“Beautiful,” she said, and behind her the other women murmured their assent. “The North hasn’t seen such a bride since his Highness’s mother was wed. He will be pleased.”
No one, of course, had bothered to ask whether I would be pleased. Perhaps my continued stony silence throughout these preparations told Beranne all she needed to know about my own feelings regarding the situation. Truly, the whole process had taken on the feeling of a bad dream, as if my nightmares of the evening before had bled over into the daylight hours.
Surely I must awaken soon.
Something in Beranne’s dark eyes softened, and she reached out and made a minute adjustment to one of the curls hanging over my shoulder. “It is time,” she said quietly.
I didn’t bother to argue. Nothing would stay this execution, so I might as well go to it with my chin held high. After all, was Kadar not marrying me because I was a Sedassa? I would not whimper and weep and plead — at least, not in his presence.
She opened the door, and the guards waiting outside stepped out of the way so I could exit the suite. As I descended the stairs, they fell in behind Beranne and me, and formed a silent escort as we moved through the castle’s main corridor and on into a wing I had not yet seen. Here the ceilings were loftier, with carvings of leaves tracing delicate spirals around each doorway. Here also were concentrated clusters of onlookers who whispered and watched as we swept by.
I did not bother to decipher the content of those whispers. Did they know I had tried to escape, that I was an unwilling participant in this farce? Or did they whisper merely because I was a novelty, an unknown who had somehow snatched away the matrimonial prize they had desired for their sisters or their daughters? Somehow I did not care to find out.
My little party approached a pair of enormous doors, easily three times the height of a man and carved with more of the twining leaf patterns, this time accented by the graceful forms of leaping deer. Outside those doors stood four men-at-arms, two of whom reached out to open them in a single controlled motion.
“You must go on alone,” Beranne whispered in my ear. She stepped to one side and gave me an encouraging nod.
I swallowed, and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, even though each movement was so ponderous I might as well have been walking through thick mud. My steps dragging, I entered a great hall, one filled on either side with those who must constitute the upper echelons of Northern society. A runner of dark green covered the grey stone floor between those watching ranks; I knew this because I kept my attention focused on it as I inched my way forward to the dais at the end of the hall and the man who waited for me there.
How I wanted to run, to gather up those gleaming skirts and flee on my silver-shod feet as if death itself followed me. But there was no escape, not with guards at every door, not with all the nobles of the land watching me with curious eyes. No, I would have to play this game to the end.
Kadar was not alone on the dais; an older man in the dark-grey robes of a disciple of Inyanna stood there with him. While I was a follower of the One, I had studied the religions of the continent and knew a little of their ways. The priests of Inyanna, goddess of the hearth and home, presided over weddings and naming ceremonies and most of life’s important way-posts…save one. The acolytes of Thrane, lord of the land beyond death, were the ones who guided the souls of the departed to the next world.
This world and its concerns were quite enough for me at the moment, however. I grasped my glinting skirts in both hands and mounted three shallow steps, and paused at last next to Kadar. His face as he glanced down at me was impassive. Probably he had not yet forgiven me my escape attempt.
He nodded at the priest, who stepped forward. I noticed that he held a length of plain white linen in his hands.
“Lark Sedassa,” he said.
I had no idea how I was supposed to respond, and so only nodded mutely.
“Give him your hand,” Kadar instructed. A curl at the corner of his lip told me what he thought of my ignorance.
Not that I cared. While I had studied something of the religions of the continent, their respective marriage rituals had not been included in my reading. I certainly had never thought I would require such knowledge.
Although I hated to do as Kadar said, I knew I had no choice. I raised my left hand, and at once the priest draped one end of the linen strip across my wrist, then brought it underneath and around the other side so it rested lightly against my skin like a loose bandage. Detached as though gazing at someone else’s appendage, I noted that my hand shook as if I were afflicted with palsy.
“Kadar Arkalis, Mark of North Eredor,” the priest intoned.
Kadar raised his right hand and held it directly above my left. The priest then took the loose end of the linen and wrapped it around Kadar’s wrist, binding the two of us together. The significance of the gesture was not lost on me. His hand was heavy against mine, although the pressure of it did ease my trembling somewhat.
“The goddess bears witness to your joining. As you are one now with hands fast, may you be so in all the days of your lives. This bond is a holy one, not to be taken lightly.” Was it my imagination, or did the priest’s pale-grey eyes narrow at me for a moment? Perhaps Kadar had been telling tales after all. After an infinitesimal pause, the priest said, “What the goddess has brought together, no power on this earth can sunder. Honor her, and honor one another.”
Not bloody likely, I thought with sudden viciousness. How I wished I had the courage to tear that ridiculous piece of linen from my arm and let the watching company know that I didn’t think much of a goddess who would sanction a forced union such as this.
