by James Dale
"The Vow of Matrimony is the most sacred ceremony required by Father Yh," the priest explained patiently. "Only the raising of a priest is more holy. The three days are a time for contemplation and prayer, my son."
"Father," Jack pleaded, "I've spent more time praying in the last month than I have in my entire life. It should count for something."
"Has it not?" the priest asked with a smile. "In a month you have become Swordmaster of Aralon and the acknowledged Heir of Ljmarn Bra’Adan. You saved Annawyn’s throne, and been given the love of a woman strong enough to throw aside century’s old custom. Surely you have learned the value of prayer?"
"Yes but..."
"Three days in not such a long time, my son," the priest smiled. "You, more than anyone, need the blessing of Yh. Not only for your marriage to the queen, but for the future."
Three days. Seventy-two hours. Each minute felt like an eternity to Jack, alone in the chapel at the Tower of the White Horse. He prayed harder than he ever had before. He slept. He waited. He prayed some more. And waited. And waited. When Sir Gain…Duke Gain now, finally came to fetch him at the end of his solitary devotional, he felt like he'd been on his knees for months.
"Let's go," Annawyn's cousin said, entering the chapel in the full, gold and white armor of the Tower Knights. "Time for your ritual bath. And you can surely use one," he added with a smile.
Jack was escorted by a platoon of knights back to the palace. Perhaps they were even the same twelve who had surrounded him that morning so long ago, who had taken him to the palace stand trial for piracy. This time however, they treated him like an honored guest. They relinquished charge of him at the doors of the palace, his escort now an army of servants under the command of Junior Stewarts Apprentice, Daen Haemon. Daen took him to his suite where he took a long, luxurious bath, trimmed his beard, and dressed in the traditional white garments of a Doridanian groom.
Then he waited some more.
Tarsus came by about an hour before sunset, hardly recognizable with a new, shorter haircut and outfitted in finely tailored silks.
"Tarsus Aernin," Jack grinned. "You look almost...respectable."
"I feel ridiculous," the Amarian muttered. "In Zsolandar, the jungles tribes marry naked as the day they were born. The entire village. Now that's the way to hold a wedding. The celebration after-ward isn't so bad either," he grinned.
"Why'd you cut your hair?"
"That...that was Maerinna's idea," he sighed. Maerinna was Maerinna An’Kaera, daughter of Kaerl, and a princess of Annoth. Daen had informed Jack she’d taken an instant…liking, to the future King of Amar. Rough edges and all. Daen had also informed him it was plain for all to see the girl would like to be the first Queen of Amar in almost eight centuries. "The girl's nice enough, Jack, but she's barely grown. Don't get me wrong, she's pretty and all with her blonde hair and her big…ummm, blue eyes, but..."
"When you look a yearling colt, can you tell what kind of horse it will grow into?" Jack asked.
Yes?" the Amarian nodded hesitantly.
"I know that is a poor analogy, but look at Maerinna, then imagine her in three years. Or five. Or even ten."
The Amarian thought for a minute, then a slow grin spread across his rugged face. "I see your point."
"Five years from now, kingdoms will be fighting wars for a chance at her hand. I can't have that. It's your duty," Jack grinned, "as a friend of the future High King of Aralon, to keep it from happening. That girl will be a queen to rival Eirthawyn. Mark my words. If you can't do it for yourself, think of Amar."
"It's my duty, huh?" Tarsus chuckled. "Perhaps it is time I settled down? Tereil would certainly be pleased. I mean...if he would approve of a queen who wasn't Amarian."
"If Tereil saw her, he'd have you married so fast your head would spin," Jack laughed.
"Why are we talking about me?" Tarsus asked. "You're the one about to get married! That is if you still want to go through with this? It's not too late to change your mind," he grinned. "We could slip away while everyone's still busy setting up. Muriel's Revenge is down at Wheslake I hear. What do you say? Want to reform the Brotherhood? Leave all this behind? All the lords and ladies and talk of war? We could be honest pirates again. Of course, Annawyn would track you down and drag you back to the alter by your ear. After she skinned me alive."
