“Oh…I am quite finished. Thank you.”
The smallest wave of his hand, and the serving girl hurried forth and removed my plate, then set a new, smaller one in its place. I supposed I should have been expecting there to be another course, as our feasts back in Sirlende generally had at least four or five. What startled me, though, was that the servants brought out what was clearly intended to be dessert, some kind of flat cake drizzled with honey, and fruit, the concoction topped with chopped greenish nuts and more honey.
The Hierarch must have noticed my surprise, for he said, “We do not sit at table for hours the way you do in Sirlende. One course for all the main dishes, and one for dessert. It may take some getting used to.”
“No, that is very well, Your Majesty. I must confess that sitting and waiting for all those courses to be brought in and then taken away could become rather tedious.”
This time he appeared to approve of what I had said, for he nodded, and a corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “I am glad to hear that. I did not want you to think us provincial or less…sophisticated…because of that difference.”
“Not at all,” I said stoutly. Would I have told him the truth if I had not felt that way? I did not know. I only knew that, even in our short acquaintance, I did not want to do or say anything that displeased him, and such behavior was most unlike me. Not, of course, that mine was a disagreeable disposition, but neither had I ever lacked the spirit to stand up for myself when necessary. Perhaps it was merely a wish to avoid any further friction between us on this, our wedding night.
Wedding night….
I forced myself to attend to the desserts the servant girl had brought me, and the Hierarch did the same with what had been set before him. Even making myself eat slowly, and savoring every bite, it seemed I was done far sooner than I had hoped. I had thought to draw out our time at the feast, to postpone the inevitable. Foolish of me, I knew. I could not stop what was coming at the end of this night, no matter what I did.
And, sure enough, the servants came forth once again, this time to remove our empty dessert plates. They did not refill our goblets, which told me we truly had come to the end of the feast. I had drunk sparingly, and now I wished I had not been so careful. Perhaps it would have been better for me to be tipsy and lightheaded, and not so fearful of what was to happen next.
The Hierarch got to his feet, then extended a hand to me. I took it and rose from my seat, noting dimly as I did so that everyone in the hall had stood as well, that they not remain sitting in the presence of their ruler. “It is time, my lady.”
I could but nod.
Still holding my hand in his warm, strong fingers, he led me down from the dais and through the watching throng. At least I was able to hold my head high as I passed among them and then out through one of the doors, which led us to yet another colonnade. The night air was warm against my skin, redolent of some sweet, spicy bloom I could not identify.
We passed through a garden planted with low hedges and shrubs, where yet another fountain splashed under the light of the two moons, Taleron nearly full and, high overhead, Calendir a faint crescent just peeking over the roof of the domed building we now approached. Behind me I could hear the crunch of gravel and the low murmur of voices as those attending the feast followed us to our destination.
It was a lofty building that stood on its own, unlike the rest of the palace, whose wings all seemed to be connected by covered walkways and corridors. Tall, slender trees stood sentinel at the entrance, and the doors were standing open, so I could see all within was illuminated by more oil lamps, glowing like jewels with their glass housings of blue and red and green and gold.
“This is the temple of our God,” the Hierarch said quietly, his voice pitched low for my ears alone. “I promise you, my lady, that nothing fearsome awaits you. Here, our customs are not so very different from yours. I will prompt you for your responses, and you will make your replies.”
I nodded, then said, “Your Majesty, one question.” For it was something that had been preying on my mind ever since I had learned that tonight would also be my wedding night.
To my relief, he did not look impatient, or annoyed. “Only one?”
“Yes, just the one,” I replied, and smiled despite everything. “Why is it that Ambassador Sel-Trelazar did not tell me of all this? Surely it would have been helpful for me to know in advance what to expect.”
“Because it is not our way to speak of such things to outsiders, and to utter the words of our rites outside the borders of our land. You are here now, and will soon be bound to me, and so now at last I may speak. But the ambassador was not at liberty to do so.”
I knew I must be content with that, even if I did not completely understand. “Thank you, my lord,” I told him.
To my surprise, he turned the hand he held so my palm faced upward, then bent and kissed the sensitive flesh there. A not-unwelcome shiver passed through me, and I found myself gazing up into his face, searching his expression for some indication of what he might be thinking. Not very much luck there, unfortunately, for he obviously had suffered the same training as I, to keep his emotions safely hidden from the observations of others. But at least his touch on my hand was reassuring, and whatever had spurred his coolness back in the banquet hall seemed to have gone for now.
“It is time to go in,” he said then. “I will not ask if you are ready, for of course you do not know what to expect, but at least you can say that you will come with me now.”
“I will,” I replied, even as that shivery sensation of not-quite anticipation passed over me. “And I am ready, my lord. This is what I traveled a thousand miles to do.”
The light returned to his eyes, or perhaps it was only a reflection from the gleaming moon overhead. “So it is, my princess. Let us go inside, then.”
