“Oh, oh my dear,” the tiny woman gushed, tears threatening in her eyes. “What a joyous day this is. Do you know…” She came forward, wringing her hands, a smile crinkling her lined face, “I fit your mother for her wedding day. Her ladyship was the last royal wedding we’ve seen and my most beautiful bride ever, until now, naturally. Oh, she would be so happy for this day.”
I sincerely doubted it.
Mary, thank goodness, stepped in. “Perhaps we could get started?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Janine pulled herself together and unclasped her hands, her trained eye sharpening on me. “Beautiful,” she said, giving a curt nod as her gaze travelled up and down my form. “Perfect.”
I sighed and turned to snatch an apple from the fruit bowl, more to remove myself from her scrutiny than from hunger. “Now that you have my measurement, what do you suggest?”
“Oh, I would dearly love to fashion something exquisite and unique, if only I’d been given a smidgeon of notice.” She made a soulful noise of regret. “What do I suggest? Your mother’s wedding gown would fit you like a dream with—”
“No!” I turned back to her. “Not my mother’s gown.” She’d rise from the grave to tear it off me.
Janine’s startled expression gave way to a disappointed moue. She was clearly a woman of high emotion.
An apology rose to my lips. I swallowed it, damned if I’d apologize for anything to do with this wedding.
“As you wish,” Janine said at last. “We have another two gowns to choose from, and some bodices and skirts that I could surely stitch together in an afternoon.” A smile lit her eyes. “The King’s grandmother, Queen Annalise, wore a stunning dress trimmed in ancient Italian lace. We must make use of that.” She gave a shallow curtsey before edging toward the door. “If you’ll come with me, m’lady, we’ll see what else the King’s store has for us.”
Life in the Silver Valley was about survival and self-subsistence. The King’s store was a glimpse into a world that no longer existed. Memories shivered over my skin as I stepped inside the airless room. Janine flicked on the electric lighting and my gaze skimmed the sealed tubes that contained reams of luxurious old world materials immaculately preserved and conservatively allocated.
My mother had brought me here once as a child. I chose a pale pink silk, meant for a very special occasion: a ball to celebrate Nathanial’s sixteenth birthday. I never got to wear the pink silk ball gown. A few days after the final fitting, the King incarcerated my mother in the tower and my world spun out of control.
The past cannot be undone. My father’s words haunted me as I followed Janine and Mary deeper into the room. The future is for the living. Wise teachings, but I knew even my father would agree that excluded climbing into bed—both figuratively and literally—with his murderer.
My steps slowed. “What will the King be wearing?”
Janine had already disappeared into the depths of the room, but Mary paused and turned to me. “His ceremonial uniform, I imagine.”
It took a moment for me to recall the military-styled uniform, a distant memory of the old King standing tall and regal before his wife’s coffin. Nathanial held my hand so tight that day, I’d thought he’d crush every bone in my fingers. My heart had ached with his pain. And two years later, I’d buried my mother beneath the shade of a great ash tree outside the castle walls and Nathanial hadn’t been there to hold my hand. He hadn’t been there at all.
Spine stiff, I wandered down an aisle, not realising what I searched for until the swatch of forest green velvet caught my eye. I unlatched the glass cover of the sample box and reached inside, my fingers stroking the luxurious texture. The quality was incomparable to the velvets our textile mill produced, far too grand for what I had in mind.
Janine emerged from the shadows with an armful of white satin and lace. She took one look at the velvet I was fondling and asked nervously, “What are you thinking, my lady?”
“This would make a lovely cloak,” I murmured.
A frown deepened the wrinkles on her forehead. “You want me to make you a wedding cloak?”
“Four cloaks,” I said decisively. “And I’m going to need a new pair of boots.”
