“There’s this stupid Vysanthean tradition where the bride has to make her own veil. It’s from the old days, when you really didn’t know who you were marrying. The groom would only get to see you at the last moment, once you lifted your veil, and depending on what you looked like, it was a good surprise or a bad surprise,” she explained, pulling a face. “Back then, the men would have to put the veil into a flame if they liked what they saw, or pull the veil back down if they didn’t. Now, we just burn it for symbolic reasons, though I think it’s a load of garbage.”
“Did they still have to marry the girl, if they weren’t impressed?”
She nodded. “Sadly for the girls, yes—they had to marry those horrible men. It was the ultimate, most awful way of shaming a woman, and yet another example of our backward history.”
“I’m sure Navan won’t be pulling your veil back down,” I retorted, my throat catching. I saw Seraphina flinch, her eyes filling with concern. “Anyway, what’s the hot wax for, if it’s not a… personal question?”
“Another stupid tradition,” she said, giving me the moment I needed to regroup emotionally. “We have to make a cup out of wax and leaves—the way our ancestors did, to catch the blood of our very first victim. If the cup holds the water from the Binding Font, our marriage will last a long time and be filled with good fortune. If it doesn’t, then it will be a sad, ill-fated one.”
“You’d better poke some holes in it, just to be sure,” I joked, though I could hear the sadness in my voice.
Unexpectedly, Seraphina reached over and took my hand in hers. “Riley, there was another reason I asked you to come here today that has nothing to do with helping me make a drinking cup or a veil,” she said softly. “I wanted to talk to you one-on-one, without Navan around, to see how you were really feeling. I know you keep putting on a brave face around him—I saw you do it at the school—and I just wanted to check that you were really okay about all of this, because… although I know I’m the one who asked, I also know that this must be so difficult for you.”
I smiled, forcing back tears. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” she pressed. “I’m so worried that this marriage will drive a wedge between you and Navan. It means nothing to him or me, but it still means I’m taking something from you—something that you might have wanted for yourself, with him, one day. I hate that I’m doing that, and I hate that it might affect your relationship. I wouldn’t blame you for backing out, even now.”
“I’m not backing out of this, Seraphina. My heart can take a hit, but your future can’t take a marriage to Aurelius.”
The two of us looked at each other in silence. I knew she was right—all of this was already driving a wedge between Navan and me, even though we were pretending everything was fine. I could sense his distance in the way he kissed me, and the way he let me sleep alone in Kaido’s lab, and the way he picked up a call instead of carrying me through to the lounge, to make love after so long apart. He was pulling away from me, and there was nothing I could do to grasp him back. We couldn’t talk about it, so what else could he do but retreat into himself, the same way I was?
I’d forced him into this, but the guilt he was feeling must have been overwhelming. He must have thought that every single day, after the wedding, he’d have to look into my sad eyes and see the hurt on my face, because we could never be married. That would be enough to put distance between the strongest of couples.
“So you’re telling me that things are okay between you and Navan?” she asked.
I shrugged. “They will be. This marriage is just a symbolic act—it’s not one you’re going into heart first,” I said. “It’s a piece of paper that keeps you out of harm’s way. That’s all.”
I didn’t truly believe what I was saying, but I needed to make myself believe it. I didn’t want Navan drifting any farther away from me. After everything we’d been through together, I refused to let something so insignificant ruin us. So what if we never got married? I’d heard of plenty of couples who’d been together for decades and were perfectly happy without rings on their fingers. We could be one of those, too.
“Riley, symbolic acts do matter, and they do hurt. You have every right to be upset, and if anyone tells you any different, they’re wrong,” Seraphina said, still clutching my hands. A sob caught in the back of my throat, and my resolve crumbled. It was like that one person hugging you unexpectedly, just when you’d managed to pull it together.
“I’m just worried it will change everything,” I whispered. “I’m worried that he’ll never really be mine because we can never get married. I’m worried the guilt of what he’s doing will push him away from me, and I’ll never be able to get him back. I can tell him I love him until I’m blue in the face, but what if it doesn’t make a difference? What if he can’t forgive himself? What if it breaks us?”
Tears trickled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them any longer. This was the conversation I should have had with Angie and Lauren. But I couldn’t get through to my friends, and speaking with Seraphina was making me feel a little bit less alone in all of this.
“I’m so sorry, Riley,” Seraphina murmured, pulling me into a hug. “I have never hated this planet more than I do right now, and if it weren’t being run by two self-centered idiots who are threatening the future generations, I would run away and never come back.” I heard a sob catch in her throat as we clutched each other and cried. Neither of us was getting a good deal.
“It’s not fair,” I wheezed.
“No, it’s not.”
“I mean, you won’t be able to marry anyone you love, either! If they come along, you’ll be stuck in a marriage of necessity, with no way out of it!” I hadn’t thought about it from that angle, and now that it had dawned on me, I felt even worse. This woman wasn’t trying to steal my man—she was avoiding a terrible one and locking herself into a life of solitude. She could have all the relationships she wanted, but what happened when she decided she wanted kids?
