by Cayla Kluver
“As you wish,” he said, not at all perturbed by the resentment I had expressed toward the King.
He bowed, but spoke one last time before departing. “I can appreciate the complexity of this decision, but I believe you have made a wise choice. Your love for your sister and your devotion to duty are quite apparent. You have my utmost respect.”
CHAPTER 33
WITH THIS RING
THE BETROTHAL CEREMONY WAS HELD THE following afternoon in the Royal Chapel. My father saw the necessity of moving with haste, due to the requirement that banns be published on three consecutive Sundays preceding the wedding day. The banns announced our betrothal, and asked for anyone who knew of a reason we should not be wed to come forward and confess it.
Our parents and Miranna were the only witnesses to the event. I wore the white gown that had been made for my seventeenth birthday, while Steldor wore his black military uniform. He and I had not talked ahead of time, and I felt more awkward than ever before in my life as I stood beside him in front of the gray-haired priest.
The ceremony itself was short, consisting of vows of intention and an exchange of rings. We joined our right hands, then the priest, in an insufferably nasal tone, asked Steldor, “Do you promise that you will take this woman to wife if the Holy Church consents?”
“Yes, I will,” Steldor answered.
The priest then directed the same question to me. “Do you promise that you will take this man as your husband if the Holy Church consents?”
“Yes, I will,” I stated woodenly, my heart hammering against my rib cage.
“Let this be a symbol of your pledge,” the clergyman intoned, pressing a ring into the palm of Steldor’s left hand.
Steldor removed his hand from mine and slid the golden band onto the third finger of my right hand. The priest repeated the ritual with me, and I rather clumsily slipped a golden band on the third finger of Steldor’s right hand.
After blessing us, the priest’s final words were, “You may now seal your promises with a kiss.”
Steldor stepped toward me, and, placing a hand under my chin, pressed his lips against mine.
Our parents stepped forward to congratulate us, then Cannan and my father proceeded in the direction of the Throne Room to discuss the marriage contract, and my mother, Miranna and Faramay retreated to the Queen’s Drawing Room to begin planning the wedding. As the priest moved into the prayer room, I was left alone with Steldor, who tossed me an impudent smile before sweeping me to him. He kissed me once more, only this time with greater insistence, and I found his passion almost frightening.
“A betrothal kiss should be a foretaste of things to come, don’t you think?” he murmured as our lips parted, and there was hunger in his dark eyes.
I pushed against his chest, but his powerful arms held me firmly in place.
“Make no mistake, Alera. You are the daughter I have always favored as my wife.”
He released me, but before I could respond, he took my hand and led me down the corridor to the Grand Entry.
“I shall call on you tonight for dinner,” he said. “A betrothed couple needs to spend time together, to get to know one another better before they are legally wed.”
He turned and left the palace, presumably headed for the Military Complex, and I wondered if he would be requiring me to dine with him from now on. Lamenting my loss of freedom, I climbed the Grand Staircase, fighting the impulse to disappear into the mountains as Narian had done.
I need not have worried about the amount of time I would be spending with Steldor during the six weeks that remained until our wedding. As the Cokyrians had maintained their encampments on the other side of the Recorah River, watching and waiting, Cannan countered with full troop deployments, which meant that Steldor and the other field commanders were deployed as well. On those few occasions when Steldor returned to the military base and seized the opportunity to dine with me, our meals were chaperoned by either his parents or mine, for the Church had strict rules governing the activities of betrothed couples.
My days also became busy. Even in times of peril such as those in which we lived, a royal wedding was an affair worthy of grand celebration, and our people needed a sign of hope. Invitations were inscribed and sent to all of the Hytanican nobility, the banns were prepared and published, a menu was established for the wedding feast, the entire palace was undergoing a thorough cleaning and the Royal Ballroom and King’s Dining Hall were being arranged and decorated. Unfortunately, given the Cokyrian threat, royalty from neighboring kingdoms would not be invited, as would normally have been protocol. Even had the invitations been sent, I believed fear of provoking Cokyri onto their own kingdoms would have prevented attendance by Gourhan, Emotana and Sarterad.
As my mother was in charge of the wedding preparations, the primary decision that fell to me was the design of my wedding gown. I called on my sister and mother for consultation, since they had more interest in fashion than did I. My sister and I had not talked since before my father had presented his ultimatum, and I wanted to know how she had come to agree to marry Steldor if I refused the union.
We met the seamstresses in the Queen’s Drawing Room, where bolts of fabric were displayed across the sofa and chairs. My head spun with the myriad possibilities, both in style and fabric, with which I was being presented. After a couple of hours, I looked pleadingly at my mother.
“Can’t we just keep it simple?”
She smiled at me and held out a beautiful piece of cream silk against which she had laid a sheer fabric in deep gold.
“This would be lovely, and the colors are rich, but simple.”
I nodded in agreement, glad that at least one decision had been made.
By the time the sun was setting, I felt like a pincushion. Fabric had been draped yon and hither across my body, but we had at last agreed on the basic design of my gown. We had also made choices of the fabric and style that would adorn Miranna.
