Gideon turns to the door and marches out of the room.
Ariana spins to face Hadeon, her heart squeezing in her chest. “No,” she says, finding his tender gaze.
Hadeon frames her face with his hands, so much passion, so much pain, she could crumble to the floor. He presses his lips to hers, fierce and hungry. But every warm sensation, his scent, his breath, is saying goodbye and it stings her like a poisoned dart.
He pulls away and looks into her eyes. “I love you, Ariana.” Then he marches toward the door.
“No,” she breathes. “Wait.”
He doesn’t turn back. She runs after him and grabs his hand, but he flicks her away gently.
“Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
She reaches for him again. “I love you, Hadeon. I know no one believes me because I’m supposedly too young to feel this way, but I do. I know I do.”
Hadeon hesitates for just a second, and Ariana’s heart lifts. But he simply nods, brushes her hand away, and walks faster down the hall. Ariana’s breaths are shallow. It’s difficult to draw air past her thick, aching throat. Tears well and dribble lonely paths down her cheeks.
He rounds the corner, the briefest of glances back to her before he’s out of sight.
Chapter 26
“You’re more than welcome to smile,” says Tuti, sliding pins along the hemline of a delicate, pale pink gown made of layers of sheer silk. Her fast fluttering wings fan the room with a sugary vanilla scent.
Ariana peers at the dress in the mirror. Each layer is like the flimsy petal of a spring blossom. Though it’s not quite finished yet, the dress looks breathtaking as it molds to her curves and skims down her thighs all the way to her toes.
“It’s exquisite, Tuti, but…” Ariana frowns.
Tuti arches a finely sculpted, snow-white brow. “But?”
Ariana has given up trying to hide her feelings for Hadeon from Tuti. According to her spell book, Tuti has flawless emotional insight. There’s simply no way of getting around that. And besides, she has never given Ariana a reason to distrust her. “But I can’t help feeling as though this wedding dress is a representation of what I’ll be losing.”
Tuti, half the size of Ariana, stands beside her, looking at her reflection. She strokes a strand of long, black hair behind Ariana’s ear. “Oh, darling Princess. My heart heaves for you, truly it does. But you will be married one week from today, and nothing can stop that.”
Ariana sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I know. I just wish it was Hadeon I was marrying. I can’t even consider another man loving me, nor can I begin to conceive that I could love someone other than him.”
Tuti flutters to the other side of Ariana and tugs tight at the waist of the dress. “Your body may have different plans.”
Ariana’s body has been swelling—hips and breasts—her tattoos brightening, thickening, and writhing uncontrollably. The yearning in her body is unending and all consuming. Passion burns deep inside. She is craving a soul mate. She understands now that this is the nature of things in Fiore, and try as she might, she can’t stop it.
Ariana nods, solemnly frowning. “Yes, but the heart still wants what the heart wants, despite what the body is doing.”
Tuti smiles, a shimmer of glitter spilling into the air. “Yes, it does. You’re certainly your mother’s daughter.”
Ariana stills. “You knew my mother? But you look as young as me.”
Tuti nods. “I fixed her wedding dress, just like I’m doing for you.”
Tingles dart across Ariana’s chest. “What was she like?”
Tuti smiles. “Beautiful of spirit and of body. Compassionate. Just like you.” Tuti laughs with a memory. “Head over heels in love.”
Tears gloss Ariana’s eyes as she grins. “I wish I knew her.”
“But you did. You were only a small child, but I felt your adoration and love for her and hers for you.”
“You knew me too?”
Tuti nods. “And it’s lovely to have you home at last.” She rests a hand on Ariana’s shoulder and trails her fingers all the way down to her fingers. “After your wedding, your heart will not have time to want anything. Your powers will continue to grow stronger and stronger, peaking on your wedding day. After that, your training will intensify and the plans to counter the Sun Queen will begin to be implemented. There’ll be no rest for the good, Princess.”
