Prism Cloud

by Jeff Wheeler

“There might be some fighting,” said Elaine mischievously. “That would be exciting, wouldn’t it?”

  “Hush,” warned Lyneah, but she, too, looked intrigued by the drama unfolding.

  When they reached the front hall of the castle, the rest of the royal family was waiting for them. Everyone was dressed for the ceremony in their fanciest and most elegant attire. Kingfountain held a splendid court, and the brightly dressed guards were arranged in orderly rows, wielding flags and swords and arquebuses, wearing either metal helmets or plumed hats. Sera looked at Trevon, who wore a cream-colored tunic and a purple sash, and thought how handsome he was to her. The memory of their lingering kiss by the fountain the night before made her cheeks burn a little. He smiled at her, and she smiled nervously back before shifting her gaze to the rest of the family. The king looked gruff and guarded, the queen distant and aloof. Perhaps those expressions were the best they could do under the circumstances.

  Trevon came forward and held out his arm. She put her hand atop it, and he led her out into the dazzling sunshine. Trevon helped her up into the rig, a polished carriage of purple and gold with wheels nearly as tall as Sera herself, enclosed with a sturdy roof and door. It was heavy enough to support two footmen standing on the back and the driver on the top bench. She sat down on one of the cushioned seats. After the king and queen had also ascended into the carriage, Trevon joined them, and a footman shut the door. The horses began to move forward.

  Sera breathed in deeply through her nose and out her mouth, unable to describe the surreal feelings in her heart. Neither her mother nor father had come—but she hadn’t expected them to suddenly change their minds. With the added danger, they probably would have demanded it be canceled anyway. But their absence still pained her.

  “Do you know why the captain chose this way to the sanctuary?” Sera asked Trevon softly as the carriage jostled on the planks of the drawbridge.

  “I can answer that,” said the king in a surly tone. “Captain Remmer felt the river was the way that most would have expected us to take because it would be the safest and most direct. He chose the unexpected route.” He sniffed and then looked to one side. “The river would have been faster, though.”

  That was the extent of their conversation for some time. Both the king and queen were stiff and uncomfortable. It made for an awkward and uneasy ride down to the bridge, but Trevon held her hand in his and kept giving her reassuring squeezes. She knew what the silent message meant. Soon this would all be over. Once the marriage was done, the tension would ebb.

  There were guardsmen posted ahead with poleaxes crossed to keep the public away. Cheers rose the moment their carriage was seen.

  “Driver, go faster,” the king ordered sharply.

  The order was obeyed. At the faster pace, Sera felt herself bouncing on the seat, the movement and haste further agitating her nerves. Sera found the queen staring hard at her, and she met the woman’s gaze without looking away.

  The queen finally spoke. “You have no compunctions about any aspects of the ceremony?” she asked. “Including the water rite at the beginning?” Why was there so much doubt in her voice?

  “None at all, Your Majesty,” Sera answered. “My understanding is the water rite functions as a test to ensure I’m not a water sprite. As I am not, why should it bother me?”

  “Would it not be a form of sacrilege according to your maston customs?”

  “Dear,” the king said worriedly, putting his hand on his wife’s.

  “If it were, would I be here right now?” Sera asked, meeting the queen’s steely gaze with her own. The older woman eventually looked away, but Sera noticed she had tugged her hand away from her husband’s. She sat there silently fuming.

  “Have we offended in some way, Mother?” Trevon asked, his voice betraying a throb of anger.

  “Not now, Trevon,” said the queen curtly.

  They were approaching the gate that opened to the bridge, and the carriage had not slowed. Sera felt a sense of dread as they passed under the shadow of the gate. A sickly feeling had passed into her stomach. Something was wrong. She couldn’t understand what, but she felt it viscerally. Even so, she knew this was right—that she both wanted and needed to marry Trevon.

