My hair was up in soft curls threaded with a slender pale-pink satin ribbon.
And I wore my marital chain hoops.
The wide skirt of the gown with that embroidery looked lovely arranged in a fall around my cushions and swathing the floor of the thronal podium.
But I knew, very early in the ceremony, that there would be no flower petal throwing or coin tossing with this lot.
The Firenz men who moved into that room to make their presentations to the king did not like me.
And I was not certain they liked the other things they saw either.
Even with Queen Ha-Lah, Farah, Elena, Serena, Sofia, Queen Mercy, my mother and father, Jell, Liam, Seph and Queen Elpis sitting in chairs at the side, a few members of personal guards milling about, the throne room was so large, it was not near full.
But the thronal podium was crowded.
Aramus sat on a grand chair to Mars’s right.
Wilmer sat to Aramus’s right with True standing to the back, right of his father’s chair.
Ophelia sat in a chair to Mars’s left.
But Cassius sat to Ophelia’s left with Gallienus, looking mutinous, in a chair that was set to Cassius’s left, but it was set five inches back.
Those five inches were important.
And the men who filed into the room did not miss it.
I just couldn’t work out how they were reacting to it.
Lorenz, Mars’s captain, stood in front of us but a bit off to the side, and he heralded every new man who entered, saying his name and his clan.
He would then order, “In celebration of their marriage, make your presentation to your king and your future queen, Silence, Countess of the Arbor.”
I noted that he mentioned my title, but he did not mention I was Dellish.
However, I knew this was not missed and not simply because it was already known.
Each man then laid a small chest or a pouch on the steps in front of Mars. After it was lain, with no ado, they bowed at the waist deeply, then walked out without a word spoken.
The men were known as barons and they were the heads of the various clans throughout Firenze.
There were seventeen of them.
I saw only two of them were elderly, most of them I approximated at around my father’s age, and just three of them were Mars’s age (which I had learned, that very day, was thirty-two).
Elpis warned me they did not all get along (a’tall).
Or support Mars as sovereign.
They were followed by the heads of the nomadic tribes which roamed Firenze. They were referred to as chieftains. All of these men were either my father’s age or older.
There were six of them.
They reportedly didn’t get along either.
Or all support Mars.
For the barons, the presentations were anything from small chests of gold coins, diminutive chests of Firenz emeralds, amethysts, or topaz, or a pouch of Firenz rubies.
Altogether, or even separately, it was an extraordinary offering.
When the chieftains of the tribes came through, the presentations changed.
Chests of silver coins. Ceremonial daggers. And one tossed down two large hides of dense but short-haired fur from some animal I wished I’d seen before its hide was taken (and wished the hide wasn’t taken—I had to admit, I could enjoy a thick fur on a cold Dellish night, but it still gave me a sorry feeling, so I tended to seek a blanket instead).
I did see some vague surprise, and even slight approval, that I wore my marital hoops.
But there was nothing but censure for my lovely gown.
As lovely as it was, it had been a mistake.
The Firenz knew of Dellish fashion and our bent to cover bodies.
The red gown I’d worn for the parade had been a success for it indicated my desire to adapt to my new country, to be a Firenz queen to my new king.
This one said the opposite.
It was odd, how something so inconsequential, for a woman especially, said so much.
His people probably wouldn’t care in the slightest what Mars wore. Or True, Aramus, Cassius.
But me, somehow, I spoke volumes putting on a gown of which they disapproved.
This upset me.
Though it was also a lesson I learned well.
And I was glad I’d decided on a different wedding gown.
Perhaps I’d win a few of them the next evening.
Regardless of my misgivings, Mars had taught me a different lesson on our first meeting, and Elpis had reiterated it when she explained what would happen at this ceremony.
And my small part in it.
“You will be queen, Silence,” she’d said, holding my hand and looking into my eyes. “Of Firenze. The throne is only as powerful as the man who sits it, his strength, his courage, his intelligence. And that includes the woman he chooses to sit by his side.”
She squeezed my hand, got closer and finished.
“You meet eyes, every eye, Silence. These will be your people, but they will also be your subjects. You do not bow to them in any way. They bow to you. And that is all.”
I’d nodded.
But in the moment, I found it difficult to meet the dark eyes and dark stares of the tall, formidable men standing before me.
Though I did it.
After the presentations were done, Mars took my hand as he had Farah’s those days before when I’d first laid eyes on him, and he pulled me from the cushions.
He then tucked my hand to the side of his chest. I lifted my skirts with my free hand.
And we stepped down the three steps that led to the podium.
And as Ha-Lah met Aramus behind us, Farah met True, Elena met Cassius, and with Elpis at the lead after them, the others filed out in order of importance after the betrothed (Queen Ophelia, King Wilmer and Aunt Mercy, King Gallienus, Sofia, Serena, my mother and father, etc.) we headed into the hall for the short trek to the formal dining room.
