Valenden added, “That means that Rangar will be named king, but you cannot formally become queen until after the grieving period, when you’re married.”
Bryn felt her shoulders raise in a shrug. “So be it, then. I am in no rush to be queen.”
“Yes,” Valenden clarified, “but that gives more opportunities for our enemies to try to invalidate your engagement on the grounds that siblings would rule two kingdoms.”
“Siblings-in-law,” Bryn emphasized. “It’s completely different.”
Valenden and Mage Marna’s stony looks said that while they agreed with her, others might not.
Bryn leaned forward and rubbed her tired eyes. “What can I do to help?”
“Be as ready as you can to marry Rangar the moment he returns,” Mage Marna informed her.
* * *
For the next two days,Bryn threw herself into wedding planning. She finalized the menu with Roxin, ordered a wreath of maiden roses to be woven and ready to hang in the town square, and sat down to write a letter to Mars.
Dear brother,
It is an uncertain time in the Baersladen. King Aleth may pass any day. It is my hope to be able to marry Rangar before his coronation, but much may yet stand in our way. I would love to have you and Illiana attend the wedding, but I fear there is not time for you to make the journey. Please know you will be here in spirit.
Mouse
Finally, she couldn’t put off getting fitted for a wedding gown any longer. She met with Helna in the seamstress’s sewing room, pausing at the door as she recalled the last time she’d been here, when Trei was being measured for his wedding suit, standing half-naked with his hexmark scars on full display.
Now, her former wedding dress hung on a dressmaker’s form, its beautiful obsidian gems glittering in the lantern light. Someone had cleaned Trei’s bloodstains from the cuffs.
“Lady Bryn?” Helna prompted. “Are you well? You look pale.”
As though waking from a dream, Bryn blinked. “Y . . . yes. Sorry.”
Helna motioned to the dark gray wedding gown. “I’ve been informed time is of the essence. The quickest option would be to modify your former gown. I can alter the neckline, add a train . . .”
“No,” Bryn whispered, unable to tear her eyes off the doomed gown. “Please. I—I can’t wear that again.”
Helna pressed her lips together in concern. “The fabric I ordered for a new gown comes from Zaradona. I thought I’d have more time. It will be weeks before it arrives . . . ”
Bryn tore her gaze away from the gown, shaking her head. “I was wearing that dress when I found Trei’s body. And Rangar will loathe the idea of marrying me in the same dress I wore to bind myself to his brother. Can’t we alter a different gown? There must be some way.”
“I suppose I could dye a wool dress a darker shade . . . It might not be as elegant as this one . . .”
“No, that’s perfect,” Bryn said in a rush.
Helna gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure Rangar would think you the most beautiful bride in the Eyrie even if you were wrapped in a sheet. Now, let me take your measurements.”
Bryn couldn’t stop imagining Trei’s ghost in the sewing room as the seamstress stretched her measuring string across Bryn’s chest. That day, Bryn and Trei had come to an agreement to remain friends and not to try to force love. They’d both admitted their hearts belonged to other people.
I miss you, Trei.And now, the kingdom was about to lose another Barendur.
That night, after sitting with the ailing, unconscious king for some time, Bryn’s mind was tied in such knots that she was desperate for a distraction. She couldn’t stop glancing out the window at the road every five minutes, looking for Rangar atop Legend.
She plunged into the mage library, going back through the books written in Mir to see if she and Ren had overlooked anything about spells to create beasts out of animals. She read about the history of magic in the Mirien before it was banished two hundred years ago. Back then, magic was practiced throughout each of the Eyrie kingdoms. Hexes governed the weather and farming, health and prosperity, and even solved disputes to keep the peace. There was an account of a blight on a winter gourd crop that would have resulted in famine throughout the Mirien’s western villages if not for a group of mages who came together to amplify a spell to cure the blight.
As she read, Bryn got madder and madder. Magic had the potential for so much good. It should never have been taken out of the common folk’s hands. Of course, it hadn’t happened all at once. No ancient king had suddenly declared it illegal to practice. Rather, with the rise of science and academics, magic was derided as backward until practicing it became shunned.
But magic is just as useful as science, Bryn thought.There is a place for both. They’re different sides to the same coin.
She read until the candle burned down and, yawning, rested her head on a pillow of books. She had just started dreaming of wolves again when she was shaken awake.
