“And what is going on at that gift table now?” Fern pursed her lips, her gaze shifting focus to where Ridge had joined Duck and Pimples and the bodyguard in a discussion about the box. “Some of the king’s men arrived early and have been checking the packages to make sure no weapons or suspicious substances join the collection on the table. I certainly hope nobody is planning to use your wedding as a venue for attempting an assassination of the king. That would be completely unacceptable.”
“I agree with that.” Sardelle cocked an eyebrow as guests from the first ferry disembarked, including Cas’s assassin father, Ahnsung. Ridge had invited him, she reminded herself.
A troupe of musicians started playing from within the temple.
“Oh no. They’re going out of order. I need to talk to them.” Fern released Sardelle’s arm with a pat and said, “You look fabulous. And so does Ridge. Enjoy yourselves.”
She hastened into the interior, waving her hands as she approached the musicians.
“How is she doing?” Lilah asked, coming over to join Sardelle while Therrik strode to the gift table carrying a small box.
Sardelle’s mind boggled at the idea of him giving her and Ridge a gift. She assumed Lilah had picked it out and simply put his name on the card.
“She seems healthy and vibrant,” Sardelle said.
“That’s good. My mother would wither up into a husk if I asked her to plan my wedding. My late husband’s aunt and mother handled most of the planning for ours.”
Sardelle thought about asking her if she would rely on some relative of Therrik’s if they were to get married. She’d heard that his parents were long gone. But she decided not to bring that up—Ridge would have a fit if she asked encouraging questions about that union.
“Ours was much smaller than this though,” Lilah said. “I hardly know any of these people. This is almost a…”
The musicians started up again, this time playing a slightly different song. Sardelle could barely tell the difference and assumed it was the work of the same composer.
“Circus?” Sardelle asked.
“Well, festival, at least.”
It is entertaining, Jaxi said. At least so far. I’m dying to see if the bodyguard allows the ticking box to go onto the gift table.
Duck and Pimples’ gift? It’s ticking?
Actually, I gather that’s Duck’s gift. Pimples joined in with Beeline and Crash and got Ridge—technically, both of you—a subscription to a cheese-of-the-month club.
If we’re being technical, that sounds like a gift for Phelistoth.
Ridge likes cheese.
Yes, but he makes the mistake of bringing the cheese he buys home where dragons can find it. What’s Duck’s gift? Have you snooped? Sardelle supposed she should wait to be surprised, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be surprised in this instance. Earlier in the summer, she had been glad she’d had some warning in regard to the couch. If she’d had to wait for it to be unveiled, she might have fainted in front of everyone.
I don’t snoop. I observe.
Through walls and boxes and other opaque structures.
It’s not my fault I’m extremely qualified to observe. To partially assuage your curiosity, I shall let you know can tell you that it’s immature and gross. Is it comforting to know that the person who thought such a thing would make a good wedding gift is one of those responsible for defending the country from enemy incursions?
Not comforting, no, but not that surprising.
Alas, the non-magical people around will have to remain in the dark unless they open it up. Which Duck is forbidding. The king’s bodyguard is concerned that it might be a bomb.
“It’s less alarming than I expected,” Lilah said.
“Duck’s gift?” Sardelle asked before realizing Lilah couldn’t—shouldn’t—know anything about that.
“The temple. I was expecting something garish, and while it’s not exactly modest or modern, it’s vaguely appealing. Karudian-inspired, unless I miss my guess. It looks like a new version of one of the three-thousand-year-old temples the Karudians once built to honor what they believed were dragon gods. I suppose the architect knew that history and thought it would be appropriate.”
“I think Bhrava Saruth just liked the columns.” Sardelle decided not to mention the throne, especially since she hadn’t seen it herself yet.
“They are lovely columns.” Lilah quirked the corner of one mouth. “Will you be expected to perform rites out here? As a dragon’s high priestess.”
“I hope not. It’s not that conveniently located to the house.”
“That being your only objection, of course.”
“Of course.”