His fingers tightened around mine, and he led me inside, where the illumination from all those lamps flickered over the mosaics, these ones gleaming not just with red and blue and green, but gold and copper and silver as well. A great altar of carved marble was set against the far wall, and on it sat more oil lamps, only these were made of what seemed to be gold. The air was filled with an intoxicating scent, one I had never smelled before, at once spicy and musky, so thick it seemed to make my head swim.
What I noticed at once, however, despite my current lightheaded state, was that there were no statues, no figures of their god, to be seen anywhere. It was not thus in our own temple of Minauth, where the likeness of the god presided over all our ceremonies. And I recalled that, even as the Keshiaari people would not speak the name of their god, neither would they create any image of him, for to do such a thing was considered a great blasphemy.
From a hidden chamber behind the altar, three priests clad in long red robes appeared. Wrappings of gold cloth hid their faces, so I had no idea whether they were young or old. Dark eyes gleamed in the reflected light of the oil lamps.
“Approach,” the one in the middle said in the Keshiaari tongue.
Up until that moment, the Hierarch and I had conversed in my own language — to put me more at ease, I was sure — but I knew I could not expect such an accommodation from the priests in their own temple. Nervous as I was, I thought I could still manage, as long as their utterances did not grow too complex.
Hand still holding mine, the Hierarch brought me to the altar. Behind us, the large open space began to fill with people, although I guessed barely half of those who had attended the feast could fit into the temple. I wondered how they had determined who would enter and who would stay outside. That decision had to have been based on their rank somehow, although precisely how that worked in a land of a hundred princes and no barons or dukes, I had no idea.
And then I told myself that certainly I had more important things to occupy me at that moment.
“Who gives this woman to His Most High Majesty, to be his helpmate, to be the mother of his children, so that the holy line of Kel-Alisaad may not disappear
from the earth?”
To my surprise, I saw Ambassador Sel-Trelazar emerge from the crowd. He raised a palm to his forehead, then bowed and said, “I do, acting on behalf of her brother, His Majesty Torric Deveras, Emperor of Sirlende.”
“And do you have the marqat?”
That last word defeated me, as I could not recall hearing it before. But as Sel-Trelazar came to the altar and laid a heavy piece of parchment upon it, I realized it must have been some kind of marriage contract that my brother had signed before I departed for Keshiaar. This did not surprise me overmuch, as the dispensation of a crown princess was by necessity accompanied by a good deal more paperwork than the joining of a factory worker and a flower-seller.
One of the other priests handed the high priest — for I had begun to call him such in my mind, even though I did not know his true title — a long black quill, which he in turn extended toward me. “You will sign now, showing that you enter into this union through your own free will.”
I took the pen from him, and, after a brief encouraging nod from the Hierarch, I bent over the parchment and signed my name directly above the place where I now saw my brother’s familiar heavy signature. Then the Hierarch took up the quill and signed as well, in the beautiful slanting script of his homeland, an alphabet I still had yet to completely master. Speaking that tongue had proved to be far easier than writing it.
“The union is now recognized by God. Speak the words of the final binding,” the high priest intoned.
The Hierarch reached out and took both my hands in his, holding them so they were face up, while his palms rested lightly against mine. “I take you now, Lyarris Deveras, to be my wife in the eyes of God, to protect and succor you, and be your helpmate until I am one with God. So be it.” He inclined his head toward me then, eyes intent on mine.
It seemed I was now required to speak the same words. I gathered my breath and concentrated on recalling not just the Keshiaari words he had just uttered, but the correct pronunciation as well. It would never do to falter here, to sully this most important of moments. “I take you now, Beshalim Kel-Alisaad, to be my husband in the eyes of God, to protect and succor you, and be your helpmate until I am one with God. So be it.”
From the way he gazed upon me and smiled ever so slightly, it appeared I had acquitted myself well enough. I realized then this was the first time I had said his name aloud.
Would he kiss me? That was how such a ceremony ended in Sirlende, but I was a thousand miles from home, and I did not know what to expect. But then he bent and pressed his mouth first to one of my palms, then the other. When he was done, he raised his own hands so the palms faced skyward, and I followed suit, feeling his warm skin against my lips, and breathing in the faint spicy scent of his skin, not dissimilar from the incense that filled the air around us.
And at last he leaned down and touched my mouth with his, gently, with such a light brush of lip against lip that I might have imagined it. But no, the heat that went through me at even such a whisper of a touch was enough to tell me that kiss had been very real…and that I wanted more, wanted him to pull me into his arms so we might press against one another, taste the sweetness of one another’s mouths.
Such a notion was madness, of course, for I would never engage in that kind of behavior in such a public place. Had he felt it, though, felt the desire flicker along my veins like a spark catching a nest of kindling? And had he experienced that desire as well?
From his reaction, I would have to say not. He straightened, standing tall and proud, and turned away from me to the crowd of onlookers, who had remained silent all this time.
“I give you my new consort, Lyarris Kel-Alisaad!”