- 10 -
Four hours later, I was dressed and ready…well, as ready as I’d ever be for this wedding. I stood before the full length cheval mirror, studying my reflection while Mary thread white blossoms through my braid. My hair was a dark, dark brown, thick and long, and I usually wore it knotted at my nape. Mary had had delusions of some fancy up-style that involved a pair of curling tongs. We’d compromised on this braid, wound around my head like a crown and falling loosely over my left shoulder. The blossoms were a nice, feminine touch and I didn’t mind. Lord knew I had enough rough edges that could do with some softening.
“One more thing,” Mary said when I declared us done. She brought over a flat, midnight black box. “The King sent this up earlier.”
My fingers stroked the crushed velvet as I took my time unlatching the delicate gold clasp. So luxurious, and that was just the container. Inside, a sapphire necklace and earrings set nestled on a satin bed, the stones a shade lighter than the blue of my eyes.
“Something old, borrowed and blue.” I lifted the necklace out. “I never knew Nathanial was such a traditionalist.”
“Old and blue, but not borrowed,” Mary said with a smile. “It’s a wedding gift from the King.”
I swung the large stone from one end of the delicately crafted chain and thought but didn’t say, as with all Nathanial’s gifts, they come with a string attached. That, however, was not the reason I returned the necklace to its bed of satin. I simply did not have the low neckline to accommodate it.
The earrings were another matter. I unhooked the small Celtic Crosses from my pierced ears and clipped on the dangling sapphires. Tilted my head, admiring the way the stones caught in the fading sunlight that filtered into the room from the balcony doors. I may be a slave bride, but I wouldn’t be a pauper Queen and first impressions were bound to set the tone of my reign.
My gaze shifted, met Mary’s in the mirror. “What do you think of Nathanial?”
“He is the King,” she replied with a little shrug. “It’s not my place to say or think anything else about him.”
“You don’t strike me as a woman who walks around with blinkers on.” I turned to look her in the eye. “Last night I was a rebel living in the mountains and today I’m marrying the King. You’re well aware this is not a love match.”
“What are you asking?”
“I don’t need you to help me dress, but I would very much like a friend.”
Mary thought that through as she returned the velvet jewellery case to the dresser. Then she rested her backside against the countertop and folded her arms, her gaze slowly rising to mine. “I didn’t grow up in the castle, Rose. I’ve never been embroiled in ruling politics. But I’ve never seen or heard anything to doubt the King is as good a man as he can be.”
We looked at each other for a long moment. Did she know Nathanial had ordered the execution of my father? She was astute, and she chose her words carefully. I guessed that meant she knew, and she neither agreed nor disagreed with his doings. She’d distanced herself from an opinion, perhaps because she only had one half of the story. I could not fault her on that.
I smiled at my new friend. “Thank you.”
“There’s something else,” she said, pushing off the dresser top to come closer. “My aunt is Lydia Cerrick.”
The name sounded familiar. “Lydia?”
“She was your mother’s lady’s maid.”
Of course. “I remember her.”
“That’s why the King requested me to be here with you,” Mary said. “On this special day, I believe he wished for you to not feel isolated or disconnected from your past and heritage.”
Mary meant well, I saw it in her kind, open expression. She hoped to ease the rift between two strangers about to wed. But all this new in
formation did was to expose another ruthless layer that formed the man. Nathanial had been planning this victory since my father’s death. He’d meticulously engineered every step that had brought me to this point. Placing Mary in my bedroom was yet another calculated move to control me, even if merely to direct my emotions in his favour.
A faraway church bell resounded, then another, the ringing tones building into a joyous melody that travelled from the town to signal my wedding hour had arrived. Although the ceremony was to be held first in the private chapel attached to the castle, everyone else would be gathering in the town square to await the royal couple.
Mary clasped her hands together in a muted clap. “It’s time.”
I acknowledged with a grimace and made my way out the room. Nathanial’s guards stood aside for me to pass, then followed a discreet step behind.
The stairways from the west and east wings curved gracefully to merge before the final descent. That’s from where my gaze fell on Markus and I paused to draw a steadying breath. He paced a short path on the marble tiles, his strides leashed to constrain the restless, frustrated energy I could feel from here.
