by S E Wendel
The door banged open, and Ennis jumped as a man came striding in.
“No, no, don’t mind me, just here to…” Waurin stared at them, and they stared right back. An insufferably smug grin swept over Waurin’s face, making Ennis blush. “Ah. I can come back sometime it’s more convenient.”
“I can’t,” said someone behind him, trying to push their way forward.
A young woman sidestepped Waurin into the hall. Essa Courtnay glowed in the firelight, resplendent and wholly pleased with herself over the surprise. She put her hands on her hips and smiled with eyes only for her sister when she said, “Are you going to gawk at me from all the way over there, or can I embrace my sister?”
Ennis sprang up and rushed to Essa. They caught each other in their arms, a joyous cacophony of tears and greetings and golden hair.
Waurin and Manek smiled warmly to see it.
Giving the sisters a moment, Waurin strode over to Manek, who rose from his chair. They clasped hands and clapped shoulders. Manek wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so relieved to see Waurin and said as much.
“Don’t stop there,” Waurin said with a laugh. “I do like hearing my praises sung.”
Manek snorted, but if it were possible, he only grew fonder of Waurin. “How’d you come?”
“By sea,” Waurin said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So our dear Lord Midland should be none the wiser. We laid anchor a quarter league downriver.”
“How many could you bring?”
Waurin’s grin grew smug again. “Eight hundred. Stopped at every coastal village from here to Carmetheon.”
His whole body fairly thrummed. He’d not only the reinforcements, the numbers his captains had so worried about, but even better—Larn knew nothing of them. Which meant that Manek wouldn’t have to play all the cards in his hand when they marched tomorrow.
“But Manek, I must tell you—we’d a hell of a time getting up the mouth of the Morroley.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’m sure Rick gave you a proper welcome.”
“That he did. We tried the southern fork, but it was too shallow—had to go back and fight our way up the north fork, else we would’ve been here days ago. We gave them hell, but I doubt they’ll spend long licking their wounds. I suspect they’ll be here themselves soon enough; they know where we were headed.”
Manek scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking. He wouldn’t let himself lose hope; Waurin here, now, was a true blessing and he wouldn’t waste it with worry. All he could do was use the resources available. And pray that Ceralia brought rain to swell the current of the Morroley for a few days.
Ennis cleared her throat, and Manek and Waurin looked over at the sisters. Their arms were linked, and Ennis had donned a cloak. He noted how the light in her eyes had dimmed, and he knew where they were going without her having to say, “We’ll be back soon. I’m taking Essa to the Haven.”
Manek nodded and the women left. Waurin quirked an eyebrow in question, and Manek quickly explained the day’s events.
When he finished, Waurin sighed, making his barrel of a chest expand even wider. “Damn,” he said, scuffing his boot along the floor. “Can’t imagine what she did to survive this long.”
Manek distracted himself from Ennis and what she and her sister must be doing by going over with Waurin the plans that’d been lain that evening.
“And how do we factor in?” Waurin asked.
“We’ll have the best advantage if we keep your presence secret as long as possible. Before dawn, you and five hundred of your men will go into the forest.” He was sure Larn had put scouts out there to hunt and bring wood, but he had faith Waurin’s men could deal with them well enough. “I’m still riding out. Once we’ve taken the center, you’ll come with your troops from the forest and take his right flank. With a little luck, we can force them to the river.”
“Is a reserve staying in Rising?”
“It’s made up of mostly women right now, but I think we can spare a hundred troops now. Especially since Rick might come calling.”
“Who’s in charge of them?”
“Ennis.”
Manek decided to ignore the smug look Waurin shot him.
“I saw that Essa’s been freed,” Manek said.
At that Waurin flushed, his gaze dropping to his boots. He cleared his throat, and Manek couldn’t help being amused at his bear of a friend blushing over a young woman half his size.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I saw that Ennis was too.”
“I’m marrying her tomorrow. Stand with me?”
