Legacy

  “You are a vision, my dear. Are you ready to meet your groom?”

  I nodded, cynically thinking it would be more apt to say I was going to meet my doom, and we left my parlor to walk down the corridor toward the ballroom. When we arrived, we stopped just outside the doorway, and my mother stood to my left, my father to my right, their arms entwined in mine. A carpet of gold stretched before us, creating a path to the altar on the far side of the room. We would walk halfway into the ballroom along the near wall, then turn left, Miranna following behind as my attendant.

  “Shall we?” asked my father, and I took a deep breath.

  We moved forward at a measured pace, then turned and stopped, and I wasn’t certain I had the strength to make the long walk from where we now stood to the canopy and altar. The wedding guests who overflowed the benches to my left and right did nothing to calm me.

  Steldor stood about halfway down the aisle, facing me, looking handsome in an embossed black leather jacket with extended shoulders, the sleeves and peplum of which were in deep green velvet. He wore his tall black boots over black breeches, and his ruby-studded sword hung at his left hip, the dagger I had given him for his birthday at his right.

  Faramay, stunning in a shimmering light green gown, stood to Steldor’s left, while Cannan, clad in a dress coat of deep green velvet with gold embroidery, stood to his right. Despite my frame of mind, it came to me that this was the first time I had seen the captain in anything other than military garb. Galen, his wavy ash-brown hair freshly trimmed, stood just behind the three of them, wearing a well-cut black dress coat.

  As trumpets sounded, our wedding guests rose to their feet, and my parents and I walked forward until my father and Faramay stood side by side. The aged priest advanced from his position in front of the altar to meet us so he could ask the necessary questions to establish that Steldor and I could lawfully be joined in matrimony.

  “Do you know of any impediment why you may not be lawfully joined?” the priest said, the nasal quality of his voice somehow befitting my nausea.

  “No,” Steldor and I murmured.

  “Are you of legal age to marry?”

  “Yes,” we both replied.

  “Whose blessings accompany you?”

  Our parents together answered, “The blessings of their entire families.”

  At this point, Faramay took a step back and moved to Cannan’s right. My father removed my arm from his and rested my hand upon Steldor’s, then withdrew to stand beside my mother.

  “Have the banns been published?” droned the priest.

  “Yes, on three consecutive Sundays,” Steldor answered.

  The priest then asked the final, and perhaps most important, question. “Do you come of your own free will and accord to be joined in marriage?”

  I glanced at Steldor, who had tensed almost imperceptibly.

  “Yes, I come of my own free will,” I stated. Steldor repeated the same, and I felt him relax, as though he had expected a different answer from me.

  The priest then arduously approached the altar. Steldor and I came next, followed by our parents, with Miranna and Galen bringing up the rear. As we reached the front, my parents moved to the left to sit in the thrones provided for them, while Cannan and Faramay went right to sit in large padded armchairs. Miranna came to stand next to me, and I handed her my bouquet, while Galen took his place beside Steldor.

  The priest joined my right hand with my betrothed’s, and we turned to face one another as the exchange of vows began.

  “Do you take this woman as your wife?” the priest inquired.

  “I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband,” Steldor said, gazing into my eyes. “And I commit to you the fidelity of my body, and I will keep you in health and sickness, nor for better or worse will I change toward you until the end.” His voice was strong, for he suffered from no indecision.

  The priest then addressed me. “Do you take this man as your husband?”

  I looked down and took a deep breath, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I wasn’t certain I’d be able to hear my own voice. Then I forced myself to meet Steldor’s eyes.

  “I receive you as mine, so that you become my husband and I your wife,” I said with a slight quaver. “And I commit to you the fidelity of my body, and I will keep you in health and sickness, nor for better or worse will I change toward you until the end.”

  A smile flitted across Steldor’s face as I finished, and we turned toward the priest, who took the marriage ring from Galen. After blessing it, he handed it to Steldor.

