Her nerves settled and she kept pace, Anhalt before her, her guards at her sides. Zarina and a convoy of servants trailed behind. Adele briefly touched the pamphlet tucked in her sleeve.
Anhalt abruptly halted before wooden double doors that rose almost three lengths above them. Four men stood on either side, including one of Lord Kelvin's nameless protocol officers. He consulted his leather-bound schedule. “Your Highness, you and your escort will wait here until we hear the music begin. Then we will receive the signal to enter.”
Adele rolled her shoulders and snapped an arm back toward her handmaiden with her palm open. Zarina ran forward and placed the bouquet in her hand. The princess brought the bundle of flowers forward against her breast as Zarina resumed adjusting the gown and veil.
Adele narrowed her eyes and jerked her powdered chin at the door. “Let's go. Now.”
The protocol officer replied, “Forgive me, Your Highness. We wait until the signal.”
Colonel Anhalt stepped forward and seized both brass handles. As the bureaucrat reached out to him, one of the White Guardsmen pulled the weedy little man aside, a bit roughly. The Gurkha officer tugged, and the doors budged with a mighty creak. The guardsmen lent a hand and the great doors swung back. Anhalt and his soldiers moved to the side, leaving Adele framed in the vast entryway with her head lifted defiantly.
Thousands of lilies festooned every corner of the Suez Hall. Despite the couple's rush to the altar, the chamber was still filled with thousands of guests in their finest. All eyes fell on Adele in a massive roar of turning bodies. Eyes widened and heads swiveled, searching for cues.
At the end of the white corridor, Senator Clark and Lord Kelvin stood with mouths agape. The two men exchanged hurried comments. Clark was heated, but Kelvin merely shrugged. Major Stoddard, who stood at Clark's side, lowered his head to hide his laughter. The prime minister, who was officiating over the ceremony, glanced to his right, and in a flurry of brass and wood, the orchestra brought instruments to bear. The conductor raised his baton, and the old “Wedding March” commenced with barely noticeable flaws.
Adele had wanted a wedding with a Persian flavor, but Senator Clark and the European-descended powers in court, led by Lord Kelvin, pushed for a northern-style ceremony. The reason, they argued, was that this marriage was the key to the liberation of the north. She had her doubts about their rationalizations, but she didn't care enough to fight.
Adele surveyed the hall with cold eyes. Perhaps a manic, bridal cartwheel down the aisle would remind the assemblage that she was a mentally deranged, tragic figure being bayoneted into marriage. She noticed Mamoru off to the side standing near the table where she and Clark would soon sign their wedding certificate. Today he wore his most elegant red and black kamishimo. He nodded with an expression of gentle awe, reminding her of her own appearance and the importance of the day.
Then her father stepped into view, his old eyes sweeping over her. For a moment, Adele could almost see them glisten. What was it that Anhalt had implied: a spitting image of her mother? Adele's expression softened, her hand reaching out to her father. He grasped it a little too quickly and guided her arm to interlock with his own.
The music swelled and echoed in the chamber as the entire room rose as one. The flickering gaslight shimmered in the air as it reflected off a hundred crystal chandeliers like fireflies dancing across the water.
As she and her father started the long walk down the aisle, Adele turned her attention to the man waiting at the far end of the aisle. The bridegroom was in his navy blue dress uniform, brass buttons afire in the light and his saber dangling from his hip. The reflections sparkling off Senator Clark's multitude of medals made him sparkle. It amused Adele and she smiled.
Her father noted her attention. “You are too good for him.”
Adele turned to him. “Yes, I know.”
“As your mother was too good for me.”
Adele gripped him tighter, and the two supported each other under the canopy of raised sabers courtesy of Clark's American Rangers lining the aisle. Lord Kelvin's mortified eyes were wide as a bug's as he noticed the two imperials talking during the processional. Good, Adele thought, and her smile widened. Clark interpreted that her joy was meant for him and came briskly forward to claim his bride, but His Majesty, Constantine, stepped between the groom and his daughter. Gnarled hands reached for the delicate silk veil, taking his time lifting the material away from her face. His fingers slid ever so lightly across her cheek in a rare show of public affection. He took Adele's hand, squeezing so hard her eyes widened. Only then did he turn to Senator Clark. He took Clark's gloved hand and placed her hand in his.