Waurin’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, but he laughed heartily and slapped Manek’s shoulder. “Holy hell! Who’d have thought?”
“What? That I’d get married or that I’d ask you to stand with me?”
“Either.”
They shared a long laugh at that, though Manek couldn’t help noticing Waurin said nothing, didn’t even allude to such a union with Essa. He knew that if Waurin didn’t bring the subject up himself, the time wasn’t right to speak of it. But he also knew, after spending the better part of a year on campaign with Waurin, that he thought of little else other than Essa.
Kierum soon returned to the hall, and after sharing the good news with his father, both about the reinforcements and marrying Ennis in the morning, they spent the next hour poring over Manek’s map.
“Do we know for certain how far away Verian is?” Waurin asked.
Manek tugged a hand through his hair. “At most three days. Which is why we’ll march as soon as we’re able tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t think marriage is so frightening that a man must run headlong into battle straight after,” Waurin said. “At least I hope not.”
Manek scoffed and Kierum watched their jesting with fondness.
“Your mother will be pleased,” Kierum said.
“Can you oversee it?” Manek asked.
Kierum waved his hand. “Of course. Let your mother and me see to everything. Now, I’d best go tell her. You know how she is about getting news with all possible speed.”
Kierum then said his farewells for the night and mounted the stairs.
“Is he riding out with you tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Manek said. “He wouldn’t hear of staying behind. I think he feels this’s his last chance to…”
Waurin rested his hand on Manek’s shoulder and squeezed. Manek told himself to be content—he’d had his father far longer than most; his father would even be there to see him married. He wouldn’t keep Kierum from the death his father thought he should have; since his leg was mangled, Kierum wasn’t quite the man, the warlord Manek remembered. In some small way, dying on the battlefield would be a way to redeem himself for not perishing with his men, much as it wasn’t his fault. Still, while he wished his father content, no part of him wanted to send Kierum to Mithria. Not yet.
Manek was stoking the fire when Ennis and Essa returned. He was a little surprised to see them, thinking they might stay with their sister at the Haven or even with Lora in her cottage. Still, as their eyes met across the table, he was relieved to see her.
Waurin cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll be off to see to my men. I’ll have them marching into the forest in an hour so they’ll be in position. But don’t you worry—I wouldn’t miss it tomorrow.”
Ennis turned to Essa and asked, “Should I make a room up for you?”
“No, that’s all right,” Essa said. “We’ve been at sea so long I’m honestly a little wobbly on land. But I’ll be back in the morning. I intend to do your hair.” Ennis grimaced playfully, and Essa stuck her tongue out. “Don’t you dare hide all the combs.”
After a long moment in her sister’s arms, Essa took the arm Waurin offered her and disappeared with him back out into the night. Manek thought their maneuvering a little unpolished, but if it meant Ennis was his for the night, he wasn’t going to complain.
The sleeves of her dress were crinkled and rumpled, as if she�
�d rolled them up. Dirt lined her fingernails, and though she smiled at him, it lacked a full spark.
“Well,” she said as she drew near, “is seems everyone else has made themselves scarce.”
“Very subtly, too.”
Ennis rolled her eyes. But as she stood before him at the hearth, half her face gleaming in the fire’s glow and the other cast in flickering shadows, her mouth came to rest in a solemn line.
“One thing,” she said, “and then I want a proper wedding night—one without mention or care of Larn.”
“I can do that.”
“He dies tomorrow. For Adena. For Anneka. Let it be done tomorrow. And Manek…” She wrapped her hands around either side of his neck and held his gaze as she told him, “Once he’s dead, leave him for the crows. He doesn’t deserve to be with Mithria.”
It was no small thing for a soul to be denied last rites and therefore peace with Mithria. To doom them to forever walk the earth a wraith. But then, peace wasn’t something Manek thought Larn worthy of.
“I promise,” he said.
