Breeon’s fingers were cold and stiff beneath his. He had no comfort to offer her, and no doubt she had known as little as he had. There was nothing either of them could do.
The Priest was reciting the passages from the Bible signifying their commitment to each other. In only minutes, it would be done. Breeon would be his wife.
When would the battle come? Would it be waiting outside of the church doors the moment she was announced as his? Enlin half expected thunder to sound as the Priest continued to drone on.
He was impatient for the order to face his bride and lift the veil. He wanted to see Breeon’s eyes. Would she believe he had held no part in tying her to him in this way?
The dictation to face the soon-to-be Princess, and make his pledge to her finally came. Enlin did not have the courage to breathe. It was so quiet he wondered if those gathered held their breaths with him.
He lifted the shield of lace. He did not understand what he saw in her eyes. Standing still and quiet, the words being spoken near them fading, Enlin tried to read the depths of gold. A drum beat inside of his chest he swore he could hear; a rhythmic beat that echoed like the feet of a thousand soldiers.
His lips moved of their own volition as Enlin spoke the words the Priest directed him to. “I vow to hold you in my heart as my own. To honor the bond God has woven over us on this day as unbreakable. I pledge we are one, united for a purpose greater than we held before, joined together for the good of the Kingdom. As you breathe, I breathe. As long as you shall draw breath, I belong to you, and you belong to me.”
Breeon was slow to speak the first words. Each filled his ears in synchronization with the drum that still beat inside of him. A song swelled, the melody haunting and full of sorrow. Enlin knew no one sang within the church. The music was for him alone. He feared Alayna sang them, somehow projecting the song to him, reminding him of the fall of his Kingdom as Breeon declared that he belonged to her.
The kiss Enlin pressed to her lips to seal their union felt like a defeat rather than a victory.
She was his now. Despite all that would come to pass, fate had reached down and decided their futures for them. Breeon was now the future Queen of his Kingdom. However long it reigned.
Chapter Eighteen
No private words were spoken between them. The Royals, nobles and peasants gathered congratulated them and offered well wishes as they were led from the church. A celebratory feast waited at the castle.
Attendants rode with them in the carriage, making it impossible for them to speak as they fussed over the fall of his cape and the folds of the deep blue gown glittering with jewels Breeon wore. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful. Silver strands had been woven into the hair that fell over her shoulders and around her in soft waves.
No thunder had interrupted the silence of the day. No darkness had pushed away the brilliant sun that shone. There was laughter and faces wreathed in smiles on those that raced alongside of the carriage.
Enlin held Breeon’s gaze and thought of Prince Gevin. What had been his first thoughts as he had looked into the eyes of his new Princess? He strongly doubted it had been fear and dismay.
Consciously relaxing his face so none would question his commitment to his bride, he placed Breeon’s hand on top of his as they stepped free of the carriage. A long golden tapestry had been placed over the stone leading into the castle. It was lined with peasants. The nobles and Royals stood alongside it closest to the door. The King and his sisters waited in the wide open doorway for them.
Breeon was gracious to those that reached out to touch her and congratulate them. She murmured thank you’s and took hand after hand as they followed the line of the carpet.
The King waited with his customary dignified stillness.
Kahlee gave Breeon only a cursory glance before smiling at Enlin. “Congratulations, brother. May you and your future Queen long reign.” It was a shallow recital with no real sincerity behind it. Kahlee would be far more interested in the attention of the unbetrothed Prince Alpin from Vilitia than she was in her new sister.
Nyala stood at the back where the least amount of people were gathered. Close enough that those beyond the door could see her and know she honored her brother. The look in her eyes told him she saw his unrest despite his attempts to hide it, but she turned her gaze to Breeon and smiled, holding out a small bouquet of winter foliage.
“I am happy you hold my brother’s heart.”
Breeon accepted the arrangement. “These are lovely, Nyala. Thank you.”
Enlin wanted to tell his sister how stunning she looked in the green dress she wore, but was given no chance.
They were led into the Grand Hall. Banquet tables were already laden with food and servants scurried to add more. They were ushered forward as the Herald rang a bell, signaling for silence.
The hall had filled by the time they reached the three thrones gracing the head of the room. Enlin’s head was pounding. He looked out over the gathering, searching for anyone that stood out as a threat.
“Your Royal Majesty, the King!” the Herald called out.
The crowd cheered as his father took his throne.
“Your Royal Highness, the Prince!”
Resigned, unable to determine if any of the faces posed a threat, Enlin took his seat.
“Your Royal Highness, the Princess!”
The cheers were deafening as Breeon hesitantly slid into the throne beside his. Enlin could not recall ever seeing the delicately carved golden throne before and wondered if it had been made specifically for Breeon. It suited her, he thought as he watched her settle a hand on the smooth arm of the chair.
She was nervous. Or unsettled. He couldn’t tell which. Watching her, he placed his hand over hers and gently curled his fingers over her soft ones. She turned her head to look at him. He was unable to see if his touch brought her any comfort at all.