“That wasn’t so bad, no?” Mars murmured, clearly reading my mood.
“I wore the wrong gown,” I murmured in return, very much not looking forward to sitting at the head of the room with all the other intendeds, being the center of attention.
Though it was more.
I felt something curious forming in the pit of my belly and I sensed it didn’t have anything to do with what had happened during the presentations or what would happen next.
“Your gown is lovely,” he replied.
He’d said my other gown was “becoming,” and although one could argue the semantics of each word, one could not argue the tone in which he’d said them.
Yes, I was glad I designed a new wedding gown.
“You did well in there,” he said, putting some pressure on my hand at his chest in a way that made me walk closer to him. “I am, as ever, proud of you, little monkey.”
That made me feel better.
Under the eyes of many, we walked into the dining room. The barons and chieftains had been met by their wives, older children (as in my age) and lieutenants. There were other important personages about as well, and this meant the room was ten times as full as it had been the night of the betrothal dinner.
And I felt all eyes on me.
Mars guided me up the step where our long table was, and I was relieved to see the couples’ seats this time were not separated. I would be sitting right next to Aramus, which meant closer to Ha-Lah, and this heartened me.
My wineglass was filled almost the second Mars finished pushing in my chair after I was seated.
I turned my eyes from my glass to the crowd that was also being served wine from servant boys who held trays laden with glasses. They were milling about, looking for their assigned seats, but also not surreptitiously watching me.
It was the first time, in this elegant room with its circular tables inlaid on top with tiny, square mother-of-pearl tiles that had mirrored trays filled with lit, red candles, tall poofs of exquisite red roses bunched close togethe
r in vases, and large silver chargers and gleaming silverware at each place setting, that I realized that Firenze was not the Firenze of Catrame Palace and the cosmopolitan Fire City.
It was the Firenze we’d traveled through to get there.
It was the Firenze of tales told through Triton.
The lines of camels, horses and people of the nomadic tribes trekking over the dunes.
The tent cities mixed with adobe buildings and open store fronts filled with lanterns, bright pots, bushels of grains, baskets of spices, fruits or vegetables, woven rugs, wicker wares (and the like), bustling with people.
It was tall, large, pierced, fierce men who wore leather kilts or short sarongs with thick belts at their waists which carried ornamented daggers. These were worn with fine shirts and mantles at their shoulders that went down to the backs of their knees.
And it was exotic, beautiful, lush women wearing bead and sequin and jewel-encrusted finery and sheers that exposed more than they covered, gold chains or elaborate pins or lavish flowers in their hair, dripping in jewelry and pierced magnificently, with large, dark eyes that spoke more than words could say.
It was a land that clashed with violent conflict amongst themselves.
A land that but decades ago was considered savage.
It was not mine.
It was not of me.
And I was being told, if not through deed, but instead by look, I did not belong there.
Definitely not at the side of their king.
I took a sip of wine on this troubling thought, my mind consumed with what I could do to change theirs.
My wedding gown was fabulous.
But it wouldn’t win the love of an entire country.
Further, I had little time. I would be wed the next day. Mars and I had but a few days together (and I had a feeling that time would be busy, something I didn’t think about or it would be unnerving as well as stimulating, neither of which I could focus on in the now).
This would be only two days before we were away on the long journey to Wodell to see Farah and True wed. Only for us to travel to Airen after that.
And who knew what could happen in the months their king and new queen, one not all supported, the other they didn’t approve of, were away.
My mind was so consumed with these thoughts, when the curious feeling in the pit of my belly changed with no warning to something more extreme, I gasped.
“Silence?” Mars, hearing my gasp, called my name.
I put my wine down, composed my expression, and looked up to him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I just thought of something I need to be sure to remember for the morrow,” I lied.
He studied my face.
I hated lying but I didn’t need to get into a discussion about suddenly feeling like something was burning through my stomach with Mars, who would be concerned, possibly in the extreme, maybe whisking me away to see to me, when I could absolutely not be whisked away in front of his people.
I certainly would not win this lot by being faint and queasy, unable to sit through even a dinner under their notice.
“Should I send a servant to share with your woman what you don’t wish to forget?” Mars offered.
And that was my intended.
I might have a much bigger challenge on my hands for my future than I let the thrill of discovery of a fabulous palace, an exciting city and a handsome man I’d come to care about strongly in a short period of time blind me to the fullness of it.
But at least I had Mars.
So I gave him a smile. “It is such I won’t again forget, Mars.”
“Good,” he murmured, leaned to me, touched his mouth to mine, and I allowed it because I liked the feel, his closeness, the spicy scent he had that night and the tickle of his beard.
I was smiling again, wider this time, when he pulled away.