"I wouldn't want that," Jack sighed. "I've gotten kind of used to having you around, skin and all. So, I guess I'll stay. Anna doesn't compare to Maerinna, but when a man reaches my age, he's got to take what he can get. What's say we go downstairs and get me hitched before she comes to her senses?"
"Good choice," Tarsus grinned. "Besides, you can always close your eyes and pretend she's Teala."
"I'll pretend, you didn't say that," Jack laughed.
Standing in the throne room of the Doridanian palace, very near the exact spot where he'd stood once and been sentenced to crucifixion, and before many of the exact same people, As Jack Braedan held the hand of Annawyn Ellgereth, Queen of Doridan, he was barely aware of the words spoken by the smiling priest of Yh’Adan. His silk doublet was unbearably hot for some reason, and quite frankly, he couldn’t take his eyes off Anna. She was dressed in a flowing white gown, and had white flowers intertwined into her glorious red hair. She blushed every time she looked and him, and he could do nothing about the utterly stupid grin he wore. He knew he looked three times the fool, but he didn’t care. After a whispered “I do,” the priest blessed them in the name of the Father, His Holy Son and the Spirit of Truth, and two became one flesh.
If Braedan thought his three days without seeing Annawyn had been agonizing, the three hours of their reception feast and guest greeting and seemingly hundreds of other post matrimonial customs, except the most important one in the minds of the newlyweds, seemed like an eternity. Toasts and congratulations and the obligatory dance, though he and Annawyn glided across the marble floor like they were two angels floating on a cloud, it was more akin to torture than a celebration.
When he could finally stand no more, he took his wife back to the dance floor, twirled the auburn-haired beauty around a couple of times, and then feinted twisting his ankle. Full of concern, Anna helped him to the side as he waved away helpful hands, assuring everyone he would be fine. The instant attention was diverted from them as the orchestra finished playing and the guests turned to applaud with approval, Braedan took Annawyn's hand and slipped behind the nearest column.
"Now's our chance to escape," he whispered.
"But your ankle..."
"Is fine," he grinned.
"Let's go," his wife said breathlessly, her eyes alight with desire.
Slipping from the hall and through the palace like hormonally possessed teenagers avoiding chaperons at the prom, they raced to Annawyn's chambers. The young queen of Doridan had barely locked the door behind them when Jack swept her off her feet and carried his laughing wife to her...their wedding bed, laying her gently on the soft sheets.
Braedan brushed aside a strand of auburn hair from Annawyn's face and caressed her silky cheek. He wanted to tell her the depth of his love, had rehearsed a heartfelt profession of undying devotion a hundred times over the three days he'd spent in the White Horse chapel, but gazing into those sea green pools flecked with gold, all words failed him.
"Beloved," she whispered huskily. "Is something wrong?"
"Wrong? Nothing will ever be wrong again, my heart," Jack replied. "As long as I can look..."
"Look?" Annawyn panted, popping buttons off his shirt as she ripped it open. "If you just wanted to look we could have stayed at the..."
"I'm finished looking," he said, and kissed his wife.
"My husband," Annawyn said softly, her head nestled on his shoulder, fingers tracing delicate circles on his chest.
"Yes, my wife?" Jack sighed. If there was anything on heaven or earth more...perfect...than the smell of her hair, the feel of her velvety skin, the sound of her whispered voice, it was beyond his limited
human imagining.
"Nothing," she smiled, her green eyes lifting to meet his with a look of such love Jack thought his heart would stop. "I just like saying those words, and you answering."
Jack kissed her forehead.
"My husband?"
"Yes, my wife?"
"Could you...could we?"
"Again?" Jack smiled.
"Please, my husband," Annawyn whispered.
"Jack?"
"I can't move," he laughed softly.
"I can," Annawyn replied. Swinging a long leg over to straddle him, she leaned forward and playfully nipped his neck. "If are you able?" she whispered, her hot tongue snaking inside his ear.
"Do that again," he shivered, "and I think we'll find out."
"Like this....or...like that?"
"Exactly like that."
"Shall I do it again?"
"Please...mmmm...I believe that did it," Jack said, his hands sliding down to lift her hips.
"It...did," she moaned he lowered her onto him.