Seraphina held me tighter. “Don’t you dare think about me in this moment, Riley! You’ve already done enough for me. I’ll be fine, and you’ll be fine, and we’ll all survive this mess one way or another.”
“But what happens when you want children?”
“I’ll have them in secret and hope nobody finds out,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, I already have more children than I can count, and I adore every single one of them. If I never have any of my own, I know I’ll have passed on something good to the children who’ve passed through my classroom. That will be enough for me, if even one of them manages to make a difference in this place.”
If she hadn’t been such a genuinely nice person, it would have been impossible not to hate her. As it was, there was no option but to love her. Her heart was in the right place, and she was exactly the kind of woman who could make a difference, one day. Yes, she’d asked me to give up a lot, but who wouldn’t have done the same, in her position?
“See, this is why I need to keep you safe from Aurelius,” I gushed. “I heard what he said to you, and he is never going to get the chance to do any of that.”
Seraphina released me gently. “I knew that was you in the crowd that day, at the convocation,” she gasped. “Believe me, he’s said far worse things. He’s said my tears are his aphrodisiac, and that he never wants me to learn to like it. He’s said he wants to punish me, in every unimaginable way, until my screams bring the guards running.”
I felt a shiver of disgust ripple up my spine. “I promise you’ll never have to worry about him again. He is never going to harm you. Not if I have anything to do with it.”
Seraphina gripped my hands, the tears falling from her near-red eyes. “For as long as I live, I will never forget the sacrifice you have made for me. Never.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“You look so handsome,” I said, a lump gathering in my throat.
“I think I look stupid,” Navan replied, fixing the collar of the dark crimson suit
he wore. It was tailored to flatter the muscular shape of his body and hide the outline of his bound wing, with a high collar and glittering golden buttons going down the front.
I stood behind him, lifting a heavy cloak of red fur onto his shoulders, pinning it into place. It was a cloak that Seraphina’s father had sent over, which had been worn to his wedding, and by his father-in-law before him, and so on and so forth. It was supposed to be a symbol of protection, marking the shift of responsibility from the father to the husband. An archaic tradition, much like the cup and the veil that Seraphina had been making, still clinging to its place in modern Vysanthean culture. The cloak certainly smelled ancient, a waft of must filling my nostrils as I pinned it in place. I moved around to the front of him to better grasp the ties that fastened the cloak.
He didn’t take his eyes off me as I worked on the fastenings. He’d chosen to dress for the wedding at Sarrask’s cottage, where he could spend his last single moments with me, instead of at the apartment that Seraphina’s father had rented for the occasion. An invitation had been sent to Navan, but he’d politely declined.
Three days had passed by so quickly, and there was no putting this wedding off any longer. Although we’d tried to act normal around each other, things hadn’t quite been the same between us since I returned from Seraphina’s. We hadn’t spent another night apart, but we’d stopped short of making love each evening, unable to relax with the weight of everything bearing down on us both. He’d kiss me passionately, then draw away, remembering what was on the horizon. I was the same, trying to force my mind to forget what was going to happen, and while I could make my brain pretend everything was peachy, I couldn’t get my body to cooperate. He’d sense my stiff muscles and ask what was wrong, and the romantic moment would vanish in an instant.
Still, every morning since, I’d woken up in his arms, and that gave me hope that we were going to be just fine. I knew we were doing everything for the right reasons, but it hadn’t quite become real in my mind. Now, there was an hour until sunset, and then it would all be over. Weirdly enough, I felt relieved. As soon as the wedding was finished, we could start repairing the cracks that had appeared in our relationship, before they became too big to overcome.
“Stop,” he whispered.
I didn’t dare look up, my hands still fastening the ties in place. “We have to get you dressed,” I said softly, knowing that if I gazed into his eyes, I would crumble.
“Please, Riley.” I felt a hand slip around my waist, while his other hand rested below my chin, urging me to look up into his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I let my gaze drift up to meet his. There were tears in his eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I didn’t want him to be sad, but his misery was contagious. Already, I’d had to scold Ronad and Sarrask for moping around downstairs, but that appeared to be the mood that had settled over the cottage.
“We need to get you dressed, or you’re going to be late,” I urged, but his kiss stopped me from saying anything more. I gasped against his lips. Desperately, I held his face with both hands, kissing him back with all the anguish that had been building up inside me. I pressed close to him, like I might never see him again, and kissed him like it was the last time.
“I love you, Riley. Please, never forget that,” he said, breaking away.
I smiled, running a hand across his short hair, where Brisha’s patterns had been buzzed away before he came back for me. “I love you, too. I’ll never forget it—I couldn’t if I tried.”
A knock at the door distracted us, and Kaido peered into the room. “The ship has arrived,” he said bluntly. “It is poor form to keep the bride waiting, I hear, so you should probably go. You will want to be the first there.”
I chuckled uneasily, standing on tiptoe to kiss Navan once more. “You heard the man. You’ve got a wedding to get to,” I said, determined not to cry.
“You’ll definitely be there?” Navan sounded worried.
“I promise I’ll be there,” I replied, cupping his face in my hands again. “There’s a wedding present we have to collect, remember?” I winked.