“I give you my only daughter in hopes that the Equatorian Empire and the American Republic can unite to make our people strong enough to withstand all blows.” His booming voice brought chills to Adele's skin.
Clark grinned, but surprisingly followed protocol, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will treasure Her Highness, Adele, and our united nations till my dying day, and defend them both with my final breath.”
Constantine stared at Clark and then, after a long moment of silence, stepped back. The warmth of his large hand covering Adele's own fell away, and she took her bouquet in both hands to avoid Clark's grasp.
This is it, Adele thought. The smile on her lips faded. Her eyes were hard and regal as she moved to Clark's side, a bride of duty and nothing more. Her gaze drifted to Lord Kelvin as he began to drone through the opening remarks, but the splendor of the window behind him drew Adele's attention as the lowering sun shone through and an open sky beckoned. The beautifully colored panes of glass were prison bars this day. Her eyes closed as she summoned thoughts of happier days, playing with the cats in Edinburgh Castle, Gareth's attempt at writing, the meal the townsfolk had prepared for her.
Kelvin said her name for some reason, and her attention came back to the present. She tried to listen to the words and repeat them, but they meant little to her.
“I, Adele, take you, Miles, to be my husband to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward until death do us part.”
Clark put his hand out, and Stoddard stepped up smartly and placed a ring in Clark's hand. The wedding ring was an ornate masterpiece rimmed with jewels. There were American-mined chrysoberyl, their gold and honey tones mingling with the sherry-red topaz set on either side. Two oval citrines sat beyond that. It was a bold wedding band, not typical for Equatoria, diamonds being rarer in the Americas. Clark had also chosen not to include emeralds in the design, not because they'd clash, but more likely because Equatoria was famed for her gigantic emeralds.
Senator Clark took Adele's hand with much ceremony for the benefit of the crowd, and slipped the ring on her finger. It was heavy enough to feel like shackles. He grinned as he rushed through the vows, and his mouth opened to utter his declaration of “I thee wed,” but a sudden crash of glass brought screams and shouts from the crowd.
A shower of colored fragments from the beautiful windows rained down just behind Lord Kelvin. The tinkling of a thousand painted shards filled the air even over the exclamations of the disrupted wedding party. Everyone came to their feet, moving backward or forward depending on whether or not they were armed.
Adele ducked her head but then was up quickly, facing the window and whatever threat had dared to interrupt. To her annoyance, Clark attempted to push her out of the way, but she sidestepped his gallantry and moved toward her White Guard, who were already running up the aisle with Mamoru just behind them.
A flutter of a long grey cloak around a tall, slim figure rose from a crouch amid the shattered glass.
“The Greyfriar!” someone shouted.
THE ROOM ERUPTED with gasps, shouts, and applause. Adele stood transfixed with astonishment and cried Greyfriar's name with elation. Smoky glass-covered eyes snapped toward her voice. Without hesitation, she bounded around the s
tunned figure of Lord Kelvin, as best she could in her bulky wedding dress.
“What are you doing here?” she shouted breathlessly as Greyfriar reached out to her.
“Come with me! You're in danger!”
Senator Clark ran toward his bride, rage smeared across his features. All his planning and hard labor were being taken from him by an upstart's ridiculous showmanship and utter audacity. Greyfriar swung Adele behind him and drew his sword as he faced the infuriated American.
“I'll have your head on a pike for this!” Clark ground out through his clenched teeth.
Drawing his saber, he charged, his sword swinging. Greyfriar countered his mad thrust, deflecting the blade away from Adele and himself.
“Don't kill him!” Adele shouted, though to the gathering crowd it wasn't clear whom she was talking about.