"Remind me to give Eliayas a raise," Annawyn murmured sometime later.
"Remind me to thank him for that concoction he gave me this morning," Jack chuckled. "I think there was more in it than my last dose of painkillers."
"Thank Shaeron," she smiled. "She suggested he add something that would...enhance, our wedding night. Do you think it's still working?" his wife asked, and began to kiss his neck, his shoulders, and his chest.
It was.
Braedan opened his eyes late the following morning to find his wife gently tracing a finger around one of the scars on his chest.
"Did it hurt?" she asked softly, leaning over to kiss the round, puckered tissue where a 7.62-millimeter bullet had nearly taken his life.
"I don't really remember that one," he sighed.
"What about this one?" Another bullet wound. Another kiss.
"That one either."
"Where did you get them, Beloved?"
"Afghanistan. Maybe it was Pakistan. I don't really remember those days too clearly. I wasn't...well at the time."
"Pakistan?" she asked. "Afghanistan? I don't…recognize those kingdoms, and I know all the kingdoms on this continent. Where are they?"
"A long, long, way from Dorshev, my love."
"When...when will you be leaving?" she whispered.
"Kicking me out already?" asked Jack with a wry smile.
"If it were up to me, we'd spend the rest of our lives in this bed, but soon...you must..."
"I know."
"I...I can't go with you to Lordsisle, Beloved."
"I know."
"If only I wasn't queen..."
"But you are, my heart."
"When?"
"Soon," Braedan sighed. "But not today." He pulled Annawyn close and kissed her.
"When?" she asked again, much later.
"A few days," Jack replied. "A week at the most. Where are you going?" he asked as Anna slipped from beneath the silk sheets.
"To find Shaeron," his wife smiled mischievously, heading for the door. "If we only have a week, I mean to make the most of it."
"Like that?” he teased. “I don't mind looking at your old, wrinkled body..." Annawyn was surely the most beautiful creature ever fashioned by the hand of God. "...but your guards might be offended."
"Old and wrinkled, am I?" she asked, bending over seductively to pick her wedding dress off the floor.
"Do that again and you'll never reach the door," Jack said. Was this the same woman who had been shocked to learn he'd taken off her mail and outer clothes a week ago?
"So, you find me pleasing, after all," his wife laughed, slipping the gown over head with a delicious shimmy.
"I'm going to take a cold bath," he whispered, climbing out of their bed.
"Make the water warm. I'll join you when I get back," Annawyn instructed him, her eyes roaming over his muscular body.
'No, this wasn't the same woman,' Jack decided with a satisfied smile. 'This one shameless.'
"Be quick Jack, or you'll never reach the tub," Annawyn smiled as he bent down and picked his clothes off the floor.
Absolutely shameless!
That week was the most pleasurable of Jack Braedan's life. Each night he held Annawyn in his arms as if it would be their last together, and each morning he awoke to find her smiling at him, and offered a prayer of thanksgiving for one more day, blessed by the sight of her sparkling green eyes. With each passing day, though he always awoke surprised to learn such a thing was possible, his love for his wife grew more and more. Every smile, every touch, and every word she spoke, added to the depth of his love until he wondered how he had ever lived without her. Or how he could possibly live once he was forced to leave her. One week. Seven days. It seemed a terribly short time when it might be all he had left with the woman who gave his life meaning.
"My husband," Annawyn said lovingly, brushing a lock of hair from Jack's forehead on the morning beginning their second week of marriage. "Will...will you leave today?"
"I think so," he sighed, reaching up to caress her cheek.
Everything was ready. He could put it off no longer. Cassy had recruited twenty-five Doridanians into the Golden Lions of Thonbor, adding Kyl Caracal, the Bowmaster Lukas a'Maeridon, as well Paul Rurik and Tarc Macuna their ranks. He had taken their oaths. They had sworn to protect and serve the House of Bra'Adan with sword and blood and life. They were not yet a force equal to any regiment in Doridan as Cassaban had promised, but in one week he had made them into a company to be feared by an enemy four times their size. He would have time to make them even more formidable in the few months Jack would be away. Only Kirk, Cyran, Arrgenn, Anghol and Brian of his Lions would accompany him. Erlwin was not well enough to travel, though he denied it vehemently.