  The roar from the crowd would have made any further conversation impossible. Just as the captain had explained to her, the bridge was lined with wedding guests who stood by the guards holding back the crowds. The curtains on the sides of the carriage were open, so she had a good view through the window. She saw Lord Fitzroy among the guests, and he nodded to her as the carriage passed. It was plain to see that he wasn’t comfortable either, but Sera smiled at him. People were waving from windows in the buildings lining the bridge. A few cries could be heard above the general roar of approval and clapping, but nothing distinct. She knew some of the people witnessing the procession hated her, and she felt very vulnerable as they continued down the bridge, moving ever closer to the gates to the island sanctuary. The grounds had been secured and the pathway cleared. Only those permitted to attend the wedding would be allowed inside the sanctuary during the service.

  The carriage slowed as it reached the sanctuary gates, and the commotion grew louder yet, blocking out even the noise of the rushing waterfall. Sera’s ears were ringing. With an expert hand, the driver of the carriage made the sharp turn. Sera felt a strong reassurance as soon as they’d entered the holy grounds, as if she’d finally exhaled her breath after holding it. The path ahead was lined with soldiers at attention. The carriage came to rest at the base of the steps leading up to the sanctuary, and a footman appeared to jostle open the door. Trevon left first and helped Sera down. He then extended a hand to his mother, showing courtesy in spite of her lack thereof, and then finally the king left the carriage.

  The royal company, flanked by guards, marched up the steps to the sanctuary where the deconeus awaited them. He did not look happy to be performing the rites that day. Why was everyone so glum?

  Even so, Sera felt an overwhelming feeling of peace surge inside her the moment they entered the majestic sanctuary.

  And that was when she heard the explosion of a gunshot outside.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  RUNNING RIOT

  The sound startled everyone inside the sanctuary. Eyes darted with panic, murmurs began to echo off the stone walls. The king jerked his head, issuing a silent order to Captain Remmer, who strode out quickly, accompanied by several men with arquebuses.

  A nervous sweat began to well up on Sera’s body. Her stomach had shriveled to the size of a walnut, and she felt tense and uneasy, yet the strange feeling of calm she’d felt upon entering the sanctuary still lingered inside her. Part of her worried that a frenzied mob would rush into the sanctuary to drag her out and hurl her into the river. But another, deeper part of her knew it wouldn’t happen. Her senses were acute to every sound, every shriek from the mob outside, and yet she remained preternaturally calm.

  “Should we abandon the ceremony?” the queen asked worriedly.

  “Wait for Captain Remmer to return,” said the king. Sera saw his jaw muscles clenching. A sheen of sweat glistened on his face.

  It took several minutes, but the captain of the guard strode back into the sanctuary, pausing only to order his men to shut the massive doors, and joined the royal family. The captain was grim-faced.

  “Fitzroy’s been shot,” he said.

  “What?” demanded the king in surprise.

  “Several of my men saw a plume of smoke coming from a roof across the street. They’re battling through the crowds to get to the house and find out who did it.”

  “I thought you had secured the rooftops,” the king said.

  “I did, to the best of my ability,” said Captain Remmer in obvious distress.

  “Is he dead?” Sera asked in growing dread.

  “No, but he’s losing blood quickly. He needs a surgeon.”

  The news had made Sera begin to tremble, but she knew at once what must be d
one. “Adam Creigh. I don’t want anyone else to administer to him.” She looked at the king as she said it. This was why she’d had the intuition to keep Adam from leaving the castle.

  The king nodded and gestured curtly. “We’ll postpone the wedding until he—”

  “No!” Sera and Trevon said in unison, surprising each other.

  Whoever had done this had clearly done it with the intent of forestalling the alliance, but she still felt it was just and right. So did he. She reached out and squeezed Trevon’s hand.

  “Son,” the king said, shaking his head.

  “We proceed,” said Trevon. “Captain, put the prime minister in our carriage and get him back to the palace. Have Doctor Creigh, and only Creigh, attend him unless the doctor asks for help. Get this done. See to it yourself.”

  The captain shook his head. “It is my duty to protect the royal family. I’ll have Fitzroy taken back to the palace, but I will not leave you. I have a vessel waiting for us outside the sanctuary. We will return to the castle up the river.”

