have had the time to memorize such a long legacy. “Oh, we can just skip that part,” she suggested, not wanting to embarrass Privet in front of everyone.

  Privet looked hurt. “Hey, don’t cheapen this for me. We guys dream about this day from the time we are very young.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  He gave her a peck on the lips to silence her. “I got this.”

  Privet wheeled himself forward and began recounting his adopted lineage. To her surprise, he did so perfectly. Then, he surprised her even further by recounting hers as well.

  The more she listened to him, the more she felt how seriously he was taking this, the more it pleased her.

  By the time he got to Aspen Milicent Forsythia, the third countess of Cliffrose, Athel was blushing beautifully from ear to ear.

  Deutzia shimmered approvingly, and extended one of her branches from above. Privet gave a courtly bow and took it in the ceremonial fashion, preparing to place a light kiss along the leaf presented, but Deutzia broke decorum, and hefted him aloft, chair and all, and gave him a big bear hug against her trunk.

  “Deutzia!” Athel gasped.

  The giant tree rocked from side to side, Privet flopping around like a rag doll hundreds of feet in the air. The entire ship threatened to capsize.

  “Deutzia, put him down right now!”

  The Nallorn tree sparkled in apology and set him back down. Privet’s hair was mussed, and his face was a little green from being shaken like a cocktail.

  “Sorry about that,” Athel said, picking a stray twig out of his hair. He smelled so good, she had to fight the urge to embrace him herself.

  “It’s…all right,” he wobbled.

  She leaned in close. “How did you memorize my genealogy without the archives?”

  “I had help.”

  Athel glanced over at Talliun, who gave her a little wink in return.

  Once they had composed themselves, they stood before Deutzia and waited for her to seal the three of them together.

  Deutzia hefted up a small root out of the dirt. It began to glow with a golden light, filling the room. Two smaller rootlets sprouted off of it, and each of them sprouted two even smaller rootlets, and each of them sprouted off two rootlets that were smaller still.

  Over and over they divided as they extended towards the couple. By the time the rootlets reached them, they were beyond count, thinner than even the finest strand of hair. If they had the sight to see it, even those fine strands divided several more times even after that.

  They washed over the bride and groom like a golden mist. They didn’t just touch their skin, it passed through them, penetrating effortlessly, caressing with sweet delicacy every cell in their bodies.

  The three of them were surrounded by a golden light that surpassed even the noonday sun.

  Many of the guests had to shield their eyes.

  When the light finally receded, Deutzia stood taller, her brown and arid branches now fully lush and green. Her bark dark and healthy. A single piece of fruit had grown atop her tallest branch.

  Privet gasped, overwhelmed by the power of it all. He put his hand up to his chest, struggling for breath.

  Athel felt her scar burn anew. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

  Privet shook his head. “No…I’m--I’m fine.”

  She grabbed his hands in hers. “Please, don’t hide it from me.”

  He looked into her pleading grey eyes and relented.

  “All right,” he said quietly. “It’s very faint. A slight pull inside my chest. If I hadn’t lived without it for so many years, I probably wouldn’t notice it at all. But, yes, I do feel it.”

  Athel turned away, her heart screaming. “I’m hurting you.”

  “Hey.”

  She didn’t want to face him. She tried to step away, but he held her fast.

  With infinite gentleness, he scooped his strong fingers under her chin, and turned her to face him.

  “Don’t think of it that way,” he pleaded.

  He took her hand and pressed it against his heart. She could feel it beating strongly inside his brawny chest.

  “You aren’t talking this from me, Athel. “I’m giving it to you. Okay?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Okay.”

  Deutzia leaned over, bowing her top until the new fruit settled into Privet’s outstretched hand.

  Carefully, he plucked it, a golden shimmer trailing from where the stem separated from the branch.

  “The first fruits of the harvest, which I give to none, save it be my wife,” he said confidently, taking a bite and looking deeply into her eyes as he handed it to her.

  Athel took a deep breath. “Which I accept from none, save it be my husband,” she answered, taking a bite as well.

  “How joyful it is when one becomes two, as a child is born from mother,” Deutzia said happily as they chewed, “and how much more joyful is it when two become one, as husband and wife.”