Much of it aimed at me, I supposed.
Markus did not understand and he’d never know. I needed him to accept this marriage as the lesser of two evils, and that would never happen if he knew the full extent of Nathanial’s threats.
His gaze swept upward and hitched on my wedding outfit. Black leather pants. Shiny new boots that folded over the knee. White cotton shirt with a high collar. Belt and sheath slanted over my hip—sans the sword, unfortunately. And the forest green cape, flowing in velvet waves to skim the tops of my boots as I continued down the stairs to meet him.
“Does this mean the wedding’s off?” he demanded, careless of the King’s men at my back.
I shook my head, leant in to whisper, “This is for Nathanial’s benefit, a reminder that I am High Chancellor and bring my own power and merit to this marriage. Being his Queen will take a lowly second place and his wife an even lower third.”
Some of the black thunder loosened from his brow, not nearly enough. “This is a mistake.”
“As opposed to?” I challenged. “What do you suggest, Markus? That we fight our way out these walls and hole up in the mountains until Nathanial finds another way to bleed us out?”
“There are other ways to accomplish a truce, if that’s what Nathanial really wants.”
“Marriage was the only offer on the table.” I swallowed the doubts and regret he stirred and firmed my voice. “It was a difficult choice, an impossible choice, but I made it and I do expect you to abide by it. Is that clear?”
“As clear as mud water,” he said curtly. “What are you not telling me, Rose?”
I looked into his troubled eyes and couldn’t lie. I couldn’t tell him the truth, either. If Markus knew the full extent of Nathanial’s threats, he wouldn’t rest until one of them was dead. He would never accept this marriage or the peace it might well be able to restore.
So I evaded. “I haven’t forgotten who Nathanial is, what he has done and what he’s capable of. He has his agenda and it’s not entirely honourable, but I have my own and it is. I’m not going into this blindly, I’m just putting the well-being of our people over my personal demons.”
Markus didn’t look convinced, but he made no further argument. “You have my loyalty and support, always. I’m here to escort you into the chapel.”
The chapel was a small annexe tucked into the south west corner, a long walk that gave my nerves and guilt time to flutter. Forgive me, Father. How could he? I’d failed him so drastically.
The set of wooden arched doors stood open, allowing the bitter-sweet strumming of harp music to flow out. Unbidden tears welled from my heart. My mother had played the harp so beautifully, my father had often joked she’d trapped an angel in the strings. The memory turned to dust with the abrupt reminder of the reason why my father had fled the castle and vowed never to return.
The Glamorgan family had made me an orphan and here I was, not only marrying Nathanial, but I’d promised him an heir.
I stopped walking, dipped my head to look at Markus, into the grim expression that barely masked his disapproval.
He is right.
This is a mistake.
But did I have a choice?
Would Nathanial really order the mass execution of sixty-five men, women and children? Sixty-six if I counted the babe still in Anna’s stomach.
No, of course he wouldn’t. Nathanial had planned this too well, he was too smart and ruthless to wipe out his bargaining chips in one foul wave. He’d execute them methodically, one at a time, perhaps one each day, until he’d eroded me to the bone. And then I’d be right back here at the wedding chapel and every one of those deaths that it had taken to finally bring me to my knees would be for naught.
“What is it?” asked Markus.
“Nothing,” I said, moving along again before he could see otherwise. “Tell me about our people. How is everyone doing?”
“As fine as can be expected,” he said. “We’ve moved into the tent with the women and children.”
“Not for long, I promise.”
“No one’s complaining, Rose.”
I glanced at him. “Resettling them is my first priority.”
“Our,” he amended. “You’re not in this alone.”
“I know.” I sent him a smile. “Come up to the castle first thing in the morning and we’ll get started on it.”