Blades rang as the rivals fenced past the empty throne. Greyfriar either didn't see or wasn't concerned with the six White Guard rushing toward him, Colonel Anhalt in the lead. A twist of Greyfriar's wrist and a flourish of his powerful arm sent Clark's saber flying from his hand. He kicked the disarmed senator in the chest, shoving him back into the oncoming soldiers. Anhalt was the only one who managed to sidestep the pileup.
Clark shouted, “Kill him! Kill him!”
Greyfriar angled back toward the smashed window, guiding Adele with him. The crowd was surging forward now, half in outrage and half with wild excitement, consumed by the spectacle before them. A long rope hung from the broken panes. Greyfriar tossed his rapier to Adele, who caught it expertly. He seized her, then the rope, and began to scale the wall. He was aided by his vampiric flight, though done so subtly, no one could tell. He carried her quickly up thirty feet to the sill of the smashed window. The train on Adele's gown hung to the floor below.
She turned back to gaze over the chaotic Suez Hall, searching for her father. Her brother Simon was clearly visible standing on a chair, waving his turban and cheering. Then she saw Anhalt hefting an ornamental dagger. She held out a desperate hand as if that would be enough to stop his fatal throw.
The dagger flew through the air toward Greyfriar's head, but miraculously it missed, thunking with reverberating force into the window frame inches from his cheek. Greyfriar tuned back to address the new threat, but Adele clutched him around the neck.
“He missed on purpose,” she whispered hurriedly.
“I doubt that.”
“Trust me, he doesn't miss.”
With a perfectly controlled slash of his blade, Greyfriar cut the gown's long train and it fluttered over the throne in a heap of satin and silk while Adele kicked off her high-heeled shoes. The couple moved onto a narrow ledge outside. From this dizzying perspective, Adele saw a huge crowd gathered around the palace. Shouts of Greyfriar's name echoed up from the square below. She also saw soldiers attempting to get through the thronged mass.
Adele's veil caught hard and her head jerked back painfully. “Wait!”
She tore the tiara from her head and tossed it, veil and all, to the crowd below, who converged on the grand souvenir. The ensuing tumult slowed the guard's advance. Adele tried to manage her unwieldy dress as best she could for the moment, but it kept snagging on stone and iron fixtures as Greyfriar helped her to a more spacious ledge.
“We have to hurry,” he told her, searching around them.
“Wait!” Adele grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? What am I doing?”
“You are in danger.”
She laughed. “Danger how? From a boring life maybe, but…”
“Cesare planned to kill you during the wedding.”
Adele rubbed her forehead in disbelief. “That's why you came? Wouldn't a warning have sufficed? You couldn't have sent another cat with a hidden message?”
“No time. I had to come myself.”
“I do have an entire army to protect me.”
“You had an army in France too, and you ended up in Cesare's power.” Greyfriar took her by the shoulder with a grip of sincere intensity, as if convincing a disbelieving child of some difficult fact. “I came because I had to. A message would not serve.”
“I can't just run away.”
“I trust your life with no one but me.” Greyfriar's voice was burdened with desperation. “Please, Adele. This place is dangerous for you.”
“But…”
“Do you want to marry Senator Clark?”
“No,” Adele said quietly as a flutter of excitement born of a free horizon rose up inside of her. Then her face grew more determined. “No, I don't. All right, then, let's go.” She looked around the windswept ledge. “I hope you have transportation waiting for us.”
“Transportation?”
“Don't you have an escape plan?” Adele cursed before laughing desperately. “We need to work on your forward planning.”
“My plan was to get you before you were killed. I came all the way from England. I barely reached Alexandria in time.”
With Greyfriar's balance and strength, they gained the rooftop of the Victoria Palace and, to their great relief, found it empty. They could see the Mediterranean crowded with ships just below them, as well as the Nile delta and Lake Mareotis sparkling in the descending sun.
“We need to get out of the city.” Adele grabbed Greyfriar's hand, pointing south. “That way.”
“North is faster.”
“Like when you dragged me to Edinburgh to escape from London? Just trust me!”