/>   Privet smiled, happy to understand Deutzia’s voice for the first time.

  Privet leaned in and kissed his wife. His passion overwhelmed her. Like a tidal wave, she felt his feelings bleed over into her. It was like walking out from the shade into the noonday sun. She wrapped her arms around his and kissed him back. The world seemed to fade away. She could see his soul, not with her eyes, but with her heart, she sensed it drawing near. It felt beautiful to her. Strong, loyal, tempered by experience, and polished by tenderness. When it touched her own soul, she shivered at the strength of it. It felt as if his whole essence wrapped around her like a blanket, shielding her, protecting her. It held her tight, yet there was no discomfort. She wanted this, she always had, and she released her sovereignty, allowing him to possess her. Not as a thing to be won, but as a thing to be treasured, a thing to be cherished, a thing to be loved.

  It felt right. It felt beautiful. Athel couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. Their spirits swirled together and became one. Distantly, the new couple could hear the guests applauding.

  Privet had a little trouble kissing her from a sitting position. He tried to shift in his seat, but one of his legs fell limply out of its harness. Athel tried not to notice his foot lying awkwardly against the deck. She didn’t want to ruin his special day. She tried to set aside her own misgivings. She tried to be happy for him, for them. She wanted this to be a joyous memory for her new husband. But, try as she might, her tears wetted their lips as they kissed.

  He is giving me so much. Everything he has. I swear, I will do everything I can to make him happy. I won’t just take this time, like I did with Alder. I’ll give back twice as much. I’ll be the wife he deserves, even if it’s just for a little while.

  Privet released her from his tender embrace, and she tried to smile as sincerely and deeply as she possibly could. She wanted to be the radiant, joyful bride he deserved. She tried to create a mask that hid her true feelings, like she had been able to do when she was queen. She tried to spare him the pain of seeing the conflict inside her wounded heart, but he saw right through it.

  “It’s okay to cry,” he whispered, running his thumb across her cheek. “I’m here for the sad moments, too.”

  Her lip trembled, and her veneer fell away. She buried her face in his broad chest, and allowed the sadness to pour out. Privet placed a hand on her head and held her tightly.

  The guests were applauding so loudly, they couldn’t hear her weep.

  Captain Evere stood up and grabbed the bottle he had been eyeing, offering a toast to the new young couple. Licking his lips, he took a long, forceful draught of rum before the others could prepare their own drinks.

  Mina shook her head and unpacked her Zithero while her husband chugged. A few others joined in with instruments of their own, and within a few minutes the place began to feel like a real celebration. Stories were told, laughter rose up, music wafted about. Food was shared, hands were shaken.

  Andolf made a few of his spirits visible, and they swam above the ship, a lovely river of ghostly light creating a halo around Deutzia. The tree playfully ran her branches through the stream, the spirits slipping though her leaves like sand through fingers. One by one, the guests came up and congratulated the new couple. Margaret brought Ash up and Athel and Privet took turns holding him while they spoke with their guests. Ash delighted in the music, and made it his goal to grab hold of one of his mother’s auburn locks and give it a good hard yank as many times as he could manage during the night. At one point he caught hold with both hands and made Athel yelp, which delighted Ash so much he clapped his hands and squealed with joy.

  Albashire picked through the buffet, trying to find a roll that wasn’t too terribly misshapen. He placed a dollop of potato salad on his plate, and was pleased to find it well-seasoned. In fact, it smelled so good, he couldn’t wait, and put a full spoonful in his mouth while he was still in line.

  He grabbed the cake server, but found a dirty sleeve protruding out from the side of the cake.

  Befuddled, he looked up and found Odger standing there, both his nasty arms shoved deeply into the heart of the wedding cake.

  “What…are you doing?”

  Odger furrowed his brow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It looks like you’ve shoved your mangy hands into our food.”

  Odger pulled one of his hands out, cake and frosting dripping off. “I have mange?”

  Albashire chewed on the spoon in his mouth. “WHY did you do it? You ruined the cake!”

  “I’m looking for the prize.”

  “The…prize…?”

  “Yeah, she said she hid a prize in the center for me to find.”

  Albashire blinked. “Who?”

  “Queen Hazel.”