  Removing his right hand from mine, Steldor raised my left, palm downward, and partially slid the ring first on my thumb, then on my index finger, my middle finger, and my third finger, where it finally came to rest. With each placement of the ring, he made a pledge.

  “With this ring I thee wed, this gold I thee give, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

  We turned to kneel on the padded step before the priest and shared our first communion as husband and wife. After placing a veil over us to signify our union, the priest blessed us, and we rose to our feet. Steldor removed the veil, then turned to me and untied the ribbon that held my hair in its bun, letting my dark tresses cascade down my back to signify his dominion over me. His fingers skimmed my shoulders and he pulled me into his embrace, kissing me deeply.

  A cheer went up from our guests, and Steldor and I walked briskly back down the aisle, into the corridor, and over to the King’s Dining Hall, where we began to receive congratulations from our friends and family. I was glad to have the ceremony behind me, but fear clutched at my heart, for I had no idea what marriage to Steldor held in store.

  CHAPTER 34

  WISHES

  AFTER THE KING AND QUEEN MOVED TO THE high table that was set for our newly united families, Steldor and I followed, and the rest of the assembled guests found seating as well. We waited for a blessing from the priest, and then the meal began. The wedding feast was served in several courses, beginning with soup, bread flavored with ale, and an assortment of cheeses, to be followed by tortes filled with spicy veal and dates. Next came stuffed roast suckling pig, smoked fish, mutton and all manner of roast birds, served with stewed cabbage. Fruit custard in a pie followed, along with spicy mulled wine. Rose-scented water was provided to the guests so that they could cleanse their hands between courses, and all was washed down with wine and ale. Throughout the meal, musicians performed, joined by acrobats, jugglers and singers as the tables were cleared.

  At the conclusion of the feast, Steldor stood and guided me to my feet. He took my hand and led me toward a round table that held a platter upon which our guests had been stacking the small cakes they had brought as gifts. With more than six hundred guests in attendance, the stack of cakes had grown several feet high. Tradition called for us to try to kiss over the top of the stack without toppling the cakes in order to be granted luck and prosperity.

  Steldor removed my gown’s cape from the clips at my shoulders as he evaluated the task. He had an advantage as he stood four inches taller than me, but even he could not possibly lean over the cakes. We looked quizzically at each other, and then he called for benches. As Galen steadied Steldor’s bench and Miranna, assisted by Temerson, steadied mine, we stepped onto the seats and eyed each other over the tops of the cakes. Steldor rubbed his hands together, then held them out to me, and I reached out to join mine with his. Supporting each other, we leaned forward, trying to keep a bend in our waists so as not to nudge the stack of pastries. Our heads came together and our lips briefly touched as laughter and cheering erupted around us, but we recognized at about the same time that I was not strong enough to push myself away and back into a standing position. With a nod of his head to his right, Steldor indicated to me the direction in which he wanted us to fall. Pushing off each other’s hands, we swayed to the right, Steldor pulling me to the side as he jumped off his bench. Somehow, he managed t
o catch me before I hit the floor, and although the stack swayed precariously, it stayed upright. I laughed along with our jubilant guests, enjoying myself for the first time all day. As Steldor set me back upon my feet, a grin brightened his features and he drew me into a firm embrace.

  “Well done!” he exclaimed, his eyes alight, and I found myself returning his smile.

  Again taking me by the hand, Steldor led me through the crowd so that we could return to the ballroom for dancing and additional entertainment. By this time, the benches had been repositioned along the perimeter of the room, the altar and other items related to the wedding ceremony had been removed, and refreshment tables had been set against the near wall.

  As Steldor led me onto the dance floor, he reminded me of our last attempt at dancing.

  “Remember, I’m the one who is supposed to lead.”

  I tried to relax in his arms, for I knew he was an excellent dancer, and as I did so, our movements became smooth and lithe. After a few turns around the floor, he gazed down at me, an amorous glow in the depths of his eyes.

  “I trust this is a sign of submission in other ways, as well,” he murmured, and I was instantly wary of his meaning.

