Mage Marna led her to stand beside Trei, and as soon as she was in her position, the gathered crowd gave a cheer and yelled a traditional call three times that made Bryn’s heart thunder.
Her chest felt too restricted in the dress with the fabric soaked and sticking to her skin. She forced herself to take steady breaths.
My wedding day. To someone else!
Had her mother felt like this at her wedding? Had Elysander? Was Bryn just the latest in a long line of heartbroken royal women?
As much as she wanted to squeeze Rangar’s ring around her neck, she forced herself not to. There would be no bigger sign of disrespect toward Trei. For his part, Trei looked every bit the dashing prince. The suit Helna had made for him fit his broad shoulders perfectly, though his rain cloak hid much of it.
“You may face one another,” the vicar prompted.
Bryn obeyed the vicar’s commands as though someone else was moving her body. Her mind was elsewhere, not here on this stage at her own wedding. As the vicar went through the ritual that she’d been taught the previous day, her mind felt only numb.
She was afraid to look at Trei. Afraid that all she would see was not the person she wanted.
This is supposed to beRangarat my side.
When it was finally time to face Trei and agree to the marriage, Bryn looked into his eyes for the first time since the ceremony began and was surprised.
Trei wasn’t Rangar, it was true, but he was hardly a rogue. Trei was her friend and someone she trusted, who had risked his life for her just as the rest of his family had. At the vicar’s question, Trei swore himself to her, and then the vicar turned the question on Bryn, and the entire crowd went still, awaiting her answer.
“Bryn Lindane of the Mirien, do you bind yourself with Trei Barendur, Prince of the Baersladen?”
Bryn opened her mouth, unsure what she would say.
Chapter
Five
A FEAST INTERRUPTED . . . vows . . . shelter from the rain . . . a first dance . . . Legend
Standing on the stage in the pouring rain, Bryn looked out at the Mir refugees in the crowd who had come to see if their new crown heir would follow through on her promise to make amends for the crimes of her family.
Swallowing, she said in a voice she hoped wouldn’t shake, “I do.”
It was like a knife to her chest, a pain she’d never known.
“You may begin the marriage with a kiss,” the vicar prompted.
Trei’s green eyes fell on hers, and she saw the anguish in them. This was hard for him, too. The love of his life, Saraj, was watching in the crowd, heartbroken. Yet he was doing what he had to for his people.
So would she.
When Trei touched her chin gently, she tipped it up. His face lowered to hers. She closed her eyes as their lips touchedbeneath the pounding rain. The kiss wasn’t as unpleasant as she feared. There was a sweetness to it, a promise of something. Friendship, maybe. Over time, it could be something more.
It was small, but therewasa spark.
The gathered crowd started cheering, throwing their hoods back to shout the good news to the sky. Bryn stared at them in shock. They didn’t seem to have picked up on any of her or Trei’s reluctance. Their beloved prince had married, a joyous feast would follow, and soon, the two kingdoms would be joined and all the Mirien’s bounty would be open to them. It was a new era for the Eyrie.
I’m married. It happened.
That awful pain stabbed her again. Trei glanced at her, reached out, and gave her hand a slight squeeze.
On her other side, King Aleth rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. She flinched, still feeling more like this was a hanging instead of a wedding.
“Welcome to the Barendur family,” the king said. “This is indeed a joyous occasion. Let us celebrate with brandy and music!”
Joyouswas not the word that came to mind to Bryn. The ache in her heart had spread to her head, and it throbbed painfully. The crowd looked anxious to get into the dry warmth of the great hall. King Aleth stepped off the stage, which signaled the start of the wedding feast, and the villagers rushed toward the castle entrance.