  “Son,” the king said imploringly.

  “This is our decision, Father,” Trevon said, holding up Sera’s hand.

  The king glanced once at his wife, the two of them sharing a look of concern and worry. Then the king turned and faced the deconeus.

  “Continue with the ceremony.”

  “But, my lord,” the deconeus said hesitantly.

  “Do it!” the king ordered.

  The deconeus, despite his reservations, acknowledged that he would with a curt nod. He motioned for the sextant to bring the dish of water.

  “Please kneel before me, Your Majesty,” said the deconeus to Sera. His voice was trembling.

  Sera, still surrounded by the family, knelt before him. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she bowed her head until she was eye level with the bowl. Traces of the smoke had drifted in from outside, along with sounds of yelling. Sera itched to look toward the doors, but they had been closed long ago. She wouldn’t have been able to see anything.

  The deconeus came closer. “If you are a water sprite, I abjure thee!” he said in a firm, clear voice. She felt the water strike her hair and run down her neck and chin. He’d not poured very much, but it dribbled on the floor by her knees.

  There was a collective sigh from the people who’d gathered to watch the rite. The sound reminded her of waves receding off a beach.

  “She is not waterborn,” said the deconeus. “We can proceed. Please rise.”

  Two servants quickly approached with towels—one mopped the floor while the other helped dry off Sera’s face and neck. The commotion from outside was increasing. The gunshot had clearly set off a larger demonstration. Another shot was fired, making Sera gasp in fright, but she clenched her jaw. They would finish this.

  “Promptly, Deconeus,” said the king, wiping sweat from his cheek. He cast a nervous look outside. The queen’s face was ashen. Trevon’s siblings equally looked concerned and worried, each one glancing at the now-closed sanctuary doors. They did little to suppress the noise.

  The deconeus nodded, looking nervous. “Prince Trevon Argentine,” he said in a voice more confident than his demeanor, “do you desire Sera Fitzempress as your wedded wife?”

  Trevon, his mouth in a frown, answered forcefully, “Yes.”

  The deconeus coughed. “Sera Fitzempress, do you desire Trevon Argentine as your wedded husband?”

  Sera felt like she needed to cough, but she managed a firm “yes” in response to the question.

  “The rings,” said the deconeus nervously. Trevon, who had both prepared and fitted them, produced them from his jacket pocket. He handed Sera the one for him and took hers himself.

  “If you please,” said the deconeus, gesturing for them to hurry.

  Trevon kissed her ring and put it on her ring finger. She likewise kissed his and put it on his finger, struggling a little to get it past his knuckle. They hadn’t practiced that part earlier. After it was in place, they joined their right hands.

  The deconeus put his hand on top of theirs. “What the Fountain has joined together, let no man—”

  A loud crash sounded outside the sanctuary.

  “Sounds like they’re breaking the gates!” someone gasped in fear.

  The deconeus, blinking and frazzled, repeated, “What the Fountain has joined together, let no man put asunder.” He lifted his hand from theirs and muttered in relief, “It is done. Now hurry, Your Highnesses!”

  Another crashing sound happened at the gates.

  “Bar those doors!” ordered Captain Remmer. “Drag anything heavy in front of them. Hold them until we are gone!”

  “Aye, Captain,” answered one of his men.

  Trevon gripped Sera’s hand, his face flushed with concern but still smiling. “Well, it’s an unusual way to start a marriage. More excitement than I’d hoped for, I’ll admit.”

  “Come on!” barked the king, and the whole royal family began marching to the rear of the sanctuary. As the family left through the rear alcove, they emerged into a garden and hurried across the lawn to the docks behind the building, shouts and screams filling their ears. Sera felt Trevon tug on her hand as they hastened away from the scene of violence. Now that the marriage was done, she fretted about Lord Fitzroy and hoped his carriage had made it back to the castle.

  At the docks, they began to descend the steps, the rushing noise of the river drowning out the worst of the tumult from behind them. Just as the captain had said, a vessel was ready and waiting, guarded by several of his men, who opened the hatch of the ship when they saw the royal party approaching.