  After a second dance, I felt the need for a break, and Steldor left my side to retrieve glasses of wine. London chose to confer with me in my husband’s absence, approaching me with a melancholy smile.

  “I hope you will find happiness,” he wished me. “I will miss your company, for my duties will no longer place me within the palace.”

  This had not occurred to me, and I found it quite upsetting.

  “But we will remain friends, won’t we?”

  “Of course,” he vowed, but his voice lacked conviction. “I thought you might be interested to know that I am leaving tomorrow to hunt for Narian in the mountains. If I find him, I will bring him back to Hytanica. Cannan believes he could be just as useful to us as to the enemy.”

  Steldor returned and handed me a glass of wine, looking askance at London, who bowed and departed. I had no time to reflect on London’s words as guests continued to approach, wishing us health and happiness.

  When the group of well-wishers finally began to dwindle, Lord Baelic, Steldor’s uncle and Cannan’s younger brother, approached. While I knew Lord Baelic’s wife, Lady Lania, and his oldest daughters Lady Dahnath and Lady Shaselle from my mother’s tea parties, I had never before met him. I knew little about him other than that he held the rank of major and was the cavalry officer at the Military Complex.

  Baelic was slightly shorter than his brother and his nephew, but otherwise bore a remarkable resemblance to Cannan, with hair so dark it was almost black, dark brown eyes, a chiseled jawline and a muscular build. It did not take me long, however, to discover a glaring difference between the brothers, for Baelic was as smiley as Cannan was grave.

  After Steldor made the introductions, Baelic kissed my hand.

  “Congratulations, Lord Steldor. Princess Alera, my sympathies.”

  Ignoring Steldor’s groan of complaint, his uncle continued, looking playfully into my eyes.

  “If you’re ever in need of something you can hold over his head, come talk to me. I know everything about him that he would prefer to keep from his father.” He glanced merrily at Steldor, then finished, “And that’s my wedding gift to you.”

  “Is it impolite to refuse a gift?” Steldor retorted.

  “It depends on the gift,” Baelic countered with a crooked smile. “Surely you wouldn’t turn down one as high in quality as this.”

  Before Steldor could answer, I made my opinion known. “I have no intention of turning it down.”

  “I like her more every moment,” Baelic said. “I still can’t figure out what she’s doing with you.”

  I almost laughed out loud at Baelic’s willingness to needle his nephew, and was drawn to his light and engaging manner.

  Steldor contemplated his uncle for a moment, the corners of his mouth pulling upward in amusement.

  “She settled for a twenty-one-year-old charmer when she found that all the old fools were taken,” he parried.

  “You cut me to the bone, dear nephew.”

  “Then I shall make up for it by hiring you as my jester, dear uncle.”

  With a chuckle and another deep bow, Baelic said to me, “It was a pleasure meeting you. I shall leave my incorrigible nephew in your care, and I heartily wish you the best of luck.”

  He slapped Steldor on the shoulder and departed, leaving no doubt in my mind as to from whom my husband had inherited his innate charm.

  As soon as Baelic had left us, my father drew Steldor away from me. Feeling awkward, I cast about for my sister, but instead saw Galen walking in my direction. I presumed he was coming to talk to his best friend, so was at a loss when he strode over to me instead.

  “May I have the pleasure of a dance?” he inquired, with a courteous bow.

  I examined him skeptically for a moment before rebuffing him. “I would prefer to watch the other couples.”

  Although I did not know him well, I assumed from my brief encounters with him that he was not likely to win my favor.

  He considered me carefully before responding. “No, you don’t care to dance with anyone, or no, you don’t care to dance with me?” He sounded curious, no trace of offense in his tone.

  Knowing that the truth would come across as rude, I started to tell a lie, but he put two fingers against my lips.

  “Your hesitation speaks volumes, so I assume you would also be unwilling to keep company with me.” He inclined his head, smiling ruefully. “I will leave you in peace, My Lady.”

  Stung by guilt for refusing his request, I reached out my hand and caught his arm as he turned to walk away.

  “Please. A dance would be welcome after all.”