  “Athel’s mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, she’s not here. She’s back on Wysteria. In a coma!”

  Odger snorted, sifting through the cake in his filthy hands. “No, she’s not, she’s right over there.”

  The squat man pointed to an empty corner.

  “There’s no one there!”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “No, there’s not! You’re disgusting!”

  Odger looked confused. “But, if she’s not here, then how did she manage to put a prize in the potato salad?

  Odger pulled a ring out of his crusty pocket, dripping with potato salad.

  Albashire turned bright green, spat out his spoon, and ran for the gunwale to heave over the side.

  While he retched, Odger shrugged and licked his fingers. “At least the rolls I made turned out all right.”

  Everyone else in line threw their plates in the trash and decided to make for the bar instead.

  Pops came by mopping and shook his head. “Waste of good eats, if you ask me.”

  Over by the band, Dr. Griffin tugged at the tip of his greying pony tail with one hand, swirling the glowing drink in his wine flute. “Don’t make me invoke my medical authority, he warned slyly. “As ship’s doctor, it is my duty to look out for the health of everyone on the ship.”

  Rachael rested her hand on her shapely hip. “You can’t possibly think I’m stupid enough to let you do my physical exam?”

  Dr. Griffin picked at a liver spot on his bald scalp. “I’m going through the whole crew alphabetically, starting with the Rachaels.”

  “That’s not what alphabetical means.”

  “Are you saying I can’t be professional? That I cannot look at a female body clinically?”

  “I’m not sure you’ve ever seen a real female body.”

  Dr. Griffin’s eyes became distant. “...that I am unable to look at a slender neck, graceful like a swan, a firm backside, like a ripened peach…the swell of a bosom that is…well, beyond generous…”

  She raised a shaped eyebrow. “You want me to hit you, don’t you?”

  He dropped the pretense. “Oh yes, please. Won’t you?”

  She tapped a well-manicured nail against her painted lips. “Well, since you want me to…”

  He threaded his fingers expectantly.

  She grinned wickedly. “…Then I guess I won’t.”

  With a flick of her styled hair, she sauntered away, leaving him stunned.

  She found Ryin over at the bar, stirring his drink while he sat by himself.

  “Ah, just the man I’ve been looking for,” she said, smiling brightly.

  “You are?”

  “You have been,” she corrected, taking a seat next to him.

  “I’m a pirate now, syntax isn’t really something you should expect from me.”

  “You are so funny,” she praised, touching his arm.

  She reached over and plucked the cherry out of his drink, succulently settling it on her tongue and plucking it off the stem.

  “That was
mine,” he protested.

  “It was good,” she said with a wink.

  He looked her over as she licked a drop of juice from the corner of her full lips.

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  She laughed. “What? No, of course not. Don’t be silly.”

  She lifted up his drink and took a sip.

  “But, it wouldn’t be bad if I was, right?” she asked, eyeing him sidelong.

  Ryin looked her over. The dress she was wearing was sleeveless, backless, strapless…in fact, there was so little left, it barely counted as a dress at all.

  Ryin thought for a moment. “Do you have a middle name?”

  She shook her head. “No, why?”

  “Just wondering if maybe your middle name was Melissa or something.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Melissa? Do I look like a Melissa?”

  “Nothing wrong with that name, is there?”

  She shrugged. “Of course not.”

  She took another sip of his drink.

  “…If you are planning to be a librarian.”

  Ryin leaned back. “Hey. It’s a perfectly good name.”

  “Why are you being so defensive? Was your mom named Melissa or something?”

  “No.”

  She set his drink down and motioned to the bartender for another. “Good, ‘cause if you were looking for a girl with your mother’s name, no amount of money would save you.”

  The bartender handed her a fresh one.

  “Put it on his tab,” she said, motioning to Ryin. “He can afford it.”

  Ryin frowned. “I knew it. You knew I still had all the money from the treasury we raided.”

  She giggled. “Of course I knew.”

  Ryin leaned forward dejectedly and began stirring his now empty drink.

  “Hey, don’t get down, Ryin. Being affluent is attractive, nothing wrong with that.”

  “Unless that is all people see.”

  “Hey, give me a little more credit than that. Did I start paying more attention to you when you got your money?”