Her gaze was steady as she looked up at him, the light from the fire turning her eyes the dusky blue of the sky just before sunset. Those eyes held such intelligence and wit, such mirth. They hardened and softened with just a flick, shifting between blues with her mood. He wished there was time enough to study her eyes, her lips, her face as he wanted to. Wished there were days, years to do it.
“Good.” Her eyes began to dance then, a slow play of light rising from within her that reached out and filled him too.
She took him by the hand and led him to the stairs, led him to the room that was his but could be theirs. He let her lead him to bed too, to a place that already was theirs, a place where tomorrow was an idea and today was a gift.
Fifty-Four
Themin wed Ceralia on his Seat far to the south in the Emerald Sea. The stars blessed their union and declared them King and Queen of Heaven, Father and Mother of the World. They pledged their love, their hearts, and exchanged tokens as proof. From moonbeams Ceralia fashioned a crown for Themin that rivaled even the stars’ shimmer. From the sunset Themin made Ceralia a mantle that was almost as lovely as she. And together, they vowed, “You are all that I am; you are where I begin, and where I end.”
—When the Sky King Wed
Ennis woke to the pale gold of dawn. Light shafted in through the window, fractals of dust shimmering like daytime stars. For a moment, she was loath to be awake. The horrors of yesterday, Adena’s wasted body, Larn’s four-fingered hand, were fresh in her mind.
But as she shifted slightly, she felt the solid, comforting weight of Manek’s arm draped over her waist, his fingers and his legs tangled with hers. And then she remembered other things. That yesterday had brought joy too. And today, today she would marry him.
When she turned slowly to look at Manek, she found him asleep. She greedily claimed those few stolen moments to look at him at rest, something she’d never seen before. She’d been too scared, too ready to flee the last time she woke in his arms and never took the time to see the beauty of him.
His dark hair, delightfully mussed, curled at the tips, especially behind the ears and at the nape of his neck. His brow, usually firmly set, even stern, was at ease, softly angled over dark eyelashes that lay gently against his cheekbones. At rest like this, there was a small dimple just left of his mouth. Easing forward, she kissed it, his stubble rasping against her lips.
She breathed him in, savoring the spicy male musk of him, and told herself to memorize all his lines, all the planes and curves and colors, just in case…just in case…
No. Damn Larn. It was her wedding day.
Manek slept still, and Ennis didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to make him face today just yet. So she slipped quietly from the warmth of the bed and his arms and, shivering, began to dress as best she could without help.
When she sat to pull on a boot, she heard a soft groan behind her.
“You’re making a habit of sneaking off in the morning,” Manek said groggily.
She smiled despite herself. “I’ll not apologize for being up and excited for my own wedding day.”
He sighed, and one of his arms snaked around her middle, pulling her back into bed.
“We do have to get ready sometime today,” she reminded him.
He groaned again and pulled her further into the bed. “The sun isn’t even up.”
Giving in, she eased back down beside him, turning her face into his hair. “You’re impossible,” she muttered and felt him grin against her neck.
“Grant me a dying wish.”
She started to sit up. “If you’re going to be morbid—”
He held her fast. “You’re impossible,” he said with an impish frown. But after a moment a shadow fell over his eyes and he released her.
She watched, uneasiness gripping her stomach, as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. When he straightened from gathering up his abandoned breeches, Ennis crawled across the bed and wrapped her arms about his neck, kissing the hollow between his shoulder blades.
“What wish?” she said.
He took a long breath, eyes straight ahead, avoiding hers.
“Manek.” She rested her chin on his shoulder.
“While I was at Dannawey,” he said finally, “when I could sleep, I sometimes dreamed.”
“Of what?”
“Of you. I wondered what it’d be like to wake up beside you. It…kept me going.”
Her arms tightened around him. “I’ll happily grant your wish. You just have to live today.”
“Just that.”
She tried her best to smile but couldn’t quite manage it—so she kissed him instead. He turned in her arms, his hands tracing her hip and waist and drawing her into the solid warmth of his body. When his tongue grazed her lips, seeking her own, she did smile.