The power Tuti speaks of burns through Ariana’s body, reminding her of its flourishing presence. Ariana nods and manages a smile. This does ease her mind.
Chapter 27
Ariana soaks in the large stone bath in her room. Tomorrow at noon, she will be married. She has resigned herself to the fact, as well as to the likelihood that she will not see Hadeon before the ceremony. She breathes in and out deeply, attempting to muster a positive attitude. But her chest squeezes so hard each time she thinks about Hadeon her ribs feel like they are cracking.
Every single night since he left, she has dreamed of him and woken to find tears on her pillow and a grief so deep that if she were to delve into its depths, she’d be lost forever in the gloomy darkness.
“Oh, Hadeon,” she whispers, catching a tear on her cheek with her palm.
A knock at the door startles her.
“Hang on a sec,” she yells, voice weak.
She clambers out of the bath, wipes herself down, and dresses in a robe. She runs to the door and opens it.
Hadeon’s father—a giant of a man.
He looks at her robe, his expression severe. “Please, can you dress and meet me in the library as soon as possible?”
Ariana nods. “Of course.”
He turns and walks away.
Ariana closes the door and leans against it. She’s shaking all over. That man terrifies her.
When she finds him again, Gideon is standing in the library looking out the window at the large expanse of land.
He turns when she walks in. “Shut the door please.”
She closes it softly behind her and meets him in the middle of the room.
“Please, take a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the couch.
She nods and sits, her heart beating erratically. “What’s this about? Have you heard from Hadeon? Is he okay?”
He sits beside her, straight-backed, seeming to fill all the space on the couch with his presence. He watches her with his dark, dark eyes. “Hadeon has sent a message for you.”
Her heart sings to know he is thinking of her. “Yes?”
“He apologizes, but he will not be able to attend the ceremony tomorrow.”
“But his campaign is over. The other men have returned. I don’t understand.”
“He’s been waylaid. I’ve received no other explanation.”
Her chest is heavy. She stands, blinking back tears. “Is that all you needed to say?”
For the first time, Gideon’s expression softens. Genuine empathy reaches his dark gaze. “He wishes you all the best.”
Head held high, she nods. “Thank you for letting me know.” She spins to face the door and strides across the room.
“Princess?”
She stops, wipes at her damp cheeks and sniffles before turning to face him. “Yes?”
“I know you love him and…” He breathes in deeply. “I know he loves you. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like this before, not before one’s wedding day. No man in history has ever claimed a woman before her wedding day. I don’t know if it means anything, or it is purely an anomaly, but my son usually has a level head. He doesn’t jump into something he’s unsure of. It confounds me and strokes my curiosity both that he did what he did. Tomorrow may surprise us all.”
Ariana’s eyes widen, and her heart drums. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything. I don’t know the future or the ways of nature, but as you said to me that night—it’s not impossible for a Warrior to be crowned. Thousands of years ago, one of Fiore’s greatest kings was a Warrior, and it was a
t a time of severe unrest. But it’s rare. We, mere foot soldiers, in a matriarchal society, are war fodder. Nothing else. I can share the palace and table during uncertain times like this, but otherwise, I’d be out there,” he says, pointing at the window.
A heavy weight sinks in Ariana’s stomach. She never knew that. And now that she does know how low on the rung Warriors are, she wishes she could unhear it. She thought these societal discriminations and systems of class were an Earth-made concoction, but it seems it has needled its way into Fiore culture too.
“Perhaps, though, and this is only speculation, we may see a different result this generation. Maybe the Warriors will be redeemed,” he continues.
“So why isn’t Hadeon coming back then? If there’s a chance, he needs to be here.”
He nods. “As I said, it’s only a chance and a miniscule one at that. Besides, I don’t trust, and he doesn’t trust, what he’ll do to any man that could be chosen as your husband.”
A chill runs down her back. “You mean he could kill him?”
A silence falls over Gideon and he looks away. “That would be one of the better outcomes.”