“I guess I’d better go, then,” he said reluctantly, taking my hand as we walked to the door together. His cloak swayed from side to side, making him look like some exotic storybook prince, come to rescue the suffering princess.
Sarrask and Ronad were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, both of them wearing the same mopey expressions I’d scolded them for earlier. They were dressed in smart, high-collared suits, similar to the one Navan was wearing. Ronad’s was a cobalt blue, while Sarrask’s was a gloomy slate gray. Kaido, on the other hand, had selected a surprisingly gaudy number made of magenta silk, with aquamarine embroidery, and seemed pretty pleased with the end result.
“I based the color scheme on one of my Dezaray plums!” he confided in me, as we reached the kitchen. “Do you like it? Sarrask said it hurt his eyes, but I am not certain what he meant by that. Is that a good thing?”
“I think you look very charming, Kaido,” I assured him, flashing a warning look at Sarrask and Ronad, to keep their mouths shut about Kaido’s unexpectedly bold fashion statement.
“Excellent!” Kaido enthused, before disappearing out of the house to where a ship was waiting. We followed him, the pair of us halting at the end of the garden path. The sleek metal sides had been decorated with blood-red vines intertwining around a set of symbols I couldn’t read.
I turned to Navan. “What does it say?”
“Navan and Seraphina, bound forever,” he replied, shuddering.
“Vysanthean romance really does take some getting used to,” I teased sarcastically, gripping his arm, wanting to break the tension.
He took a deep breath and gazed deep into my eyes. “Tell me this doesn’t change anything between us, Riley,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell me we’re going to be okay, and that we’re going to get through this. If you can’t promise me that, then I can’t go through with this.”
I slipped my arms around his waist and held his gaze. “We can get through anything, Navan. I promise you, as soon as this is over, we’re going to be absolutely fine.”
He turned his back to the waiting ship, blocking the chauffeur’s view of me as he dipped his head to steal a kiss from my lips, before moving toward the vessel, his hand gripping mine until the very last moment. The rest of us were following in Kaido’s vessel, while the groom traveled alone. I watched him as he walked up the gangway. The hatch of the wedding ship closed behind him. Even then, I stayed where I was and waved up at the ship as it took off, taking Navan toward his waiting bride.
Soon enough, he’d be back in my arms, and we could get on with our life together.
* * *
Kaido set the ship down beside a patch of woodland, in a designated parking spot, alongside a number of other vessels. I hadn’t expected there to be so many, but it seemed Seraphina and Navan were popular among the coldblood community.
It was a place I recognized as soon as I stepped out of the hatch and down the gangway, the hem of my dress whispering across the grass. Seraphina had lent me a beautiful, gauzy gown of sunset copper for the occasion, with a flowing skirt and a fitted bust. It had draped off-the-shoulder sleeves that billowed out, making me feel like royalty. A heavy, dusky red cloak completed the look, to keep out the bitter cold. I knew I would still look like a potato next to the bride, but I felt like a million bucks.
Since Ronad and I had a job to do later, I couldn’t walk quite as elegantly as I wanted to, with a gun holster strapped to one leg and a mini-bandolier of knives strapped to the other. It turned out that, while Sarrask’s weapons store wasn’t particularly extensive, he did have some useful things, although he still didn’t know we’d taken them. Glancing at Ronad, who was walking ahead, I had no idea where he’d put his gun, and frankly, I didn’t want to.
There was a chapel in the near distance, small, but perfectly formed, with a high steeple ca
rved from a gleaming gray stone. It was a chapel I’d seen before, though it had been daylight then. I remembered Navan bringing me here to visit Naya’s grave, when I first came to Vysanthe, and though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get jealous, I felt the unbidden sting of it in my chest.
In the burnished glow of the setting sun, the whole place looked surreal. Bronzed light glanced off the gray stone, turning it a rusty shade of red, while the approaching darkness brought the colorful orbs of the graveyard to life. Holographic images of the dead burst upward as well-wishers passed on their way to the chapel itself. They almost blended in with the congregation, who were smiling and laughing. It was a weird juxtaposition, but then, I’d always found church weddings strange, where the vitality of a new life together ran alongside the finality of death. Perhaps it was a reminder: ‘til death do us part.
As we walked up to the chapel, I noticed the willow-like tree with the blood-red fronds that Navan had taken me to that first time. There, still hovering in the shadow of the weeping branches, was a single purple orb.
Ronad had frozen on the path up to the chapel, his eyes fixed on the glowing purple light. Naya was watching us from her shaded glade. I wondered what she’d make of all this.
“Did you want to visit?” I asked, taking him by the arm.
He shook his head. “Later, when there aren’t so many people around.”
With that, we passed through the silver double doors of the chapel and entered the space beyond. My human mind had been expecting church pews and a stuffy interior, so I couldn’t have been more surprised by what I saw. There, in haphazard clusters on the ground, were silken cushions of every rainbow shade, a small paper cup in front of every single one. Most of the congregation was already seated, their bodies turned in toward the center aisle, rather than forward.
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