For hours, they endured the entertainment meant to celebrate their union. They ate, they danced, and they accepted the never ending congratulations.
Who had put such thought and detail into the revelry to such a degree and made it happen in such a short amount of time? Even as Enlin studied the familiar faces that milled near them, he knew. Telphee had done this.
The look on the man’s face was enough to convince him. A satisfied sheen gleamed and his mouth quirked in a proud acceptance of his achievement every time their eyes met.
Enlin was glad of the sword at his side, and the presence of the Royal Guard. Rylan, too, stood by and watched with the fierce steadiness that always took him over whenever he was intensely focused.
The King himself became more strained as the night wore on and the festivities continued. The goblet of wine at his side remained full as he pretended to sip at the contents. Enlin knew his father well enough to sense the tension. The hand resting on the arm of the throne pressed a little too hard against the smooth ivory. His words were a bit short, his smile not far reaching. He did not dance.
It was with great relief that Enlin was finally able to indicate his new bride should accompany him from the room. The wine had been flowing for long enough their departure went largely unnoticed.
They walked in silence through the halls, servants trailing them at a respectful distance in case they were needed.
His jaw tightened when he saw his bedchamber had been invaded during his absence as well. Candles had been lit, a fire laid, and a tray of fruits, cheese and bread set out. A glance into the suite between his room and the adjoining one suggested it was not vacant any longer.
“Leave us,” Enlin ordered and the servants scurried away with barely concealed snickers.
He didn’t hesitate to check that every door and window was securely latched before moving around the room to blow out every candle, leaving only the light from the fire while Breeon stood by and watched his every move.
Enlin had no doubt she was nervous about his expectations. He indicated the settee in front of the fire and she sat, curling
her fingers around each other and regarding him with an open frankness that surprised him.
It took him a very long minute to determine how to begin. “I was unaware we were being set up, Breeon. I had no idea until I walked into the church we were about to be married.”
She nodded. “I know. I heard Telphee talking, but there was nothing I could do.”
“I am sorry, Breeon. I know you did not want this to happen.”
“It was not supposed to happen,” she corrected.
“You say that as though you expected a different outcome?”
“I was very sure our Creator would not allow it.”
“Our Creator?”
She touched a hand to her heart. “The One who guides all life. Do you not believe there is One greater than everything”
Did he tell her he had pondered that very question many times recently? He wanted to understand what she spoke of. “I do not know,” he answered honestly.
“Even in the moments I question everything, I hear Him. It is like a calming song that breathes softly if you listen hard enough.”
The song he had recently heard had not calmed him at all. It had struck a chord deep inside that told him the end was near.
“What happens now, Prince Enlin?”
It was a good question, and one he was not sure how to answer. He had devoted plenty of time to thinking about everything but what would happen if he married her.
“I know the marriage cannot be undone. If the predictions we believe are to occur, all we can do is be as prepared as possible.” Enlin ran his hand over the smooth hilt of his sword. “Have you ever held a weapon, Breeon?”
“I do not believe so.”
Enlin crossed the room to his desk and opened a drawer. Many things had found a home within it over the years, and from among the contents he removed a dagger with a single sapphire set in the center of the cross guard.
He had come across the dagger long ago on one of his adventures with Weston and stored it away for safe keeping before forgetting about it. “Rylan can teach you,” he said as he handed it to her. “He can get you a garter to conceal it beneath your skirts. Do not go anywhere without it. If we are to find ourselves at war, we need to be mindful at all times. It may well have been easier to keep you safe away from the Kingdom.”
Breeon cradled the dagger in her hands, curiosity on her face.
“It is better to not be afraid of it,” he suggested.
“I do not think I am,” she responded, wrapping her hand around the smooth metal handle and turning her wrist so the blade was aimed for a thrust.
“Are you remembering something?”
“I’m not sure.” She rolled her wrist, circling the blade in the air. With a sigh, Breeon set the blade down onto the table beside the settee. “It has been a very long day and I am tired.” Her eyes shifted to him, then to the bed before stopping to rest on the fire.
“You needn’t fear me, Breeon. You may retire to your own room.”
Breeon’s lashes lifted slowly as her eyes shifted to his. She studied him for a long time and then stood. “I feel there is much more to say, but I am struggling to make sense of all that is in my head tonight.”
“Can you manage on your own? It is best not to call for your Ladies tonight as to allow the illusion that everything is...”
“Normal?” Breeon supplied with a small smile.
“Yes.”
She nodded and stood, moving toward the door to the sitting area set between their suites.
“Lady Breeon.”
She turned back and Enlin held up the dagger she had left behind. “Sleep with it beside you, please. And do not shut the adjoining doors so I can hear you if you call.”
The layers of her skirts moved prettily around her as she walked back. He was sure the dress had been made quickly, but it complemented her well. He wanted to tell her, but couldn’t seem to find the right words.
Enlin had forgotten about the dagger in his hand. There was only her.
“Who can guess at the plans of God?” she whispered as she looked up at him.
“God? The Creator you spoke of?” Her eyes glittered in the firelight. He was as mesmerized by them as he was by her words.