An iron door crashed open and troopers poured out onto the roof. They quickly spotted the couple. Greyfriar and Adele ran to the parapet. With his arm around her waist, he pulled her close and jumped. Adele's breath left her as they flew through the air in a barely controlled drop to another rooftop almost thirty yards away. The guards rushed to the edge, but none dared make the jump. They lifted their rifles, but no shots followed.
Adele and Greyfriar ran for the next roof in the palace complex. He again grabbed Adele's waist and jumped down to a lower level. Changing direction multiple times, they ran from peak to peak until they reached the high outer-palace walls. They paused and looked down to a dark corner of the city below. He pulled her tight against him once more. She exhaled against his neck and wrapped around him as he jumped, never tiring of the free-fall sensation when in his arms.
In seconds, they were outside of the Victoria Palace grounds, but few citizens were allowed in this part of the city so close to the palace, which was why Adele had led them here. She tugged Greyfriar into an alley, staying hidden as much as possible from eyes that might still be on the high palace spires, watching for them and signaling to the soldiers on foot.
“Give me your cloak.” He tugged off his cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. She drew the cloak tight about her. “At least I won't be as obvious.”
The imperial quarter fell away as they ran into the Turkish Quarter, which Adele knew well. People were at their windows, caught up in their own daily routines. A few glanced down at the odd couple. Some pointed. Adele was sure they were a sight. Her in the remnants of a white wedding dress wrapped in a long grey cloak, running alongside a soldier wrapped like a Tuareg with smoked glasses, armed to the teeth.
Adele led the way as they curved around the Western Harbor. She kept to backstreets near the water, where laborers continued to ply their trades no matter the holiday. It would be impossible to remain undetected for long. They had to leave Alexandria quickly. Orders were no doubt already flying to lock down the city. Roads would be closed. Rail and air would be suspended.
Shrill whistles sounded, and Greyfriar tucked Adele into a dark alcove where they pressed close against each other as a squad of police raced past. Greyfriar's attention stayed on the street for another minute until he was content immediate danger had passed. Turning back to Adele, he watched her as she ripped out another layer of satin petticoat from under the massive skirt and tossed it aside.
She glanced up and caught his bemused smile. “Oh, believe me, I have more.”
&
nbsp; He fingered a delicate curl of her hair. “You look exquisite.”
He lifted his smoked glasses, and their gazes finally met in a moment of calm, his pale blue eyes boring into her dark ones. Adele's hand pulled down the thick cloth wrapped around his mouth and chin until it revealed his lips. In the dark alcove filled with frail, drifting cobwebs and dust-covered timber, they kissed, passionately, desperately making up for the months of separation.
When they pulled apart, he wiped her lip where his sharp teeth had nicked her. He wanted to lick the blood from his thumb, to taste her once more. The hunger welled up in him like a lion's roar, and it took all his willpower to refrain. He smoothed her hair, trailing his fingers through her curls.
In a strained voice, he said, “We need to go.”
She leaned into him. “I know.” Licking her bleeding lip, she straightened. “I suppose I will have to learn how to kiss a vampire properly. You're dangerous.”
His breath was quick as he gazed at her. She was here beside him, willingly and without regret, full of life, full of blood. She looked beautiful.
“Why is it always danger and dire situations with you?” she asked.
“Nature of the beast, perhaps.” His smile showed a glint of his sharp teeth. Then he replaced his glasses and lifted his scarf to become Greyfriar once more.
She had missed his dry humor.
Together they slipped from the security of the dark cul-de-sac and onto the street. The way seemed clear and they darted out, only to run straight into Colonel Anhalt with a contingent of the White Guard. The officer's face was like stone, his dark eyes locked not on the princess but on the tall figure of Greyfriar. Adele stood wide-legged in front of the swordsman, protecting him in case her personal guards tried to act. Adele didn't know what to say to her loyal guardian. She was almost ashamed. Her breath was trapped painfully in her chest as she tried to think of a way out of the situation that did no harm to any of them.
Colonel Anhalt said, “Your Highness, the court is frantic with concern for your well-being.”
Rift Walker, The (Vampire Empire, Book 2) Page 14