Gods, she was beautiful, just like the blade he’d given her. He was honored she’d paired it with her gown. It suited her more than all the lace and silk and jewels. It suitedthem.
The Godspriest began his speech, which meant Teryn had to wrench his eyes away from his beloved. The inches of space between them were proper yet agonizing. He wanted to reach for her palm and pull her closer. Instead, he clasped his gloved hands at his waist and forced himself to focus on the Godspriest. The man’s words were drowned out by the racing of his heart, the anticipation rushing through his blood.
Finally, the Godspriest directed him and Cora to face each other. They did as told, and Teryn was rewarded with the sweetest, most timid smile he’d ever seen grace Cora’s lips. He’d seen her naked. He’d touched every bare part of her. He’d felt her tremble with release. Yet this was a new level of intimacy. Vulnerability. And he was glad of it. Glad that this ceremony could still feel so deeply personal, even though they were merely performing a ritual countless others had done before.
Upon the Godspriest’s instruction, he and Cora clasped hands. Even through their gloves, he could feel the warmth of her. He held Cora’s eyes, lost in them, in her, as the Godspriest performed the next part of the ritual.
One by one, he removed a strand of beads from around his neck and draped them over the couple’s clasped hands.
Red beads for the Goddess of War.
Blue for the Goddess of the Sea.
Green for the God of Mercy.
Gold for the God of Justice.
Black for the Goddess of Death.
White for the God of Creation.
And finally, pink for the Goddess of Love.
Then came the ceremonial words. Cora went first, repeating the dry and feelingless statements to Teryn. When it was Teryn’s turn, he held her palm tighter, desperate to convey that which was in his heart. Not the words he had to repeat. But the ones in his mind.
Open your senses to me, he silently begged of her as he gently tightened his grip once more in a single, deliberate pulse.Feel what I truly mean to convey.
Out loud he said, “I, Teryn Alante, Prince of Vera, take you to be my wedded wife.”
I, Teryn, ask you to have me, exactly as I am.
“In doing so, I bind our houses…”
I bind my heart to yours.
“…uniting Vera with Khero.”
Uniting our souls.
“I honor you for better or worse, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and health…”
I honor you in all things. I am here for you always.
“…to love and cherish ’til death do we part…”
I love you. I’ve already loved you beyond death. I fought death for you and I will fight death again if it means coming back to you.
“…in accordance with the law of the seven gods.”
This is what I want. What I choose. I choose you. I will always choose you.
Cora’s eyes glazed with tears, and he wondered if she’d understood. If she’d opened herself to his emotions to at least feel what he’d woven between his words. She squeezed his hand back in answer. She knew what was in his heart.
The Godspriest removed the beads from their hands, granting blessings from each of the gods. Then, finally, their hands no longer burdened with the strands, the man announced them husband and wife.
Teryn’s heart thundered against his ribs as he reached for Cora. He wasn’t even certain the Godspriest had stated they could kiss, but he didn’t care. He framed her face in his hands, and her arms wound around his waist. Their lips met in a firm yet tender kiss. How badly he wanted to deepen it, to sweep his tongue against hers, to steal her breath and give her his in return, but he settled on a prolonged meeting of their mouths. A silent reiteration of everything he’d conveyed in his vows.
When they eventually pulled apart, he found Cora’s cheeks were wet and her smile was wide. “I love you,” she whispered, the sound drowned by the audience’s applause.
