If he wanted—and, oh, he still wanted—he could easilytrace the line of her neck. Her lips parted when she saw him. Her gaze fell to the bouquet of flowers still clutched in his hand. When she looked at him again, her eyes shone.
But she did not drop the knife.
“Look at us,” she said. She laughed, but it came out as a sob.
Instinctively, Arris went to cup her cheek but there was something caught in his fist. Her necklace. He didn’t even remember summoning it, but there it was. His only means of protection. His most terrible weapon against her. Demelza flinched.
“I didn’t mean—” he said, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. The truth was that Arris would defend himself. Whether that meant he’d use Demelza’s greatest weakness against her to do so, he couldn’t say. And the truth of that shamed him.
“I don’t want to,” he said.
Beneath his words lay another plea: Do not make me.
Demelza blinked back tears. “I could sing right now. I know you hate the sound of it, but I could sing and force the truth out of you. And perhaps you are being honest… and if you are, then where does that leave us, Arris? Maybe this time you don’t want to dangle control over my own form in front of me… but what about the next time? What if you tire of me? What if someone lays a trap and you think that I mean to harm you and so you turn me into a swan before I could do anything to hurt you?”
“And how do I know you won’t turn power hungry like your father?” demanded Arris. “How do I know you won’tdecide to free your heart and love another?” He dropped the bouquet. He wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t summon one from inside him.
“Clearly, love is not enough,” he said.
Demelza bit her lip. “You’re right… love is not enough.”
Mere seconds passed, but Arris felt each one weighing on him as if they were centuries.
“Now what?” she asked, and her voice was bitter. “Should we count to three and see who triumphs over the other? Or should we at least enjoy our wedding feast before all of this falls apart?”
The longer Arris stared at her, the more he felt his heart stretched taut to the point of snapping in two. Several unknowns faced him. If he lost her, he did not know how he could live. And if she remained, he did not know how long he would live. Either way he turned, he would find neither sweetness nor safety. There would always be an unknown. Always the ground would feel as if it were shifting…
And perhaps…
Perhaps that’s simply how it was with life and love.
Arris stared at the clear blade in Demelza’s hand. He reached out, not quite sure what he was doing until his hand closed over her clenched fist. The necklace was still in his grip and when he touched her, it fell over her wrist. Demelza shuddered.
“And what of trust in all this, Demelza?” he asked. “What if… what if we entrusted our hearts to one another not because we had to… but because we want to?”
Demelza glanced at their joined hands before looking at him. “What if we fail? What if we hurt one another?”
“What if we do… and what if it’s still not the end? What if we spoke to each other before striking out… what if we made our own happiness?” asked Arris. A great hope moved through him. “What if we chose one another… not just today, but every day?”
“Is that what you want, Arris?” she asked. A slight tremor snuck into her voice. It was fear. And love. The sound of it was hope and it alchemized some leaden and weary part of Arris’s soul to gold.
“I do,” he said. “And you, Demelza? Can you live with this uncertainty? Do you want this?”
“I do,” she said.
Arris did not know what fell first. The necklace or the blade. But it didn’t matter. It was lost in the sequence of other joys. Demelza’s fingers threaded through his hair in the same moment he seized her waist. Her eyes fluttered shut at the same time their lips touched. He felt a smile on his mouth and he did not know who it had first belonged to.
All that mattered was that it existed.
Epilogue
Arris and Demelza were married with great pomp and ceremony. For years to come, the courtiers would argue over what she had worn, for her wedding dress changed every few paces. Lady Edmea had promised her a raiment befitting the future Queen of the Isle of Malys and thus the whole of the Isle was to be represented.
When Demelza first walked down the aisle, delicate wings of frost unfurled from the shoulders of her silver gown, scattering snow upon the bystanders. The people of the Aatos Mountains cheered. Next, a towering crown of gold brambles shot through the braids of Demelza’s hair, ending in the delicate antlers of the Ulva Wyld’s famed golden stags. The Wyldfolke roared with delight. Before she joined Arris, an exquisite net of seed pearls from the bottom of the Famishing tumbled over Demelza’s face and the merfolk flashed their teeth, satisfied. And when the veil was lifted, a diadem of polished ozoralds appeared aroundDemelza’s head as the silvery gown bloomed with cave jewels. The Glimmerians clapped wildly. The whole time, the people from the Vale of Sylke smiled smugly. After all, the dress would not have existed without Lady Edmea.
The wedding banquet was just as staggering. Ursula constructed a tower of miniature cakes. To the guests’ horror and her siblings’ delight, Ursula had even celebrated the cuisine of the veritas swans. Several iced buns held fat spiders suspended in a jam of cloud berries, and a table full of locust custard buns served with a sauce of winter cherries flambeéd in ice wine kept buzzing and humming and rising off the tables. When they cut into the cake—which Ursula had divided into layers of candied aphids for Demelza and caramelized hazelnuts for Arris—Demelza looked over the towering confection to see Araminta and the queen in deep conversation. When Yzara caught Demelza’s eye, she dipped her chin and smiled knowingly.
No wedding is complete without curses and blessings dispersed at random and without consent. This turned out to be a wonderful thing for Zoraya, who had been despondent ever since the third trial. When a passing arrow—shot by an assassin who had gotten too drunk to do his job properly—turned her dear friend Niko into a statue, Zoraya’s heart came alive and she swore that she would never rest until he could be restored to flesh and hear her declare her love as Niko had done for her many, many times.
