The silence was deafening—and the timing could not be worse.
Girion’s voice, even though it had been toned to a low, threatening rumble, had reached a dozen people, people who gasped, and who started to whisper to their neighbors who hadn’t heard.
He wasn’t sure how much of the exchange had happened once the music stopped, but he suspected it was only his ending—and not the insulting words he’d said, since the Archduke wasn’t shouting and storming up to him.
Naturally, that was when the steward and four of his guards came in with the throne on a wooden platform with wheels, working as discreetly as they could.
Which was not discreet at all, bringing in a large silver throne piled and draped with furs and padded with velvet through a crowded ballroom.
Jocasta gave him a panicked, puzzled look, fleeting and fast when she caught his eye, and then she composed her features.
“Well, I suppose this is as good a time to tell them as any, Your Majesty,” General Raghnall announced, squiring Jocasta back to the shifter king. “I have suspected for quite some time.”
Girion blessed every star that had ever aligned to put Raghnall in his inner circle and in his army. The man could pivot on the battlefield or a council, or, as it turned on, on the ballroom floor.
“Yes, General. Nothing escapes your keen eye. My friends and dearest subjects. I did not announce in my invitation why I was hosting this ball, but now you must know. It is in celebration of my upcoming marriage, and I ask you all to join us here again in three days’ time, to witness my wedding to the mage, Jocasta, and to see her crowned as Queen of Caledon. Come, my darling, we’ll sit and discuss things with the bishop while the others carry on the merrymaking,” Girion exclaimed and held out his hands for Jocasta’s.
She took it, and he moved with her as if they had coordinated every step, walking to the thrones now sitting side by side—him gallantly helping her take her seat, her squeezing his hand, her eyes only on him.
“Wonderful news, sire!” Lord Arendale, Master of the Treasury, clapped his hands and beamed.
Soon, everyone else was doing the same.
Well, almost everyone. Archduke Reynard and his family seemed stunned, frozen in place. Flames flickered from Lady Renata’s fingertips.
JOCASTA WAS RELIEVEDfor it to be known, for people to come and greet her, and to be off her feet and spared from dancing. She was relieved to hold Girion’s hand and to feel some measure of tension leaving her. No one had rioted. Called her a fraud or unworthy. There was one final dance at the end of the evening, slow at last, and she could feel waves of exhaustion seeping from both her and Girion.
It was nice to simply lean on his chest, failing at all formality, but then again, so was he.
“Three days?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I had thought a week, or even a month. But the ports are freezing. People are leaving the settlements. It’s all my fault. I waited too long—”
“If you hadn’t waited, you’d be with Renata instead of me.”
Jocasta grinned when she felt him embrace her, a real, genuine embrace, one of pure friendship, she was certain, accompanied by a low, thankful chuckle. “I am thankful, but I don’t want people to wait too long to feel relief. If your parents could be here tonight, I would ask—”
“I would say yes. But I am glad it gives my parents time to arrive.”
“And for us to meet with the bishop, for the stewards to send the invitations, for the cooks to make another banquet.”
“Still. At least now they know I am a mage, and I am going to be queen. That will be a comfort to know aid is on the way. Several people said that it already seems warmer.”
“Perhaps our bargain is enough to start the magic’s rejuvenation.”
“Perhaps. The main thing is—it’s done.” She let out a sigh against his chest.
“No. It’s about to start,” he whispered.
Chapter Nine
Jocasta was relieved to learn that she had to do nothing for the wedding plans. The Master of the Wardrobe would have her gown made in time. The cooks and kitchen attendants would have a banquet ready. Girion would be in charge of ensuring all the right people were invited, and on that score, he was assisted by a dozen advisors.
When Jocasta had asked what she needed to do, Girion had looked at Cole and Herrick, and Cole had gone to send a message to his mother. She would know.
“In the meantime, you take care of your parents. We’ll send transport for them, and you’ll put them in the guest rooms, of course, or if you want to scout ‘round the city and find their future dwelling, do that. This place will be crowded enough with visiting nobles—although with the short notice, we may be spared some of them. As it is our wedding, we will also be spared some of the ghastly hosting duties. I’ve put Lord Arendal in charge of that, and hopefully all of them will leave within three days after the wedding.”
“What happens three days after the wedding?” Jocasta asked, scribbling frantically on parchment before handing it to Herrick. “Ensure this is delivered to my parents. Please send it ahead of the carriages by messenger hawk.”
