I glowered at her.
Nikolai waved his hand in the air at me. “Where is Aleksei? Shouldn’t he be in here fighting for his right to lord Best Man Status over the rest of us? I’ve got jittery energy to burn. Do you think the high fae would mind if we took a spin in the training yard? We could battle each other for the position of Best Man!”
Yelena answered for me, knowing I had no idea where anyone was. Nor did I care, as long as they weren’t inhere. “Aleksei’s wife arrived this morning with the rest of our families. He clearly cares about her more than us.”
I sighed quietly. This wedding ceremony couldn’t come fast enough.
Thegreathallwascavernous, at least four stories high at its peak. Weak sunlight streamed in through the equally tall stained-glass windows behind where I stood on the dais, though not nearly as much sunlight as there would have been during their traditional morning weddings in this room. It was built facing east to catch the early morning rays, but tonight, in an effort to illuminate the darkening space, candles and fae lights cast a soft glow from their perches on the numerous balconies lining the two side walls. The timing of the evening ceremony was a display of graciousness from our hosts, a silent effort to honor the traditions of my people instead of their own. Our vows were usually given at dusk in a very small, brief ritual.
The aisle itself was relatively short, and the balconies empty—other than their lighted occupants—and while they were packed, the benches held far fewer guests than a standard royal high fae wedding would host. Their usual weddings were generally political affairs, celebrations of alliances between often warring kingdoms that lasted nearly a week in total. Multiple feasts, royal progressions through cities in both kingdoms, tournament battles, and grandiose shows of opulence. While a ceremony of this size was far larger than I would have chosen for myself, it was both a display of compromise on the fae’s behalf and a testament to how quickly this marriage had been arranged. I hoped Celeste wouldn’t be too disappointed in what she would surely see as a lack of ceremony for a day she might have looked forward to for years. My heart sank at the thought as I scanned the room.
The fae in the audience wore a veritable riot of colors. Every hue of the rainbow was represented in gossamer, flowing, hand-painted fabrics, and the fashions here aspired to emulate natural things like butterfly wings and flower petals. The wedding party’s attire, both my sister behind me and Celeste’s sister on the other side of the dais, and including my own suit, was jet black with a subtle iridescent shimmer—a choice that had clearly been another deliberate concession. A nod to our shadow magic and tendency toward darker or neutral clothing, but they hadn’t been able to resist thehintof flair. My family sat together wearing their traditional dark, formal clothing. No, this surely wasn’t what she would have expected of her wedding day.
Low notes drifted in from a stringed instrument, saving me from my spiraling thoughts. My grandmother took her cue to step up beside me. She was both our officiant and the obvious choice to perform the necessary ritual. Nervous butterflies erupted in my chest at the thought, an anxious reaction I was recently becoming well-acquainted with. I took a deep breath and released it slowly, only to have my lungs revolt as the doors at the end of the aisle opened wide. Every person in the room shuffled around in their seats to stare at Celeste where she stood in the open doorway. No one stood with her, the custom of being “given away” not one that was practiced here. The bride was to walk down the aisle of her own accord, proof that she came willingly and without coercion. I hoped.
My eyes immediately locked with hers, my heart exploding into a sprint in my chest. It was the first time I’d seen her eyes open, and I was struck by how the flickering candlelight shone in their lavender depths. She looked… better. Miraculously. Shockingly. Like maybe she wasn’t even the same person I’d watched in her sickbed only yesterday. Her wings and her antlers were gone, carefully tucked away wherever it was fae kept the body parts they weren’t using at the moment. Her skin was radiant and glowing, every trace of dehydration gone. Her wavy blonde hair was gathered artfully behind her head, the front strands twisted back so that they cradled the golden diadem that sat above her brow.
And her dress… My brain stopped functioning for a full two seconds while I processed it. A shimmering black gauze with a plunging neckline that ended just above her waist. I had to force myself to breathe. Thin ribbon straps held her gown on her shoulders and were connected to two long swathes of tulle that fell behind her in a cape. The translucent fabric of her bodice was gathered at her waist and fell in layers of cloud-like tulle around her feet. Radiant sun motifs were embroidered in gold-colored thread over the outer layer of the entire garment.
“Wow,” I heard my sister whisper from where she stood behind me.
At a standstill, Celeste looked like the confident queen she would have been raised to be, ready to greet her court. But I noticed her hands begin to tremble as she clutched them in front of herself, and as she took her first step, she seemed a little unsteady. My grandmother’s words from yesterday came back to me.“I’m sure they will prop her up with any number of healing draughts to get her through the ritual.”Her expression showed a flicker of uncertainty, and now that I was looking for it, I saw that her cheeks were still gaunt, her frame still unnaturally thin, even for a fae.
She broke eye contact with me, and her gaze darted through the crowd of upturned faces. As I watched, her expression flickered between cautiously hopeful to resigned to disappointed to… hurt? She lowered her eyes, trying to continue her furtive search of celebrants, obviously unable to find whatever, or whoever, she was searching for. Her steps were hesitant and slow, her breaths rapid. When she raised her eyes again, they were red-rimmed and poignant.