“No, you’re impossible,” she said into his ear as he pushed her down onto the bed, his body warm and heavy on hers.
He’d soundly undone all the dressing she’d so carefully and quietly accomplished when a soft knock rasped against the bedroom door. She opened her mouth to answer, but he quickly covered it with his, tasting of urgency.
“Ennis?” she heard Essa say from the other side. “Are you awake?”
“Are we awake?”
“No.”
“No!” she called.
“Will you be awake soon?” Ennis could hear the smile in Essa’s voice. “Lora and a woman named Kenna are here for you.”
“Tell them I’ll be down in five—”
“Ten,” he said from the hollow of her throat.
“—ten minutes.”
Essa’s footsteps retreated back down the hallway, and Ennis swore she could hear her chuckling under her breath.
When she came down twenty minutes later, she did indeed find Lora and Kenna waiting for her in the hall, already full of people. Kenna wore a conspiratorially wicked smile as Ennis crossed to her, eyes on the enormous bundle lying at Kenna’s feet.
“There you are,” Essa said, weaving through the crowd. “We should discuss the difference between ten and twenty.” For her part, Essa looked fearsome, like Tamea herself. Her golden hair had been scraped back from her face and braided into a tight plait. A hard leather jerkin sat above the blue dress she wore, and leather gauntlets covered her forearms.
“Essa, my love, you know I’ve a very firm grasp of numbers.”
“That doesn’t—”
Ennis held up her hand. “I’ll not be argued with. It’s my wedding day.”
Lora rolled her eyes. “And how many times will you be reminding us today?”
“She’s likely to tell the Midland whoresons outside it’s her wedding day.”
Chalking Essa’s suddenly colorful tongue up to a year with sailors, she replied with a serene smile, “If I thought it’d stop them from attacking, indeed, I’d tell them.”
Essa shook her head, but her eyes were
bright with glee.
Quick movement caught Ennis’s eye, and she looked over Essa’s shoulder to see Kasia waving her hands at the four of them, shooing them into the kitchen.
Essa turned to see and smiled. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about your new mother-in-law these past twenty minutes, it’s that she isn’t to be disobeyed. Come on, I want to know why you look so pleased with yourself.”
Essa practically dragged her out of the hall into the warm kitchen, Lora and Kenna close behind.
Kasia’s planning was evident in the kitchen. Not only did she have several different kinds of breads and rolls baking or cooling—including honey rolls, which Ennis happily plundered—but also the clothes they’d spoken about.
Enveloped in the sweet, yeasty smell of baking bread, Lora helped her out of her fine blue gown and into a thick, sturdy quilted shirt of deep green and earthen colored breeches. The shirt fit tight, allowing Kenna and Essa to strap a gauntlet to either forearm.
Essa commanded her to sit at a high stool while she went about arranging her hair. Resigned to an aching hairline, sore neck, and a mildly surprised expression, Ennis busied herself with a second honey roll as Essa began mercilessly tugging.
While Essa worked, Kenna drew two circles of steel from her pocket and clasped them onto Ennis’s wrists. Her eyes wide, Ennis looked down at the scraps of metal Taryn and Beon had turned into marriage circlets. Her own, the more delicate, was like a bracelet, the fine, unadorned face gleaming in the soft light of the kitchen. Manek’s sat loosely on her left wrist, his a wider cuff. She beamed up at Kenna. “They’re beautiful.”
From the cracked open kitchen door, Ennis spied Manek when he came down the stairs. The moment he made the landing, Taryn came forward, helping him into his armor. When he stepped back, Manek was a warlord—the heavy leather of his boots shone; his armor, from his cuirass all the way down to his greaves, gleamed in the soft light of the hall; and the silver hilt of the sword strapped round his hip glittered, all of it making him look like Ean himself. The only skin left bared was his face and hands.