This was who his mother thought he was going to marry?
“Take one step toward that door and you’ll be standing at the altar in shackles,” his father hissed.
“You’re both out of your mind. We’ll kill each other by nightfall,” he snapped, straining to keep his voice low. “The second I turn my back, he’ll have a knife in it.”
“Then you had best not turn your back. You don’t have to like it?—”
“Trust me, I don’t.”
His father glared at him. “You don’t have to like it, but this is happening, no matter how much you protest. Now be quiet and let’s get this over with.”
A woman stepped into the aisle and looped her arm through the raider’s. Side by side, they bore a strong resemblance, and he realized this had to be the man’s mother. If this had been a normal ceremony, it would be sweet. Now, Syrus could see that she was quite literally dragging her son alongside her, forcing him to close the distance. A few of the other reluctant couples turned to stare, realizing there was more drama here than even these stupid marriages could account for.
Being forced into this was bad enough. Syrus refused to become a spectacle as well. He pressed his lips together and waited in silence as the two joined them. They weren’t actually at an altar, given how many couples were being hand-fasted at one time here, but as a prince, he at least earned a small dais near the front.
“Lord Vardor, it is a pleasure to meet you in person at last,” the woman said, her words accented with a hint of Canjiri lilt. Her bow was perfect, low enough to honor a king consort but not so low as to debase herself. Her son, of course, didn’t so much as twitch.
“The pleasure is mine, Lady C’Dari,” Syrano replied. “Allow me to formally introduce my son, Prince Syrus Vardor, Captain of the Seventh Legion.”
Lady C’Dari’s bow to him was just as politely perfect, just a degree higher than for his father. At least he hadn’t gone into the full list of Syrus’ titles. The only one he’d truly earned was his role as captain.
“Prince Syrus, Lord Vardor, it is an honor to introduce my son, Eiri C’Dari.”
Eiri. Finally, a name to go with the face of his long-time adversary. Syrus caught the way her knuckles went white, gripping Eiri’s arm until he sketched a rudely shallow bow to the two of them.
“A pleasure,” he said, and his mother’s grip on his arm tightened even further at the thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. Clearly, the man had spent too long raiding and not nearly long enough learning manners and etiquette.
This was going to be a disaster.
“Now that everyone is here, I will let the officiants know we can proceed,” Syrano said. He shot Syrus a quick look of warning, then left him alone with the two Canjiri.
A tense silence immediately fell. Syrus turned his full attention to the raider… to Eiri. A surprisingly gentle-sounding name for someone who made a living as a thief. He hadn’t changed much since their last encounter. Still lean, almost too much so, allowing him a speed Syrus could never quite match. He had strength on his side, though, which helped level the odds. Eiri’s eyes were uncommonly light for a Canjiri, but with that same strange tilt that was unique to them. It made it simple to pick out the enemy in a fight, at least.
“Perhaps the two of you should get to know each other?” Lady C’Dari suggested, shattering the silence.
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” Eiri’s Vaetrean had a strong Canjiri accent, shifting emphasis strangely, but the fact he spoke a civilized language at all was a surprise.
“You are going to be married. It seems imprudent to start your lives together with animosity.”
“No offense meant, Lady C’Dari, but if you and the queen were hoping for a peaceful union, you shouldn’t have chosen us for this,” Syrus cut in.
“At least we can agree on one thing,” Eiri said, and it sounded like it genuinely pained him to agree with Syrus about anything.
Lady C’Dari shook her head, but before she could speak, the officiant stepped up to the one altar that actually was in the room. A tiny ripple of magic swept over the room, getting everyone’s attention. Syrus didn’t recognize her, but she was clearly from the continent, rather than Canjir.
“Thank you to everyone here with us today,” she began, and Syrus bit back a groan. She was really going to pretend this was a proper ceremony, when everyone knew this was involuntary. Under normal circumstances, having this combination of people in one room would end in a bloodbath. He pushed her voice to the background, focusing instead on the man beside him again.
Lady C’Dari wisely stood between them, but Eiri stood a few inches taller than her, allowing Syrus to see him. Eiri, unsurprisingly, was watching him, too. Their eyes met over her head. Syrus made no attempt to hide his anger and disdain for this whole situation, and neither did Eiri.
It was a good thing this was only a handfasting and the actual ceremony was still weeks away. Now that the shock was wearing off, his fury rushed in. If his father had allowed to keep his sword, he couldn’t have stopped himself from using it.
For years, the two of them had faced off. Syrus couldn’t count the number of hours he’d spent in villages and towns along the coast, helping clean up and recover from a Canjiri raid. The raiders had never injured civilians or damaged property, at least until recently, but they’d ransacked businesses and shops with impunity, taking whatever they wanted and leaving terrorized merchants in their wake. Barred doors never stopped them, not even those warded by magic. Over the years, that had lent an unearned mystique to the raiders.
Syrus stilled, a sudden idea forming. Perhaps some good could come of this disaster of a marriage. No one knew how the raiders could so easily break through wards, no matter how powerful the mage that laid them. This could be his chance to find out. If they were to live together, it would allow him access to Eiri’s possessions. Syrus was no mage, but surely even he could pick out whatever talisman or spell bag Eiri had? Such things were costly, so the odds of him leaving it behind were small.
It would be so damn satisfying to finally learn the secret that had eluded them for so long. To find a way to counteract it. There was peace with the Canjiri now, true, but how long would that truly last? How long before they fell back into the lawlessness that had defined them for centuries? Syrus was a lot of things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. He would learn Eiri’s secrets and the next time they faced each other on a battlefield, he’d be prepared.
Bolstered by newfound determination, Syrus turned his attention back to the officiant, repeating the words she gave them in unison with the others in the room. She spoke awhilelonger, words about love and trust and devotion that meant absolutely nothing to anyone here today. She concluded the ceremony with another minor spell that washed out across the room, and Syrus felt this one catch on him, like a tiny hook in his sternum. The feeling faded almost immediately, but it lingered in his mind. The ceremony was complete. He was now hand-fasted to one of the few people in the world that he genuinely hated, and in two weeks, they would be married for good.