Over here, human visitors, Bhrava Saruth’s voice sounded in Sardelle’s mind. In everybody’s mind, judging by all the people who looked into the interior. I have blessings to share.
The dragon had abandoned his human form in favor of his natural one, which was now blocking the view of the musicians. Fortunately, the temple was spacious enough that people wouldn’t struggle to get around him. Fern did prop her fists on her hips and glare at the tail sprawled through one of her flower arrangements.
More and more people did filter into the temple, some to approach Bhrava Saruth with awe, but most to head for the refreshments stand. The mead looked to be the preferred beverage, two to one over the wine.
“Is that dragon driving people to drink?” Lilah asked.
“I haven’t noticed that people need reasons to enjoy free alcohol.”
“This is true. Now I see why so many people wanted to come. It has nothing to do with my cousin’s status as a legend.”
Sardelle didn’t comment on the ever so slight hint of irritation in Lilah’s voice at the last sentence. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that Lilah held a seed of bitterness for Ridge, for the fame he’d achieved through flying and shooting things. She’d always thought that she, with her fifty-odd academic papers published in respected journals, would be the first one in the family to make something of herself.
Actually, I believe they came for the dragon-shaped soaps, Jaxi said.
Hm?
The gift-basket giver hasn’t made his way to you yet, but Fern has put together soap, candle, and weird scrubby bathing sponges for everyone.
Goodness, for everyone? Sardelle wondered if Bhrava Saruth’s blessing had bestowed some extra vitality on the woman. She also wondered what Angulus would think about receiving a basket of bath products.
Well, presumably not you and Ridge.
There must be two hundred people filing off those ferries.
More. Some of the ferries are heading back to collect another batch of people. I believe a lot of the people who received invitations thought that meant they could bring their friends, families, and co-workers too.
“Ms. Terushan?” a man asked.
Sardelle turned and found a man she’d only met briefly standing before her in red and black robes, a priest of the Order of Nendear. He was the one who would bless the wedding and also officiate over it, recording the details of the marriage in the appropriate city logbooks. For some weddings, there were two different people for the job, but this priest could apparently do both. General Ort had recommended the man, who had overseen one of his daughter’s marriages the year before.
“Yes, Priest Dimonon. It’s good of you to come.” Sardelle offered her hand.
He clasped it briefly, but his gaze drifted toward the columns and the high roof of the temple towering next to them. His expression was a touch dyspeptic. “I must admit I have a few reservations about this. When I originally agreed to officiate over your wedding, I was told it would be outdoors at a private residence, not at a… a temple to some fat faux god.”
“If it helps, Ridge refers to it as the dragon’s residence.”
And Therrik calls it a dragon stable, Jaxi put in.
Sardelle assumed the irreverent thought was just for her, but the priest stumbled back and clutched his ch
est.
“Who was that?”
Jaxi! You don’t speak to strangers unless it’s an emergency.
It is an emergency. This pompous priest is thinking of backing out. If he does, Bhrava Saruth will have to marry you, and I don’t think that will count in the eyes of the country. I’ll straighten this fellow out. Oh, wait. I have a better idea.
“We all know he’s not truly a god, Priest Dimonon,” Sardelle said, hoping to sway the man on her own before Jaxi did anything… drastic.
“Nevertheless,” the priest said, looking around nervously, “it’s highly unorthodox and worse, I find it blasphemous. I—”
“Is there a problem over here?” Angulus asked in his deep authoritative voice as he walked up behind the man.
Not for long, Jaxi thought smugly, and Sardelle realized she must have asked Angulus to come over.
Sardelle was tempted to bury her face in her hand. Or maybe bury her whole body under that gift table. Too bad it would likely get her dress dirty.
The priest turned, a surly curl to his lip, and Sardelle thought he would argue with Angulus. But he must not have recognized the voice. His eyebrows flew up, and he dropped to his knee and bowed his head.
“Sire, I am your humble servant, most eager to serve the crown.”
See? Jaxi thought.