And then we were at the threshold of the chapel and my smile faded. It took another moment for heads to turn. Eyes lifted, including the harpist’s although the music continued. My wedding apparel received only a few startled gasps and some subdued twittering. These people were too well-bred for public displays of outrage and shock. They’d save that for their private gossip circles.
The chapel was small and rectangular with a central row of five short pews, all filled with Glamorgan family and the influential sphere of royal friends. Granted, my extended family was non-existent. There’d been Great Aunt Beth on my mother’s side, but the cough had taken her when I was very young.
Behind the stone altar, in his purple and whites robes, Father Michel was a familiar face from childhood Sunday morning services in the town church. The last ten years hadn’t added any lines to his sober expression or put much grey in his hair.
Off to one side in the chancel area between the pews and the altar, Nathanial watched my arrival. By my design, we were a matching pair in black pants, leather boots and white shirts, except for our cloaks. His was the deep red of aged wine and mine was forest green, the newly staked Queen’s colours.
As his gaze travelled the length of me, his mouth tucked up slowly at one end. The glimpse into the boy I’d once known sent a ping of warmth into my chest. He’d always been quick to find humour rather than take offense. But that boy was long gone and I crushed the warm tingle with a frozen smile.
An usher made room at the end of a pew for Markus, leaving me to walk up the side of the nave alone. Nathanial’s eyes never left me, stone-baked grey, filled with admiration and not a trace of hostility. His lopsided grin settled into an encouraging smile that softened his mouth and hollowed his jaw.
My pulse raced, each step gathering another second of indecision. Nathanial’s once boyish charm had matured into a dark, dangerous beauty and I didn’t trust it one bit.
“You certainly know how to make an impact,” he murmured when I joined him.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I murmured back. “I’ve never been partial to white satin and lace.”
He chuckled beneath his breath. “You’re not sorry in the least and you didn’t disappoint.”
Father Michel cleared his throat. “May we begin?”
“Please do,” Nathanial said and Father Michel launched into the customary introduction and short sermon tailored for the particular couple.
I didn’t pay much attention until he read a bible verse from
Genesis, the notorious part where Eve tempts Adam astray with that juicy bite from an apple. I wasn’t really religious and had never given much thought to whether the human race had evolved from apes or Adam and Eve, but the implication was clear. Father Michel was no friend of this marriage or me.
Nathanial must have sensed me stiffening. “You okay?” he whispered.
“Who am I supposed to be?” I muttered in a low voice. “Eve, who corrupts you and gets us kicked out of paradise? Or the evil snake, hissing snide temptations into innocent ears?”
He swallowed a laugh, but the noise still earned us a stern look from Father Michel. We kept silent and listened, until Father Michel closed the bible and came around the altar.
Nathanial used the distraction to tip his head closer and whispered, “Perhaps you’re the beautiful, courageous woman who will lead us out from the blind stupor of past vengeances and open our eyes to a peaceful future.”
I rolled my eyes, said nothing more until Father Michel had blessed the rings and I was required to speak my part.
Do you, Nathanial David Glamorgan… I do.
Do you, Rosemary Welsh… To my credit, I hesitated only a couple of breaths. I do.
We exchanged rings and I was bound to my enemy with a complicated twist of Celtic knots in white gold. The ring was delicate, unusual, stunning, and I hated it for everything it symbolized.
Nathanial nudged my chin up for the obligatory kiss. A fleeting touch of his mouth to mine, there and gone—and yet not quite, as if his kiss had left a warm imprint on my lips and the inner bends in my elbows. That strange sensation lingered as we made our way from the chapel.
“This way,” Nathanial said, hooking his arm in mine to steer me left instead of right toward the main foyer.
I slipped my arm free and moved to walk a couple of feet apart. “What now?”
“Just some legalities to formalize the marriage,” he said, stopping before a door, his hand reaching for the knob, “before we proceed into town to join the festivities.”
Panic thickened in my throat. Dead Lord, did he mean to consummate the marriage here and now in whatever chamber we’d stumbled across?
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