Ariana presses her hand to her heart. “I see.”
“So if Hadeon, by some miracle, is chosen tomorrow, whether he is here for the ceremony or not, will not matter. It won’t change the outcome. Sometimes these matters can take days to settle. Not every eligible man will be at the ceremony. In fact, many can’t travel here because of the dangers, so most won’t be attending the ceremony. Not like in the times before the Sun Queen.”
She nods and takes a deep breath that ignites her bones with hope. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the ceremony.”
Chapter 28
The palace grounds are densely dotted with guests. Gone is the field of white grass and in its wake are hundreds of thousands of people, much like a crowd at a rock concert. Though, this audience is nothing like one you’d find on Earth. It is colorful, of all shapes and sizes—a sea of bizarre characters that belong on the shelves of libraries, not in Ariana’s reality.
Today Ariana is a blossomed flower, flourishing with fertility and beauty. She is spring on steroids, ripe and full. And atop her head, she wears the crown that will mark her until her death as the true Queen of Fiore.
Sora and Nyklus stand at her side, radiating happiness as they read the proclamation to the cheerful crowd. The hope rolling off the myriad people is palpable. Today demonstrates, if nothing else, that there exists a chance to claim their lands back from the scorching hands of the Sun Queen. Even inside herself, with all the changes taking place in her body, she can feel that hope too.
Her magic is burning a path through her veins, igniting her cells and blazing in her bones. So strong. Present. Never has she felt quite like this, as though the sun is the center of her universe; all her skin has grown and within her flesh and blood is power, strength, and most importantly, self-belief.
Chin held high, she accepts her new role, her new home, her new family and friends, and is resigned that Hadeon will no longer be a part of her life.
Resigned doesn’t indicate contentment, though. Resigned doesn’t even remotely resemble an emotion lower than that. She still bodily aches for Hadeon and her heart hopes that there may be a chance of them reuniting, but her head understands how remote that chance is.
And she, if circumstances don’t, and most possibly won’t, go her way, has to trust that what people say about her marriage today is true—that she, bodily, spiritually, will fall head over heels for her husband and Hadeon will be but a fractured memory.
“And so the hour has come,” says Nyklus, loud and melodically, “and I call on one young man, amongst all men, from all quarters of Fiore, present or not, to rise up and meet his destiny head-on and stand at the right hand of Queen Harmony, descendant of Spring Blossoms and rightful ruler of Fiore.”
The crowd roars in support. Goodwill floats through and above the thrall like colorful balloons. Ariana breathes heavily, her heart thumping, thumping, thumping. Her body is vibrating, wanting to hear Hadeon’s voice.
She waits and waits, long minutes that pass like hours, the chattering hum of the crowd drowned out by her physical desires.
Through the soft buzzing of voices comes a scramble of feet, gasps, and oohs and aahs. A man with ice blue eyes and black hair is being hauled through the thick throng.
Sonnig, the man who danced with her at the dinner held for Ariana the first week she arrived at the palace.
“He has the markings,” yells one of the men, roughly holding Sonnig’s elbow as he hurriedly marches toward the stage. “He has the markings! Sonnig is King! True King of Fiore!”
Ariana’s eyes widen, hands tremble. A terrible, dissonant anxiety wracks her body, deep to her core. Shouldn’t she feel pleased, excited even, about meeting her husband? Her chest heaves the closer Sonnig is drawn. Every part of her is repelling him and this decision.
“There must be a mistake,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t feel this way.”
Sonnig is hoisted onto the stage. His blue eyes meet Ariana’s and he smiles wide, dimples deeply ingrained. He’s truly beguiling and genuine, but this has no effect on Ariana, none but a deep desperation in her belly to flee this situation. Her heart is bleeding, her veins blistering with objection and desire for the man she truly loves—Hadeon.
Nyklus and Sora take Sonnig by the arms and face the crowd. “Now, you say you have the marking?”