  One of the soldiers asked the captain about the noise as they came near, and the captain shouted his response. “A riot has broken out. Get everyone on board. We need to subdue the streets. This isn’t over yet.”

  The family had begun to board the sea vessel when Lyneah cried out, “Where is Kasdan? Here’s not here.”

  Everyone stopped and looked around, but the princess had spoken the truth. There was no sign of him. Sera’s chest constricted with worry. She’d seen him during the marriage ceremony. He was one of the brothers who’d stood witness. In all the uproar, he must have become separated from the group.

  Captain Remmer scowled. “Into the vessel,” he barked. “We must get to the safety of the palace.”

  “Where is my son, Captain?” the queen demanded.

  “I don’t know, ma’am. I thought he was with us. I will send men to fetch him, but everyone must get inside. Quickly!”

  The queen and the rest of the siblings were escorted into the vessel. Sera studied the strange vessel as she watched them board it. The rushing waters lapped fiercely against the hull, but it did not budge or strain. No mooring ropes held it in. The Kingfountain navy had many sea crafts like this one, ones that could stand still in inclement waters and travel beneath the waves. It was one reason the war had gone on so long.

  Trevon helped Sera enter, but he remained on the pier, looking back toward the sanctuary in confusion and agitation. The two brothers were close, and it did not surprise her that he hesitated to leave Kasdan behind.

  “Trevon, get down here!” the queen commanded.

  The king had also remained behind, and he and Trevon looked at each other in alarm.

  “Your Highness,” Captain Remmer said forcefully. “You must board the vessel.”

  “What about Prince Kasdan?” the king asked coldly.

  “I don’t know why he didn’t come. But he’ll be found. It will be our first priority.”

  The king’s face showed deep consternation. His brows were forked, his expression grim and worried. “Madness,” he muttered. “It is all madness!” Then he gave Trevon an accusatory look, as if the rabble and riot were his fault for marrying Sera.

  Sera could not help but resent the implication. Part of her suspected that General Montpensier and his Espion were responsible for the riot.

  “Please!” Captain Remmer said forcefully. He look
ed about ready to seize both men and drag them on board.

  The king finally acquiesced and nodded for Trevon to do the same. He followed, and the captain unclenched his fist and pointed a finger at the two guards who had been left to guard the ship.

  “Go back to the sanctuary and find Prince Kasdan. See that he’s brought safely back to the palace.”

  “Yes, Captain,” they said and marched away. The captain himself closed the hatch as everyone settled onto the benches. The ship lurched and began to plow upstream against the massive force of the river with ease. As they moved away from the conflict, Sera’s fears began to subside, but not entirely. How many guards had been sent to secure the streets for the wedding? That left the Espion primarily in control of the palace. She pursed her lips, not wanting to voice her fear, especially since Kasdan had not yet been found. Instead, she merely squeezed closer to Trevon, who sat beside her on the bench. Her husband. He was her husband. Her mind was still reeling from the chaotic ceremony.

  What a frightful day it had become.

  After several minutes in the water, the vessel reached the docks on the palace side of the surging river and came to rest in the quay. The men who’d come to greet them were not wearing the uniforms of the guard, Sera noticed at once, and they all wore Espion rings.

  “I don’t like this,” Sera said darkly.

  “It’s not how I intended our wedding to go either,” Trevon replied.

  “Not that. Them.” She nodded to the Espion on the deck as the Argentine siblings began to climb out of the ship and up onto the pier.

  “Where’s Montpensier?” the king asked one of the Espion.

  “He’s attending to the carriage, which just arrived. There was an accident of some sort down there?”

  “It was no accident,” said the king disdainfully. “Tell him I want to see him at once.”

  “Of course, my lord,” said one of the men. Sera noticed the man didn’t look worried or concerned. He wasn’t asking questions about what sort of violence had unfolded on the bridge. Why would a spy remain quiet? Unless they already knew?