“Then you’ll certainly wish to preside over this wedding between an officer who’s risked his life countless times to save Iskandia and a woman who has done the same on numerous occasions this past year. She is a friend to the country and to me.”
The speech warmed Sardelle’s heart, even if Jaxi had told him to come over and give it.
Actually, I told him to come over and wring the priest’s neck until he agreed to do his job. He’s extemporizing.
“Sire, I don’t object to their union. I promise you. It’s simply this unholy place. That dragon—” the priest flung his robed arm toward Bhrava Saruth, “—is a charlatan. Surely, you agree that he is not a god, not like Dlemnor or Nendear, whom I faithfully serve.”
“I agree he’s not a god.” Angulus didn’t mention what he thought of the other gods in the pantheon. “But he, too, has risked his life for Iskandia. We owe him much. Thus, we are humoring him.”
Sardelle suspected those were royal we's and that the priest should feel himself included in them.
“But Sire, what will people think? It’s been renamed Temple Island according to the newspapers. Some of the less educated of your subjects might be fooled and come out here to see him instead of going to a proper temple in town. Such as Mangrith Sanctuary.” He touched his chest, making it clear that was his place of employment.
“That should be good for you,” Ridge said, ambling up beside Angulus. He must have caught the gist of the conversation. “Less work. Shorter hours. Your life is about to get fantastic, Priest Dimonon.” Ridge gave the man his best charming grin, even if the words themselves were sarcastic rather than charming.
Angulus gave him a flat you’re-not-helping look.
“Sir,” the priest said. “Sire. I’m happy to spend long hours at the temple to serve my flock. I—”
“If it helps,” Ridge said, “we’re not actually having the wedding inside the temple. The builders cleared a big flat lot in the back while they were working, and since it’s sunny, my mother had the help set all the chairs up out there.”
“Not inside the temple?” The priest peered through the massive open area, past the columns in the back, and toward the sunny area of raked gravel that was indeed full of rows of chairs.
“Nope. We’ll be out there where Nendear can see us, and we’ll pray He shines His divine light upon us. Come, let me show you the area.” Ridge winked at Sardelle and draped an arm over the priest’s shoulders. “Oh, and the mead station is on the way. Priests are allowed to drink mead, aren’t they?”
“It’s considered a holy beverage by four of the seven gods, yes. Because it comes from honey from bees, and bees are mentioned specifically in the scriptures as divine insects.”
“Perfect. You must be parched after the long ride out here.” Ridge guided the priest toward the beverage tables—tables set up inside the temple—but the man had lost his fight. If not forgotten about it. He and Ridge were still talking about how holy bees and mead were when they wandered out of earshot.
“Sardelle,” Lilah said. “Is it just me, or does it look like my cousin is taking the priest who’s going to officiate over your wedding off to get sloshed?”
It can only improve his personality, Jaxi said.
Lilah blinked, apparently hearing the comment, and Angulus did too. Then he snorted. Jaxi had communicated with him before. Sardelle couldn’t remember if Lilah had experienced her telepathic wit yet.
“I’m trying to decide,” Angulus said, “if I should take it as a slight to my manhood that Zirkander is better at convincing people to do things than I am.”
“Definitely not, Sire,” Lilah said. “It’s not your fault he gets everyone around him drunk in order to convince them that he’s charming.”
“You heard about how the dragon temple came together, did you?” Sardelle smiled at her.
“It’s a little alarming how much of my kingdom wants to drink with him,” Angulus said. “I’m afraid that if I tried his tactic, I’d be disappointed to learn that people are less eager to imbibe in my presence.”
“Only because they want you to think well of them, Sire,” Lilah said. “They want to be buddies with Ridge.”
Judging by the wry twist to Angulus’s lips, Lilah wasn’t doing a good job of bolstering him.
“Ah well,” Angulus said. “There’s no point in envying a man, right? The best thing for me to do would be to put his pilot charms to use for my own good.”