He would not be unprotected on his journey to Lordsisle.
Everyone selected to travel with him was packed and ready. Thonicil had ridden back to Immer the minute it was decided he was going, taking half a dozen spare Val'anna with him for remounts, to say good-bye to Thessa and his newborn son. He had returned just passed midnight last night. The Ailfar were ready; Arrinor, Ailicia and Lady Ara’fael. Malik Gamrin was always ready at a moment's notice. The bulk of Prince Kirstaen's gear was aboard Mureil's Revenge and no packing on his part was required. Captain d’Kenna and the High King’s Hammer, stayed in a perpetual state of alert at all times. He and the Hammer had left yesterday morning for Dorihil to prepare for their arrival. Tarsus, like Malik Gamrin, was always ready. The twenty-five Galekindar remaining in Dorshev to supplement the Horsemaidens in protecting Annawyn were already on watch with the palace guard. Fifty more were three days on the road back to the Amarian hills, under the command of Captain Torhaman to refill their ranks and prepare Tereil and Amar for the war to come.
The last of the company chosen to accompany Braedan to the Temple of the Sword, to witness him draw the Highsword Ailswydyr was Sir Gain Ellgereth, Knight Lieutenant of the White Horse and new Duke of Raashan. Annawyn couldn't go as Doridan's representative. Nor could Duke Morgan. She would need his wisdom and experience to guide her in the coming months. Months in which the new queen would be busy preparing her kingdom to stand against the dark-ness rising in the east. A darkness Braedan felt growing stronger with each passing day like an approaching thunderstorm.
No, he couldn't put it off any longer. With a resigned sigh, Braedan sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"My husband," Annawyn said softly, running a finger down his spine.
Jack turned and looked into her sea green eyes. "Yes, my wife?"
"You don't have to leave this instant, do you?" she asked, lifting the silk sheets with an inviting smile.
"Well," he grinned, "I guess I could stay a bit longer."
Afterwards, Braedan slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife. If she opened her eyes again, he'd never make the morning meeting he'd scheduled with the Whesguardian leaders. He had a suspicion he wasn't
the only one drinking a glass of Shaeron's love potion with breakfast. Not that he minded, of course. But he'd barely had time to get anything done the last week. Anything outside of their bedroom at least.
Not that he minded.
They were already waiting for him in the king’s…the queen’s council room. Tarsus, Theros, Marten du'Gail, Cilidon, Captain Beltran, Kaerl An’kaera, Rhyn Dunnahel, Malik, Maadim Khalmiya, Baranir Samil, and Dor Gaellen, Lord Marshal of Doridan’s armies all stood as he entered.
"We were wondering if you were going to show," Tarsus grinned. "What did you have to do, tie her up?"
Braedan hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt. He knew the Amarian had only been joking. There was absolutely no way he could have known he'd done that very thing two nights ago with the silk sheets of their bed. Unless Doctor Aldrin had...No, Eliyaias might chuckle at the scratches on his back, but he would never, ever dare speak about them. Annawyn would sentence him to treating alley cats.
"She's sleeping," he muttered, taking the last available seat. Braedan hoped no one noticed him wince as he sat down. Though they had both been....pleased with the silk sheet experiment, he'd rather have her hands free. His wife did such wonderful things with her hands. Anna was simply going to have to cut her fingernails, and that was that. He didn't want to have to start wearing his Ithlemere scale to bed.
"Yh be praised," Tarsus laughed. "Maybe we can get something done today."
"Where's Morgan?" asked Jack, ignoring the barb.
"Duke Morgan is reviewing the Queen's First Light Horse this afternoon," Rhyn Dunnahel replied. "He waited as long as he could Prince Bra'Adan," the Knight Commander said, struggling to hide a smile.
"Morgan has briefed me fully, High Prince," Dor Gaellen informed him. "I know what he..."
"That will be fine," Braedan nodded. "Shall we get started? Theros? Do you have those figures I asked for?"
"With Marten's help," the King of Brydium replied, "we've calculated the legion's strength down to a man, plus or minus a company."