  “It will be my honor,” he said, and he escorted me onto the dance floor.

  I discovered that, like Steldor, Galen was an excellent dancer, and I moved elegantly in his arms as he guided me among the other couples.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he remarked as the song ended and he led me from the floor.

  “Actually, it was quite pleasant.”

  I glanced over toward Steldor, who was now bantering with Barid, Devant and others of his military friends. I sighed, having no desire to mingle with that particular group, and not trusting that I would be welcome in any case.

  “I would be happy to provide you companionship until someone more to your liking comes along,” Galen declared, taking note of my dilemma.

  I paused, unsure how to interpret his comment, but then smiled, for there was a twinkle in his soft brown eyes and a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Your company is to my liking, sir,” I told him.

  We did not, however, have further time to converse, for a group of young women was moving toward us, clearly of a mind to speak with me.

  “As I am generally not that popular with the ladies,” Galen teased, “and as my sisters are among the throng, I will leave you in their hands.”

  He bowed and departed, moving to join Steldor before my friends could swarm around me.

  It wasn’t long before I tired of the group’s conversation, for they were obsessed with comparing the marriage potential of the remaining eligible men of noble birth. Seeing my mother, I excused myself and went to her, weariness seeping through me. She was standing with Faramay, Lady Hauna, who was Galen’s mother and Tiersia, who had once again come as Galen’s date.

  As I talked with the women, I saw Steldor’s eyes flit in my direction several times. The evening was growing late, as evidenced by the platters of food that servants were now bringing to the refreshment tables so that our guests might acquire the fortitude to celebrate until morning.

  Breaking from his friends, Steldor advanced on me. He bowed to the Queen and kissed his mother dutifully on the cheek, then slid an arm around my waist.

  “I think my wife is exhausted from the festivities and that we should perha
ps retire for the night.”

  A chill swept over me at the thought of what was to come, and the nausea that had dissipated in the aftermath of the ceremony returned.

  With his arm encircling my waist, he drew me with him to receive permission from the King for us to leave, then also bade good-night to his father.

  I climbed the front stairway to the third floor with Steldor, trailing the elderly priest who had yet to bless the bridal chamber, feeling as though each slow and methodical step added a nail to my coffin. As we approached the room I had selected, Steldor guided me away from it, further down the hallway. We then approached the room that had most recently been Narian’s. The priest and Steldor entered, but I hovered in the doorway, confused and dismayed.

  “This will serve us better,” Steldor said, taking my hand. Then he chastised me in a low voice, “I will tolerate no ghosts in my home.”

  I entered the room, feeling nervous and humiliated, since Steldor had surmised that I did not want to intrude upon this space. I stopped a few feet over the threshold and surveyed my prison. The room had, of course, been refurbished by my mother in preparation for this night. Across from us was a large four-poster bed topped with a golden spread and numerous pillows. Rose petals strewn across its surface added a subtle fragrance. A small table adjacent to the bed held a lantern along with a jug of wine and two goblets. A large fireplace took up most of the wall to our left, but no fire had been kindled as the day had been quite warm, and a sofa and several chairs were grouped about the hearth. The flower-filled urns from the wedding had been brought up to the room and lined the wall to our right, adding a heady scent to the air.

  The priest moved to the side of the bed and beckoned for Steldor and me to come to him. I stood in embarrassment at my husband’s side as the clergyman blessed us and our wedding bed in order to ensure good fortune and fertility. The ceremony completed, I showed him to the door into the corridor.

  After the priest’s departure, I stood in the center of the room, eyeing Steldor, painfully aware that I now belonged to him, and that no one would interfere should he choose to assert his rights as a husband. He perused me as he tossed his leather jacket on one of the chairs and unlaced his white shirt, and I could see his silver wolf’s head talisman lying against his sturdy chest. He came to me and unceremoniously kissed me, placing his hands on the sides of my face. As his now-familiar scent washed over me, he ran his hands down my body until they rested upon my hips. I stiffened at his touch, and he stepped back from me.