Sonnig nods. “Yes.” He proceeds to open his tunic and pulls it from his shoulders until it hangs limply at his waist and his entire torso is exposed. He turns to the side and lifts his arm into the air. From his armpit to his hip bone is a mass of spring blossoms, bright and fresh, in reds and pinks, interspersed with green snaking vines.
Ariana gasps, the sound smothered by the victory cry from the crowd. The entire landscape is alive with movement and united voice—a deep, bellowing cacophony.
Sora motions for an old man with a long beard, dressed in all white. He shuffles toward Sonnig, pulls out a round looking glass, and holds it near the tattoos. He inspects the picture through the glass, sliding the glass up and down to view the entirety.
The old man raises his ancient eyes and looks from Sora to Nyklus and then to Ariana, smiles deeply, and nods. “It is a symbol true.”
Again the crowd erupts like a thundering volcano, screaming and clapping and cheering. Ariana’s legs grow weak, her head reels, and all the faces and color spin around her like a pinwheel.
Blackness.
Chapter 29
Sonnig’s face hovers over Ariana as she wakes. Her back is against the soft cushioning of a couch in the sitting room. The chatter, a deep mass of sound, from all the guests outside the palace floats through to reach her.
She moans, trying to chase away the dizziness.
Sonnig smiles. “I’m not that much of a disappointment, am I?”
With Sonnig’s help, Ariana sits up, resting her head in her hands until her equanimity is restored.
“Here. Please drink some,” Sonnig says, handing her a small cup of tea.
Ariana shakes her head. “No thank you.” She looks around the room for Tuti and instead finds Sora and Nyklus standing near the grand gold doors. “Can you call Tuti for me please?” she asks Sora.
Sora shares a glance with Nyklus before she strides closer and sits beside Ariana on the couch. She places a hand on her shoulder. “Tuti has been given the day off.”
“Today of all days. Why?”
Sora shakes her head. “At her own request.”
“Why was I not informed?”
Nyklus marches to her side. “Little insignificant details a queen is not to be concerned with.”
Ariana closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Everything seems wrong. Her wedding day shouldn’t feel like this.
“Come on,” says Sora. “You have a ceremonial dinner to attend.”
Ariana sighs. The last t
hing she wants to do is sit smiling in front of thousands of people and eat dinner next to her new husband—Sonnig. Not Hadeon.
Sora’s hand clamps around Ariana’s shoulder and her fingers dig in until it hurts. Ariana snaps her eyes open to peer into her face.
“You have a duty to those people out there. You are their first glimmer of hope in many, many years. Now get up! And pull yourself together. You have a willing king right here who does not deserve this…” Sora glares at her and snarls, “…complacency.”
Ariana’s neck tightens as a fiery blast of anger surges through her. How dare Sora talk to her like this? But then she looks across at Sonnig, at his bashful smiling face, and the anger eases.
She does have a duty to all those people waiting for her outside. She must make peace with the reasons Mother Nature has paired her with Sonnig and trust that She knows what She is doing because the alternative is inconceivable—that all she has been led to believe thus far is a lie and the propagator of that lie is Hadeon.
Ariana nods and pushes to her feet. “Yes. Let the ceremony begin.”
* * * *
Sonnig, if nothing else, is an attentive king. He is kind, charming, and funny, doing his utmost to see that Ariana enjoys his company during the long series of ceremonies that take place throughout the day.
Seated next to him later that night, under a long white canvas tent outside in the palace grounds, at the head of the table that seats hundreds upon hundreds of guests, she is grateful for him.
He takes her hand in his under the table and squeezes. Lust rolls off him and embraces her. Ariana tries not to resist. She wants to feel something for this man who she is intended to spend the rest of her life with—her king.
Her own desire ignites and swirls around him. His eyes soften. She wonders how it will be, after all this time, to touch another man intimately.
Sonnig leans closer and whispers in her ear, “I can’t wait for this to be over so we can be alone.”
The Book of Spells and Such Page 20