“In what manner?” Sardelle worried that Angulus had some plan in mind that would involve Ridge being kept in the city for extra hours of work. He was already scarce at home, and Sardelle wanted to drag him off for a honeymoon for a few days, even if it only meant going to his little cabin on the lake.
“There’s a hole in the wall of my office that I need repaired. At this point, I wouldn’t even care if the people hammering the wood and laying the plaster were drunk.” Angulus looked toward the stairs and caught sight of Tolemek and Cas heading toward the gift table, Tolemek in a sedate suit and Cas in her dress army uniform. “Dr. Targoson?”
Tolemek and Cas shifted their paths to join them, Cas saluting to Angulus and Tolemek bowing to him.
“Has your lab been sufficiently repaired?” Angulus asked.
“Repairs and cleaning are underway, Sire.”
“How long before you can resume fulfilling orders?”
“Next week, most certainly.”
“Excellent. I regret the loss of the dragon blood, but at least enemies shouldn’t have any reason to target you going forward.”
“Hm,” Tolemek said. “Fewer reasons, perhaps.”
Angulus snorted. “I’ll give you that, but let us hope the rest of the year will be peaceful.”
“I’m amenable to that, Sire.”
“And about those malleable bombs you started working on. Were the prototypes lost or…” Angulus trailed off as he spotted Kaika approaching. “Are you coming to chastise me again for talking about work at a social event?” he asked her.
“No, because this isn’t boring work.” Kaika winked at Cas and nodded at Tolemek, Sardelle, and Lilah. “I want to hear about my prototype bombs.”
“Perhaps I’ll step away to get some of that mead,” Lilah murmured.
“Me too,” Cas said, drawing away from Tolemek as he launched into an explanation of the substances and materials he would need to recreate what he had been working on when he had been kidnapped.
Sardelle murmured a quiet parting and headed off with them.
“Ms. Sardelle,” came a genteel call from the refreshment table. Lady Masonwood stood there with a stuffy-looking gentleman about her age on her arm, his gaze toward th
e high ceiling.
Sardelle hadn’t noticed the gold dragon painted up there when she had been outside. He was standing on a snowy mountain peak, his wings spread wide, as he surveyed the timber and farmlands of Iskandia stretching out below him. She wondered if Bhrava Saruth had magically drawn that himself or if Ridge had brought in a drunken mural artist willing to work for free.
I think the whole temple was constructed for free, Jaxi thought as Sardelle walked toward Lady Masonwood, figuring she should thank her again for the deal on the dress. Ridge convinced everyone to work for beer and godly love.
For someone who complains about paperwork and any tasks that don’t involve cockpits, he’s actually quite efficient at getting things done, Sardelle thought.
Well, he was Bhrava Saruth’s first worshipper in this time. It’s good that he did a good job for his god.
“You look fabulous today, Ms. Sardelle,” Lady Masonwood said, then smiled serenely. “I refer to all of you, not simply that wonderful garment. Or should I call you Mrs. Zirkander, now?”
“I believe we have about an hour until that’s official.” A flutter of anticipation teased Sardelle’s belly as she imagined being called that from here on out.
“Ah, certainly. This is my gentleman friend, Lord Tibby Eagledraw.”
Tibby? Jaxi snickered into Sardelle’s mind. Is that a popular name these days? I would have mocked a nobleman named that in my time.
He met Sardelle’s eyes and nodded, though it had a superior aloofness to it. “This is an interesting wedding venue,” he said.
“It was suitably spacious for our needs, and history tells us that having your wedding overseen by a dragon ensures a lucky future. Assuming it’s not an enemy dragon breathing fire on everyone.”
Eagledraw blinked a few times, not seeming to know what to make of Sardelle’s humor. Though it wasn’t exactly humor. That bit about the desirability of dragons at weddings was in several history books, from back during the dragon-rider era when Iskandia had claimed numerous dragons as allies.
“Dragon fire would ruin your dress,” Lady Masonwood said, “so you should avoid it.”
“Exactly my thought.”
Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Page 30