It was getting late, at least by my mother’s standards, so she dismissed the seamstresses and retired to her quarters. My sister and I were now alone for the first time all day and a painful hush pervaded the room.
“I am not angry, Mira,” I said, gesturing to the sofa. “Stay with me another minute.”
Miranna looked at the door as if hoping to escape, then came to sit beside me, but she would not meet my eyes.
“Just tell me,” I prompted, taking her hands in mine. “How did Father prevail upon you to be my second for marrying Steldor?”
Receiving no reply, I tried another approach.
“I was under the impression that you fancied a different young man, one by the name of Temerson.”
I was gratified to see a small smile play at the corners of her mouth, only to disappear as regret crept onto her face.
“I’m not like you, Alera,” she said, raising her head to meet my gaze. “I can’t stand up to Father the way you can, and I have no strong opinions on most subjects. And I don’t feel the same as you about Steldor. I know he is not always a gentleman, but that is part of his charm. And I agree with Father that he would be a good king.” She again cast her eyes away from me. “As Father was insistent upon seeing Steldor take the throne, I thought this might give you an alternative if you really could not conceive of being his wife. I’m sorry if I made your circumstances worse.”
“You made the decision you thought was best, which is all any of us can do. I don’t want this to come between us. Besides, you may recall that I offered him to you at my birthday celebration last year—I can hardly blame you for taking me at my word.”
“You did, didn’t you?” she said, a smile at last brightening her face.
“Now, tell me about Temerson. I believe he would have been sorely disappointed if you had been the one to marry Steldor.”
“Yes, that was the one drawback to Father’s plan,” Miranna returned with a pretty blush, letting go of her nervousness and guilt.
We laughed together, and continued
talking comfortably for quite some time before retiring for the night.
After several more fittings, my wedding gown was finished, and the other preparations for the wedding were nearing completion as well. The final task that fell to me was the one I dreaded most. I was asked to choose a guest room on the third floor that would serve as my bridal chamber, although my mother would be the one to make it ready. After the wedding, as the coronation approached, my parents would vacate the King’s and Queen’s quarters so that Steldor and I could move into them, and rooms on the third floor would be renovated to suit their needs. My former quarters would remain vacant, in anticipation of an heir. As I did not really care which room was prepared for our wedding night, the only criterion I used in making my choice was that it be as far away as possible from the room in which Narian had lived.
On the last day of April, but ten short days before my birthday and the day of my wedding, my mother hosted another afternoon tea party at the palace for the young noblewomen in my age group. Unlike the other gatherings she hosted of this nature, my mother intended this one to be purely a social event rather than an opportunity to evaluate our manners, movement and posture, which essentially meant there would be more than ample time for gossip.
Miranna, Mother and I were met with a high level of chatter as we entered the first-floor dining room, the noise reflecting the upbeat mood of the young women in attendance. As we began to greet our guests, the banter ceased and I felt as though all eyes were now riveted on me, confirming that I had moments before been the prime topic of discussion. Indeed, my nosiest friends soon clustered around me, curious about the plans for my wedding, as I would be the first among us to marry. After garnering as many details as I was willing to disclose, their conversation degenerated into a review of Steldor’s charms, and I realized anew that I was the only girl in the group who did not aspire to be his wife. Deciding that my infatuated friends could explore this subject without me, I glanced around for my mother, intending to join her. I was about to move in her direction when Reveina’s voice stopped me cold.
“If it were me, I would be most excited about the wedding night,” she was saying, her brown eyes misty. “Lord Steldor once kissed me, and his very touch made me weak in the knees, and now Alera will have him all to herself.”
Heads bobbed, as the other girls enthusiastically agreed.
“And he no doubt has experience with other women,” Reveina continued, brushing back her dark hair. “I have been told that is desirable in a husband, as he will know how to make things comfortable for his bride.”
Several of the girls giggled and blushed at her brazen remark, but I said nothing. It had not even crossed my mind prior to this moment that Steldor might have had intimate relations with other women, and this information substantially increased my anxiety.
“And what has become of Lord Narian?” Kalem, generally the romantic among us, asked. “He is quite handsome as well, and after what happened at the tournament last fall, I was hoping to meet him.”
The other girls joined in assent.
“The skill he showed during the exhibition was astounding!” announced blond-haired Noralee, her eyes wide, reflecting her customary level of shock.
“Handsome, strong…and mysterious. Definitely a good second choice!” agreed Kalem. Then she looked sullenly at me, her light gray eyes shielded by her dark lashes. “Rumor has it that he showed quite an interest in you for a while. Really, Alera, you cannot have both of the most intriguing men in the kingdom!”
“If he had not left, and you had been permitted to choose between them, who would you have favored?” queried Reveina.
Everyone fell silent as they awaited my answer. I scrambled for a response, feeling self-conscious and ambushed. I was thankfully saved from further embarrassment by Miranna, who joined the circle and spoke up on my behalf.
“Narian is the brother of my best friend, so naturally Alera and I have become acquainted with him, but that’s all there is to it.”
Glancing appreciatively at my sister, I added, “And he departed because he missed the mountains and wanted to spend some time there.”