Still they did not cheer, but almost as one pressed their hands together and bowed. The silence seemed to pound against my ears, as such a moment back in Sirlende would have been attended by a great deal of clapping and crying aloud of well-wishes. Since my husband did not seem discomfited by his subjects’ lack of a vocal response, I decided this must be the custom here. Truth be told, I was still feeling the after-effects of that kiss, a tingling on my lips, a warm thrumming in my breast, and so perhaps I was not thinking clearly.
“Come,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the temple, out into the warm night, where the two moons smiled down upon us, and the scents of night-blooming flowers seemed to follow us wherever we went. Also following us were some twenty of the crimson-robed guards, but I attempted to pretend they were not there. My footsteps had not been so dogged back home, and while I did not like the custom, I understood it. A ruler must be protected at all times, even within the sanctuary of his own palace grounds.
I did not know the building at all yet, and so as we walked down one colonnade and entered the palace, then ascended a great marble stairway, nothing looked familiar to me. It was not until we traversed a long corridor that terminated in a pair of pale wood doors carved with stylized leaves and flowers and birds that I realized the Hierarch had brought me to my own suite.
“But — ” I began, then stopped myself. Surely I could not be so bold as to ask why my new husband had brought me to my chambers rather than his.
“But?” he repeated, only this time in Sirlendian. “These are your rooms, are they not?”
Mutely, I nodded.
His brows drew together. “Is it that you do not care for them? I doubt anything can be done at this late hour, but tomorrow — ”
“Oh, no,” I broke in. “My suite is everything I could have hoped for, and more. It is only….” And I let the words trail off into silence, for I found I did not have the courage to give voice to my concerns.
“Only?”
He did not want me. That was plain enough, for what other reason could there be for a man to abandon his wife on their wedding night? Never would I utter such thoughts, however. I possessed more pride than that.
Since he stood there, frowning slightly, clearly expecting an answer, I hastened to say, “Only — I am surprised that this is the end of the evening. Back in Sirlende, when my brother the Emperor married his bride, we danced until dawn.”
A flicker of understanding passed over the Hierarch’s face. “Ah, of course. Perhaps I should have warned you. We do not dance here in Keshiaar. That is, we have dancers who perform for us, at certain ceremonies and celebrations, but dancing as you have it in Sirlende, with men and women together — ” He broke off, and shook his head. “It is not done.”
“Oh,” I said, for that was the only syllable I could muster. No dancing? I foresaw a number of grim evenings stretching out before me, with not even the simple pleasures of a ball to distract me from the realization that I had bound myself in a loveless marriage. A certain tightness seized my throat, one I knew would lead to tears if I did not take hold of myself now. I breathed in, and continued, “I understand, my lord. Thank you for explaining these matters to me.” I was all too aware of the watching eyes of the guards, even though they had stopped several paces away, as if to give us a false sense of privacy.
“It is nothing. I should have said something earlier. But now, my lady, as it is late, I will leave you here so that you may rest.”
“Yes, it is very late,” I agreed, glad to seize upon that excuse to remove myself from his presence. “I will bid you good night now.”
“Good night,” he echoed, and I reached out to push open the door.
No sooner had I touched it than Miram opened it from the inside, bowing almost double at the sight of her Hierarch. Without saying a word, I moved past her and into the antechamber, and after another bow, she closed the door behind me. Her dark eyes were curious, but she only bowed to me as well, and said, “Your Majesty.”
No longer “Your Highness.” I had the title, even if I had only a husband in name.
And with that thought it all became too much. I hurried on into the bedchamber and hurled the doors shut behind me, then threw myself on the bed and wept, sobbing for the love I had foolishly thrown away, and
the world I had given up.
All was ruin, for the Hierarch desired only my connections.
He did not want me.
Chapter 6
What my attendants — both the women I had brought with me, and those provided by the Hierarch — thought of my breakdown of the night before, I had no idea, as they were far too well-trained to ever comment on the behavior of their betters. I could not precisely say that the world looked any more promising the next morning, for I still felt very low. However, I did know that sitting in my chambers and weeping over my lot would do me no good, and so I told myself I had best put my disappointment aside and come to terms with my new life, even if it was not the life I had envisioned.
And what precisely had I envisioned? I did not know for certain, save that I had hoped the Hierarch and I might find some harmony in our shared interests of learning and books. That clearly had been a silly dream, for if I had discovered only one thing in my short time here, it was that a woman’s mind held very little value in Keshiaar.
It came to me then that most likely an outsider would see nothing amiss in my current situation, for even in Sirlende it was the custom for the Emperor and his consort to have separate suites. Indeed, Ashara had caused quite the little scandal when she declared that she wanted no rooms of her own, and would happily share my brother’s chambers. My mother had declared it to be a clear indication of Ashara’s inferior breeding, and the gossips had quite the time with my sister-in-law’s declaration, until some other peccadillo claimed their attention. No, if I had not cried myself to sleep the night before, there would have been no indication that all was not precisely as I had expected it to be.
I doubted that Miram was a gossip, as she seemed far too reserved and cold for such behavior, and I did not know the other girls well enough to say for sure whether they had loose tongues. If my secret got out, then so be it. And what was I guilty of, really, save wishing to be a true wife to the Hierarch?
One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Page 8