King Emery shook Tobius’s hand firmly, adjusted his own golden crown and raised his drink. “Creator’s love to this wedding and to our two kingdoms. Let there be peace once again between Ashen and Caldaea.”
Wesley took another mouthful of wine, bringing warm, sweet flavours of summer and the tang of berries to his mouth. It went down smoothly, and his head began to spin.
This was not the sort of wedding Wesley had ever imagined for himself. It was a political stunt. He was unsure if he was more disappointed at his father for forcing such a thing upon him, or at his own naivety for expecting to be able to ever get what he wanted.
Tobius finished his toast with one more drunken announcement. “Tomorrow, we shall continue our celebrations with the Uniting Tourney, in the name of the Moon Mother and the newly married couple. The food and wine shall flow from dawn to dusk! Knights from across the kingdoms shall joust and race and melee for our pleasure, while the lords and ladies of Chateau Cardell extend their hospitality to the city streets for all to enjoy!”
King Emery went and sat further along the high table with his wife, Queen Sirillia. She coughed into a handkerchief before sipping some water. The woman was sickly and frail. Rumour had it she had been suffering with a long battle of lungrot.
Wesley was surprised she had attended the ceremony at all, let alone was feeling well enough to be at the reception so late into the night.
The celebration went on, but despite the dancing crowds and the wedding feast, all that Wesley wished for was to have Jodie in his arms again. Her silky black hair, soft skin, and adorable dimples.
He could see her as he closed his eyelids. Beautiful and serene, yet also strong of will and intelligent.
Wesley still fondly remembered the first night he ever lay with Jodie, in a barn outside the city. The way the moonlight shone off her smooth skin. The smell of her perfume as he took her in his arms.
They were so young. It was so long ago.
Wesley suddenly became aware of the arousal in his trousers, snatching him away from his daydreaming. He took another sip of wine as the reception continued and he was dragged back into his unpleasant reality.
“A wine lover, are you, my prince?” Ciana asked gently, trying to ease the tension between the two. “I’ve heard your father is fond of wine, too.”
Ciana had such soft features and a pleasant tone, why then did Wesley feel so conflicted about all that was happening?
Wesley smiled awkwardly. “Actually, no. I find it makes me rather dizzy.” The room was becoming a blur.
Ciana appeared confused. Wesley could see she was asking herself why then he would be drinking so much.
“My prince, I wanted to say that I’m so very happy that we are bringing peace between our kingdoms through this marriage,” Ciana said.
Wesley nodded. “As am I, my lady.” He spoke politely, but only what he felt was expected of him. “We waged war for many, unnecessarily long years, over scraps of land and shreds of honour. The border conflicts were misguided, from both sides, so I am glad that both sides have now seen the light.”
Ciana grinned before speaking unsurely, “I must say, I n-never thought I’d marry a prince as handsome as-”
“Look, Ciana,” Wesley said, taking her hand and leaning in to make sure nobody around them heard their conversation. He would not keep the charade going. “I want you to know I had nothing to do with this wedding. You seem lovely, but-”
“My prince, do not worry. I am prepared to do my wifely duties. Throughout our marriage, and tonight of course.”
“No,” Wesley snapped, shaking his head vigorously. “I do not want that.”
“I have prepared-”
“No, I will not do it.”
“But we must, my prince. For our kingdoms. It is tradition to bed on the wedding night in both our cultures, is it not?”
“Fuck tradition, I will not bed a child.” It was all he could come up with to shut her up.
Ciana sat in disbelief with teary eyes over Wesley’s sudden snap. She stood up and marched away from the table in tears, her handmaidens following her like chicks to a mother hen.
Wesley rested his face in his hands, frustrated. Moon Mother, let this night end.
All he wanted to do was run away and hide. But where would he go? Who could he turn to? Wesley was trapped. He could not disappoint his father and bring shame upon the family name, but how could he force happiness in such a dire situation?