My heart was pounding as her eyes finally flashed to me and she gave me a watery smile. Her next step was an unsteady, faltering movement, and my hand twitched toward her involuntarily. By her own traditions she was supposed to walk the aisle by herself, but every precarious step had me nearly leaving my place to ensure she didn’t fall in front of all these people. By the time she reached the dais, I was unable to stop myself from reaching down to help her up the final two steps to the platform. A single tear fell from her eyes as she climbed the steps, its track leaving a mark down her cheek. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
She wasclearlyupset about the wedding—or marrying me. I hadn’t even thought of how trapped she might feel: marry an unknown reaper or die. I couldn’t breathe. Maybe she hadn’t even been aware she was to marry me until they’d woken her up this morning and she was still in shock at the idea. Maybe she didn’t want this at all. I had to know.
I bent close to her, keenly aware of the hundreds of eyes staring at us from the dozens of benches behind me, and spoke as quietly as I could. She shivered as my lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Is this what you want?”
Her expression was startled and horribly embarrassed, but she didn’t respond, simply stared at me in confusion.
I tried again, quiet as a breath. “You don’t have to do this,” I told her sincerely. “You can walk away right now if this isn’t what you want.” The thought that she might be standing here holding my hand unwillingly made my stomach churn.
But she tightened her fingers briefly on mine and her voice was quick this time as comprehension dawned. “No, I want this. Thank you.” Her whisper was strained, as if she hadn’t used her voice in a very long time. She flashed me a consolatory but still watery smile. I didn’t feel consoled.
Perhaps it wasn’t the marriage that she found objectionable, but the wedding ceremony itself. I glanced at the crowd. To any fae with knowledge of royal customs it would be obvious that this was a rushed affair. Maybe there were people she’d wanted to be here who couldn’t make it in time. Or maybe she’d dreamed of the entire elaborate week-long ceremony, something she clearly wouldn’t be able to withstand in her current health, even if her family had managed to cobble it together in time. Or her dress… I’d never seen a garment that stole my breath the way this had. Now that she stood next to me, I could see that the back was open all the way down to the curve of her rump and the cape stretched behind her in two separate strips, gathered at the tops and spreading out as they trailed below. But it was black, and maybe she had wanted something more colorful like the rest of her people.
I couldn’t change today, but I could give her whatever celebration she wanted once she was well.
She squeezed my hand again, and I found her to be a little more composed, her smile a little more encouraging, even if it didn’t reach her eyes. She turned toward my grandmother, so I followed her lead, hoping that she knew what she was doing. Maybe… maybe she just didn’t feel well. She didn’t release my hand, so I continued to hold it, grateful for this small connection to her in the face of her uncertainty.
My grandmother silently studied both of our faces before coming to some satisfactory conclusion and reaching to take each of our free hands. She spoke a blessing over us in one of our old languages, and then switched to the predominant language of the fae, delivering an opening to the ceremony and a bid to the Creator for his approval of our joining. And then, raising her voice so that even those in the farthest reaches of the room could hear her, began the opening words of the ritual, modified slightly with brief explanations for our hosts. “Thesoulsof all men, both mortal and immortal, are everlasting. They are a spark within us that does not grow old or wear out. They cannot be killed and do not fade away. Theypersistforever. So too, is the blood of my people, whom you callVeardur. Long ago when the ancients first walked the earth, we were set apart by the Creator in service of the souls of his beloved mortals, our lives for his purpose. As a benevolent concession for this submission to his desire, he acknowledged that a life of immortality presents a problem in selecting a mate. In response, he granted us a gift. Each of us carries in our blood the power to secure for ourselves asinglehelpmate, someone to walk beside us in our eternal duty, to make that which was mortal, immortal through our living vows. Through the gift of our blood this night, Princess Celeste will join us in supporting Victor in his duty to all mankind.”
She paused to take a breath before addressing my companion, her voice still raised to carry throughout the room. “Her Royal Highness Celeste Morningstar, Princess of the Dawn Court, Daughter of Her Excellency Crown Princess Aurora of the House of First Light, Granddaughter of Her Majesty Queen Danica of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, do you know who this is?” she asked, gesturing to me.
“Yes,” Celeste answered, her voice still hoarse. “He is Victor of House Molchanov.” The first time I’d heard my name on her lips.
“And do you take him to be your husband?”
“I do.” Her voice was still rough, but those two words possessed a confidence that loosened my lungs just the tiniest amount. Every muscle in my body was still strung as taut as a bowstring.
My grandmother looked to me. “Veardur,Victor of House Molchanov, son of Dmitri, son of Ratimir, son of Kallistrat, son of Malkh, do you know who this is?”
I swallowed thickly before answering. “Yes. She is Celeste of House Morningstar.”
My grandmother’s face took on a pleased softness that I was unused to seeing on her person. “And do you take her to be your wife?” she asked, with the smallest hint of a smile.