His eyes twinkled as he took it in, and he turned to his wine.
I reached to mine as well, just when the burning came back.
Stronger this time.
But also, this time, I felt something else.
I turned my head left and saw Farah leaning forward, her gaze on me.
Nearly the instant I saw her, Ha-Lah leaned forward.
She looked to Farah, then to me.
After she caught my eyes, Ha-Lah looked beyond me.
I turned my head that way and Elena was leaned forward, her attention moving between all of us.
My heart squeezed so hard, I felt the blood racing from it all through me.
Because I knew it.
I knew exactly what I was feeling.
We were feeling.
We were Sisters of the Beast.
And the Beast was rising.
35
The Beginning of Everything
Lady Silence Mattson
Second Landing, Grand Stairwell, Catrame Palace, Fire City
FIRENZE
“Your rooms are this way, Silence,” my father called sharply as Mars guided me right after we reached the landing, toward the west corridor, not left, toward my rooms.
I turned to glance over my shoulder at him.
Mars did as well.
“That they are,” Mars replied, even if my father was speaking to me. “Goodnight, Johan,” he finished pointedly.
“Goodnight, Papa. Mama,” I called.
My mother, standing at my father’s side, looked worried.
Father looked infuriated.
Neither bid us goodnight.
Mars turned to face forward and continued calmly to lead me that way.
I was not calm.
Dinner went without incident, and during it, Mars had stood and made a short toast to his barons and tribal leaders. He’d thanked them for their gifts, then promptly proclaimed they would, immediately after our wedding, be transferred to the treasury of Firenze to be used for the further advancement of the country. Or, in the case of ceremonial daggers (and such), they would be displayed at the Royal Museum in Fire City.
This caused a stir.
But Mars ignored it, turned to me, and finished the toast with, “And to my bride. My destiny. My future. May tomorrow come quickly.” He then smiled a wolfish smile that could not be misconstrued he was speaking about the dinner, “But first, we will enjoy tonight.”
I could not fight my blush.
This only made Mars smile bigger.
And that was one of only three times I felt anything remotely like approval from his people.
One was my wedding hoops, of course.
The other was when dinner was done and Piccola was brought to me.
Since I was given her, we found our times to play and I made sure Tril allowed me to feed her, for I wished her to know who her mama was.
I couldn’t say she was as yet used to me.
But in that crowded room, she clung close to my finger or my neck, and I was glad of her presence, not to mention her providing distraction.
And apparently, even if hides were tossed on thronal steps, my maternal instincts to a monkey were looked upon favorably.
She was still with me, clutching the scallops at the side of my neckline while I stroked her tiny back as we walked to Mars’s rooms.
She wouldn’t be with me very much longer, for as we drew closer to his chambers, Mars called out, “Take Piccola from your future queen.”
The lingering servant boy rushed to me as I disengaged my pet from my gown.
Mars stopped us, and I brought her up to my face.
Her face was teeny-tiny.
But her black eyes were so smart.
“Until breakfast, my wee one,” I murmured and brushed her against my cheek.
She made a chirrup in response before I handed her off.
The boy headed the other way and Mars instantly started us moving again.
And thus, I instantly had something new to worry about.
I did not tell him about the feeling in my belly that I knew I shared
with the others.
It came.
It was strong.
But once we all recognized it amongst each other, it was gone.
I’d watched and noted that none of the others shared with their betrotheds either.
Thus, I decided I would call us all together early on the morrow to discuss it before I discussed it in full with Mars, sharing with him as well what the others thought.
Now I had what lay next to consider.
Mars moved us into his chambers, shutting the door behind us, and I immediately noticed that they were much changed.
Low lamps at each corner of the pool were lit, but the chandelier above it and the lanterns on tables were not, as they had been when I was there the night before.
Also, a soft glow came from the sitting room cum study, but it was not beckoning, as it had been before. It was dim and signified retiring, not working, reading or communing.
But Mars had no interest in either room.
I knew this as he guided me straight to his bedchamber.
He moved the sheers aside for us both and led us in, declaring, “You shouldn’t worry.”
There were so many things to worry about, I didn’t know to which he was referring.
“About what?” I queried as he let me go when we were fully in the room.
He put his hands to the black, sleeveless, long-tailed jacket that was over the black silk shirt her wore.
He shrugged it off.
My mouth got dry.
“The clans and the tribes,” he answered. “And what they think of you.”
He then turned and moved toward the archway to his dressing room.
I stood rooted to where he left me.
Unable to move, I was fortunately not unable to speak.
“Why do you say that?”
He’d not disappeared behind the sheers that covered the archway, I could see his shadow moving in the dimly-lit space.
And thus, I watched as he tossed his jacket to the daybed.
“Because they don’t think much of me.”
“Your mama shared they did not all support you.”
The Beginning of Everything Page 37