Ciana had fled to her mother’s side. He could not hear their words, but Queen Sirillia had clearly noticed her daughter’s tears and attempted to comfort her with an embrace.
Sirillia’s gaze shifted to Wesley and then back to Ciana. She spoke some words in Ciana’s ear with a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder.
What was Sirillia saying to her? Was she speaking ill of Wesley?
Wesley felt incredibly uncomfortable. His formal attire was itching him, the seat cushion was lumpy, and he could feel many pairs of judging eyes upon him, evaluating him.
The doors to the feast hall opened with a groan across the way.
And then Wesley saw her.
Jodie Blacktree.
Wesley had met her back when she was Jodie Mannering when both were just children. She had made his insides ache from the very first day he ever laid eyes on her.
Just like that, all his thoughts seemed to drip from his body like a melting candle.
Jodie stepped into the feast hall through the main doors wearing a silver laced gown and shining jewellery, her arm interlocked with her husband’s, Ciana’s older brother, Petir.
Petir Blacktree was wearing a dark hose jacket and trousers, his hair slicked back, with a pompous face that was asking to be punched.
Wesley had never much cared for Petir Blacktree. The man worried a little too much about his appearance, just as his father did. He had a straight posture and high chin, as if to always be looking down on others.
Jodie, however, glowed like moonlight. Her onyx hair was tied behind her head, held together firmly with two long hair pins. Not a traditional style, yet stunning, nonetheless.
The couple were greeted by noble lords and family members as they walked in. Jodie gave a hug to her cousin and closest living relative, King Justen Mannering as soon as she spotted him.
All the while, Wesley couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful Jodie. He had been longing to see her, but he felt his stomach twist as soon as he had. It had been so long. Years, in fact.
Ciana promptly returned to her chair having wiped her face and readjusted her headdress. She seemed genuinely excited to receive her brother and sister-by-law.
Petir and Jodie made their way through the crowd, reaching the newly married couple. Petir bowed and Jodie curtseyed with smiles all around.
“I always knew you’d make a stunning bride. Look at you!” Petir exclaimed with raised eyebrows. “Don’t I have the most beautiful sister in the world?”
Ciana’s cheeks went red as she attempted to hold back a smile.
“You sure do,” Jodie said. “You look beautiful, sister. Apologies for the late arrival. Our carriage lost a wheel on the road to Andervale.”
“Not a problem at all. We are glad you could make it to the reception,” Wesley said.
“It’s so good to see you both,” Ciana said gleefully. “Jodie, you look amazing. You must introduce me to your dressmaker in Dawnhill. The stitching on that dress, it’s divine!”
“Actually, this gown is from home. I had it made in Stonebridge and delivered especially for tonight,” Jodie responded, stroking the fabric.
She had always been proud of her Midland heritage, ever since she was a small girl. She might have been a Blacktree, but ‘Jodie Mannering’ would never cease to exist within her.
Wesley had always loved that about Jodie. He couldn’t help but gawk at her beauty.
“Congratulations, Wesley,” Petir said, shaking the prince’s hand. “You’re a very lucky man, I hope you know.�
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“I sure am.” Wesley’s gaze remained on Jodie.
“I dare say, this wedding is almost as big as our own,” Petir boasted, looking at his wife. “Almost. It’s a shame your family does not have a larger feast hall, like ours in Alderhall. You could have held a much larger reception!”
Ciana awkwardly smiled at her brother’s comment. Wesley, however, was not as amused. He could tell that Petir was hiding insults in amongst his words. That was the sort of man he was.
“A shame, yes,” Wesley said. “Although I do believe my father prioritised feeding the kingdom over unnecessary luxuries these past few years. Given the border war, and all. Most would agree feeding the populace is more important.”
Petir looked unimpressed. “Mhm, the war. The one that House Seynard started? All because your father wanted to extend the reach of Caldaea into Ashen lands to set you up for a much larger reign than his own, I believe? If I am not mistaken?”
The tension was as thick as fog.
“The war we ended, as well. Yes.”