Before the other girls could press the matter further, Miranna ended the conversation.
“Come, Sister. Mother is preparing to take her seat and wishes us to join her.” She took my hand and led me away, saying cheerily to our friends, “You should also find your places. This is probably your last chance to practice your manners before the wedding.”
I walked by Miranna’s side, my mood subdued. My friends’ comments had brought all of my fears to the forefront. Where was Narian? Why had he left? And what would Steldor expect from his bride? I knew, even if Steldor did not, that I no longer had a heart to give, for Narian had taken it with him. I sat in silence through the serving of the tea, planning to depart as soon as I reasonably could, for the agony of Narian’s disappearance had resurfaced. The emptiness inside was like physical pain, and I wanted to run from it, but there was no escape other than in sleep. I felt as though I lived in a netherworld, where I could neither reclaim the past nor embrace the future, but was condemned to struggle through each day.
It rained the night before my wedding, which my mother told me was a good omen as it washed away past hurts and insults and permitted a fresh beginning. The morning of the wedding did indeed dawn fresh and clear, with the promise of a warm afternoon.
My mother sent a special wedding breakfast to my quarters, but I only picked at the food, too nauseous to eat. I next bathed in scented water and permitted Sahdienne to brush out my long hair.
Miranna, as my attendant, helped me into my wedding attire in the early afternoon. My gown was made of the fabric my mother had selected, cream silk with a sheer overlay of gold falling from just below the bustline. The rounded neckline led to ruched sleeves, and the bodice was overstitched in gold thread. A sheer gold cape swept the floor and was attached at my shoulders so that it elegantly draped to reveal the gold lacing that ran all the way up the gown’s back. Upon my head I wore a simple gold band with three jewels set evenly across its front: sapphire for purity, emerald for hope and red jasper for love. My hair was swept up and over the back of the band into a loose bun and tied with gold ribbon. A simple gold cross adorned my neck. I would carry in my left hand a small bouquet of flowers interspersed with herbs that were believed to bring good fortune.
The wedding was to take place in the Royal Ballroom, followed by a feast in the King’s Dining Hall, then a return to the ballroom for dancing and socializing. My parents would escort me to the ceremony, and as the time for the service grew nigh, I waited for them in my quarters with ever-increasing dread.
The music of minstrels, as well as the sounds of laughter and the clapping of hands, told me that Steldor was arriving. I could see the Central Courtyard through my open balcony doors and watched as he rode through the gates on his magnificent gray stallion, a footman treading off to one side. This was the only time I had ever seen a horse permitted within the palace grounds, and my perception that nothing was as it should be grew even stronger.
Steldor rode half the distance down the path that lay between the flowering lilac hedges, then dismounted, handing his reins to the footman and turning to wave at the crowd that had followed him through the city streets. The people would continue to gather in anticipation of the ceremony, and after our vows had been exchanged, the head of each family would be permitted to enter the courtyard to receive two gold coins symbolizing our union.
Glancing again toward the gates, I saw Cannan and Faramay step out of a carriage and begin to walk slowly up the white stone pathway. Other relatives and guests also arrived, parading in their wedding finery toward the open front doors of the palace. Unlike me, who lacked uncles, aunts and cousins, my father’s only brother having died in the war and my mother’s entire family likewise having perished, Steldor had a large extended family, with nine uncles and aunts, and seventeen cousins.
I stepped away from the balcony
, so panicky I could scarcely breathe. Miranna crossed to me and held out a small glass of wine.
“Mother thought this might help calm you.”
I took a sip and handed it back to her.
“Would you like to sit for a moment?” she asked. I shook my head and closed my eyes, willing my breathing to slow.
“You look stunning,” she continued, attempting to sound reassuring.
“You are breathtaking as well,” I replied, opening my eyes to examine her.
There was a knock on the door and my mother glided into my bedroom, wearing a royal-blue gown stitched with gold. Her beautiful blond hair was coiffed and topped with the official crown of the Queen, a circlet set with diamonds and adorned by a single cross in front that displayed five jewels, one each of sapphire, emerald, ruby and amethyst, with a diamond in the center.
“I wanted to check on you, Alera, before your father joins us.” She gave me an airy embrace, then her serene blue eyes assessed me. “All brides are nervous on their wedding day, but you are marrying an exceptional young man, and everything will go smoothly.”
“I’m fine, Mother,” I assured her, although I did not feel fine at all. I felt like the condemned facing the gallows. But even had I confided my feelings to my mother, she would not have understood; her own marriage had been arranged, and she always carried out her duties without complaint. I would only disappoint her by voicing my upset.
“The guests have arrived, as has the groom, and all is now ready. Is there anything you need before the ceremony begins?”
“No, I’m fine,” I repeated, but the cracking of my voice argued otherwise.
“Then let us move into the parlor to await your father.”
It wasn’t long before a rap on the door told me the King had arrived, and he entered, attired in his royal-blue robes, the crown of the sovereign with its four bejeweled crosses upon his gray-flecked hair. He beamed with joy as he crossed to me and kissed my cheek.