“Do you not believe His Hand is upon us? There must be a purpose to how we have come to this place, despite all odds, and have found ourselves united?”
“You speak in riddles.”
“I do not mean to, Prince Enlin. My heart and mind speak and I have only to seek beyond myself to feel a complexity at work that astounds me.”
“More riddles, my Princess,” Enlin said quietly and took the hand at her side. He lifted it and put the handle of the dagger into her palm.
“The morning will be better for such words,” he said, letting go of the softness of her hand reluctantly. It was very difficult to watch her walk away.
Chapter Nineteen
A hand upon his shoulder woke him. Rylan peered down at him when Enlin opened bleary eyes to faint morning light. “What?”
“Fetch your bride. The Grandmaster waits, disturbed and shaken.”
Throwing aside the covers, Enlin hurried through his morning ministrations and dressed.
He was hesitant to enter Breeon’s chambers, but knew it was better for Rylan to have awakened him before the servants came and discovered the Princess had not shared her new husband’s bed.
He was surprised to find her already dressed and curled up on the window seat that faced the west. “Did you sleep?” he asked.
Her eyes were wide and bright, faint shadows beneath them. “Enlin... I am afraid of what comes.”
Enlin went to her side quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder to peer past her beyond the window pane. “What is it you see?”
She wrapped cold fingers around his and pressed his hand over her heart. “I see it here. I cannot explain it... like tiny pieces of me are being torn from my soul. It is painful.”
Enlin took her face in his hands. He could see faint signs of her discomfort in the gold of her eyes. “You are in pain now?”
“What does it mean?” she pleaded, the distress in her voice causing a surge of fierce protectiveness to rise, like one of the roaring lions that graced the castle.
“I will make it stop,” he promised her fervently, and straightened. “Rylan!”
Rylan appeared quickly. Enlin assumed he had stood on the other side of the doorway to give them some privacy.
“War is coming.”
Striding to stand beside his Prince, Rylan examined the lands beyond the glass. “I see nothing.”
“She does not see it there.”
There was no disbelief on Rylan’s face as he turned his eyes to the Princess. “The Knights have already been called. Some are here already. Come, Prince, the Council waits,” he stated and spun to leave.
“Come, Princess,” Enlin said softly and Breeon slid her hand into his and rose, squeezing tightly. He looked down at her for a few moments, remembering her words of God. If there was one, he hoped she was being watched over. He did not know how to take away pain that came from the inside. “I must find a way to get you to safety, and my sisters as well.”
“I can fight.” Her words were tremulous, but there was courage in them.
“I’d rather you stay alive,” Enlin replied.
“Your confidence in my abilities has merit as you have never seen me fight, but somehow I have determined I can.” She released his hand and he watched as she went to the chaise lounge set at the end of her bed. The dagger was there and Breeon picked it up, spinning the handle in her palm.
The jewel glinted as she walked back. “There is a time for war,” she murmured as she fell back into step beside him. She said it with conviction and a slight lift to her chin. He wondered if memories were surfacing. Her brow was drawn, her eyes intent on the weapon.
“I can fight,” she whispered. Her eyes lifted to his, intensity firing the gold flecks in her eyes. “I will fight. Am I not your wife n
ow? Does that not mean I must protect the Kingdom the same way you would protect it?” She shifted her shoulders back, her chin lifting another fraction. “These are now my people as well.”
Breeon was challenging him, but Enlin could not formulate words to convey what he felt as a result of hearing them. His Kingdom had always meant everything to him, and here his new wife was, accepting the same blessing and burden as though it had always been hers as well.
Was it pride if he refused her? Or part of his need to protect her?
He gave a slight nod. She was right. They were now her people. “We must outfit you properly then. And you must prove to me you do know how to handle that dagger. First, we meet with the Council.”
“She will not be allowed,” Rylan said over his shoulder as they rounded the last corner to the Council Chambers.
“Breeon is the future Queen of Kingdom Silvera. She will sit at my side where she belongs,” Enlin stated firmly as they entered.
Telphee shot to his feet at the sight of his new bride. Enlin held up his hand. “Not one word,” he snapped. “You placed her in this position, but I far outrank you, and she will stay.”
The King said nothing as Enlin sat beside him and a chair was vacated for Breeon at his side. Rylan positioned himself behind her chair and crossed his arms, daring Telphee to make an attempt.
The King nodded at the GrandMaster. “What is it that calls us here so early this morning?”
“Your Majesty, scouts have returned from the North. An army marches for us.”
So it would come to pass. Enlin had hoped the scouts would all return with news that peace remained. It was not to be so. “And the other scouts?” he inquired.
“Have not yet returned, Your Highness.”
Enlin nodded. The Kingdom was well on its way to being fully armed and ready for battle, as were those around them. The men-at-arms had been summoned from their homes.
His grandfather had been wise with his alliances. Each Kingdom had enough men to defend their walls with even half their men. Their enemy would have no way of knowing they had fortified Silvera based on prophecy.
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