“Ended, surrendered. The two words are interchangeable to your family!”
Wesley’s face went red. “Perhaps if Ashen hadn’t choked our economy with trade tariffs-”
“Oh, please!” Petir shouted.
“Boys,” Jodie interjected. They went quiet, realising that others were staring at them. Jodie leaned in, “I think the cock-measuring contest is after dinner, so put them away.”
Ciana could not help but snort. It was not common for a highborn, let alone a future queen, to curse.
“It’s a wedding, not a duel. The war is over.”
“Speaking of duels,” Petir said, “why don’t we settle this tomorrow, like real men? You and I, Wesley. One-on-one combat at the tourney. It’ll be fun!”
The thought got Wesley’s heart pumping. He hadn’t been allowed to spar with anyone in years, and he’d never fought in a tournament before. Plus, it would give him a chance to humiliate Petir in a show of strength and ability in front of a huge crowd!
King Tobius stumbled over drunkenly. “Oh, no, no, no. My son will not be fighting tomorrow, or at any time. He is far too important for such frivolous things.”
Petir hid a smirk behind his hand.
“Father,” Wesley sighed, rolling his eyes. “Petir is challenging me to a duel, it would be rude of me not to accept. Cowardly, even.” In truth, he just wanted an excuse to kick Petir’s pompous arse into the dirt.
Tobius belched as he drank. “You are my only son, my heir. I will not have you participating in such risky activities. Let the knights play their games. That’s all they are good for, anyway.”
Tobius snorted at his own joke.
“Father, I really must insist-”
Tobius raised his voice in anger. “You will not backtalk me, boy. The answer is no. Princes do not fight in tourneys.”
There was nothing more Wesley could say, he knew. His father’s word was final.
Jodie tugged on Petir’s sleeve. “Come, let’s eat.”
Wesley, still red-faced over his father’s outburst, stopped Jodie in her tracks. He needed to say something, anything, to her. “My lady… I just wanted to say that… you look stunning.”
He could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Jodie smiled back without a word. He took her hand from across the table and kissed it. Jodie held his hand for a moment, and Wesley felt her slip a piece of what felt like paper into his closed fist, out of sight of everyone else.
His eyes grew wide with excitement.
“We have two seats waiting for you at our table, if you are hungry,” Wesley said, pointing to his side where the rest of the Blacktree family were seated and dining. He slid the paper into his pocket.
Petir and Jodie made their way over to their seats as Tobius teetered around the hall, greeting guests, and making questionable comments. The band played on.
“I’m sorry about my father,” Wesley said.
“It’s alright, my prince,” Ciana said.
“He’s a stubborn man.”
“Most kings are, I think.”
“And… I just wanted to apologise for before, my lady,” Wesley spoke into Ciana’s ear. “I must have had a bit too much to drink, I think.”
“No apology needed. You are a prince, and it is your wedding night. You are allowed to drink.” Her lips quivered as she spoke. She had been trained well to appease a husband; Wesley could tell.
The celebrations went on. Dancers in white and yellow gowns performed a traditional dance as the crowd clapped to the beat of the instruments. They wore crescent masks of white, covering their powdered faces.
Wesley observed his father, drink in hand, staggering towards Emery and Petir as they sat at their seats.
Drunk again. His father had a bad reputation for being loud-mouthed and a heavy drinker, on top the other rumours talked about him and his treatment of women.
Wesley decided he would step in to avoid any further humiliation with his new extended family. He did not want things getting any worse.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’m going to attempt to save your father and brother from my father.”
Ciana smiled back. “Good luck.”
The music was playing louder as the crowd danced and drank. The band played lutes and flutes while stomping on the stage to help amplify the beat.
Wesley strode over to the conversation, placing an arm around his father’s broad shoulders. He could smell the ale on his breath.
“Aye, aye, it’s a time of great strife in Alyria. Strange reports from across the kingdoms, the death of Queen Mira Bower. A red star in the sky! And now an invasion from the Akurai Empire!” Tobius babbled on.
King Emery is the most powerful man on the continent, and here my father is making drunken small talk with him! Wesley did not know whether to be embarrassed or impressed.
King Emery Blacktree was well-mannered and despite his new ally’s clear intoxication, continued with the discussion in a civil manner. “Indeed, it is quite worrying to hear of such adversities.” The man stood tall at six-foot, had a short, neat beard, and a strong, square jaw. “Nonetheless, we shall prevail through whatever hardships our kingdoms may face in the future.”
“Nothing like a good wedding to inspire peace in the land,” Petir said.
“We will make it through!” Tobius laughed, spilling some of his drink as he raised his goblet. “Caldaea is strong, and Ashen is stronger still.”
Emery and Petir both raised their drinks at the compliment and took a sip.
“Those bloody Stonehearts will throw those Imperials back into the sea. They’re rude, they’re violent, but they pack a mean punch. I have certainty that we have nothing to fear from an invasion in the northern kingdoms,” Tobius said.
“Nonetheless, if King Ulmer weren’t so stubborn, I would have sent reinforcements to help aid with the threat,” Emery said. “Alas, the hubris of the man never ceases to amaze. He has denied every one of my offers.”
Tobius chuckled, patting Emery on the shoulder. “Bloody Stonehearts!”
Wesley saw an opportunity and took a chance. “Father, how about we come sit down for a moment, I think you’ve had plenty to drink for the night.”
“Nonsense!” Tobius said sternly. “The celebrations have only just begun!”
“Yeah, Wesley. We are all enjoying your father’s…insights,” Petir sneered, his stoic jaw that he had inherited from his father looking as punch-able as ever.
“Father, we do not want to insult the bride or her family on the wedding night with discussions of invasion and political strife. Surely such matters can wait until the morrow.”
Tobius agreed. “Oh, alright. Very well.”
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Wesley said to Emery and Petir, bowing to the Blacktrees. He sat his father down at his chair. “Have some venison, father.”
Wesley left his father once he was sure he was distracted with some deliciously juicy venison. He filled another
goblet full of wine, the liquid warming his belly, before going back to his new wife. She sat motionless in her chair, watching over the celebrations, expressionless. The silence between them was deafening. Wesley attempted to cut it.
“So, my lady, is this your first time in Andervale?” Wesley asked.
“Um, yes, it is.” Ciana pouted her lips, containing her emotions.
“What do you think of the capital? How does it compare to Dawnhill?” Wesley tried to avert his eyes from Jodie, focusing on Ciana.
“Actually, this is the farthest from Dawnhill I’ve been in my entire life. It’s all so different. The smells, the sounds, the food, the people, it’s quite an experience.” Ciana looked around at all the unfamiliar people in the hall. She took off her headdress and stared at it. “Even this is foreign to me. We do not wear such things in Ashen.”
“I guess it would seem quite odd to an outsider. But such things are customary here. The bridal headdress is a symbol of purity to the Moon Mother. Our festivities must differ in many ways from yours.”
“The Moon Mother? I’ve only read a little about her in my studies. She sounds… interesting.”
“That’s one word for her. Others call her archaic,” Wesley said.
As the couple conversed, an old man strode into the feast hall, wearing a long white robe with black lining and a tall hat. The old man, like all other lumins who worshipped the Moon Mother, had most of his face covered in a four-pointed, star-shaped mask of white. The bottom point of the mask was the longest, reaching down to the chest before turning into a crescent.
His clothing marked him as the True Luminance- the one man responsible for sharing the Moon Mother’s white light in Andervale.
Behind the True Luminance entered a procession of other lumins in long robes, hands clasped together.
“What’s going on?” Ciana asked.
“Speaking of the Moon Mother, the True Luminance is here for our Bleeding,” Wesley said.
“Our what?”
The music died down and the crowd parted as the True Luminance and his procession of holy members made their way towards the high table. The True Luminance held up a glimmering white ceremonial knife.
Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1) Page 10