The priest then unwrapped the linen, and brought it to his forehead and his mouth before gesturing that I should do the same. I lifted the fabric to my lips and saw with some satisfaction as I drew it away that the cosmetics Beranne had applied earlier left a reddish stain.
Kadar repeated the movements. If he noticed the lip print on the sacred cloth, he gave no sign. Then he handed the linen back to the priest, who folded it with utmost care into a small triangle before placing it in a small brazier that stood off to one side. At once the fabric blazed up and emitted a billow of pale grey smoke that smelled of some sort of aromatic wood. Cedar, perhaps.
“A good omen,” the priest said, smiling. His teeth were crooked but very white. “Your union will be blessed with passion. So let it be.”
Wild laughter bubbled to my lips, but I had no chance to let it out, for Kadar had grasped my hands in his and turned me to face him. “Try not to bite,” he murmured, even as he bent his head toward mine and pressed his lips against my mouth.
Truth be told, he took me by enough surprise that I merely stood there, staring up at him. The kiss lasted for only a second or two, most likely just long enough to satisfy convention. Then he turned me toward the watching nobles.
“I give you my consort!” he announced.
As one they surged to their feet and began to clap. From various points in the hall, the more boisterous members of the crowd hallooed and whistled, some even stamping their feet. Apparently Northerners did not tend to stand on ceremony.
Still holding my hand, Kadar led me down the steps and through the noisy ranks of onlookers. I concentrated on keeping my chin high, but something in me seemed to break as I fully comprehended for the first time what that firm grip on my fingers meant.
There had been no last-minute rescues, no divine intervention. For better or worse, I was now wed to Kadar Arkalis.
* * *
Of course I would not be allowed to retire quietly. No, a great feast and celebration was held in the castle’s main hall, where I found myself marveling a little at the household staff’s ability to put together such an important event in so short an amount of time. Perhaps by the loftier Sirlendian standards the feast might have been considered meager, consisting as it did of only three courses, and there was little in the way of flowers, although garlands of
autumn leaves decked the high table and the doorways and windows. Still, all in all it was quite a respectable show.
I sat next to Kadar and forced myself to smile and nod as well-wishers approached to offer their congratulations. While I wanted nothing more than to plead a headache and disappear, I knew the Mark would never accept such an excuse. At least he was so occupied in responding to the outpouring of felicitations that he paid scant attention to me. As was to be expected, I supposed. Now that he had accomplished his nefarious goal, I probably held little interest for him.
The food might have been good, but I would have been hard-pressed to say for sure. It all tasted like sawdust. And although the wine tempted me with its promise of easy oblivion, I forced myself to take only measured sips. I would never forgive myself if I somehow missed a chance at escape simply because I was too intoxicated to recognize it at the time.
Escape. What a foolish, vain thought. For now I was Kadar Arkalis’ wife, and he had every right to come after me and imprison me in his castle. Even if I should somehow find the means to slip away, any freedom I gained would be short-lived at best. I was his property now.
I thought then of the doomed Soraya, Duchess of Donrath, who had flung herself from the highest tower of her husband’s keep the night of her own forced marriage. Hers made a suitably tragic tale, perfect for songs and poetry, but I knew I would not have the strength to do such a thing. No, I would meekly lower my head and allow Kadar to…
A tremor passed over me, and I reached for my wine glass and took a bigger swallow than I had intended. I knew something of the relations between men and women, since my mother, in her particular no-nonsense way, had been rather frank on the subject. No blissful, girlish ignorance for me. I knew all too well what awaited me once this feast was over.
At least my doom would be somewhat delayed, as the festivities showed no sign of abating once the meal was done. No, the dishes were cleared and the tables whisked away, while a group of musicians took their places at one end of the hall.
“If you will allow me?” Kadar said, extending one hand.
As I could hardly refuse, I laid my hand on his and allowed him to lead me to a spot a few paces away from the musicians. I noted that there were viols and drums and an odd, flat device with strings stretched across it and which its master appeared to manipulate with a small set of hammer-like instruments.
The wedding guests fell into place below us, forming a long line with men on one side and women on the other. Indeed, there were so many who wished to dance that a second set formed a few yards away. I watched in some trepidation, as the dances I had learned back home from my friend Maris’s dancing master were of the Sirlendian style, which meant they were performed in circles, not in lines. No doubt I would make a complete fool of myself trying to keep up with the unfamiliar steps.
“They always start out slowly,” Kadar told me. His eyes glinted with amusement…at my discomfiture, no doubt. “The musicians know they must needs give the guests time to digest.”
“Thank goodness.”
After a bit of preliminary plucking and tuning, the musicians struck the obligatory chord for everyone to honor their partners, and then launched into the first piece. It appeared Kadar had been telling the truth — this particular dance was slow and stately, with a good deal of walking and a few circles with the two couples in each set holding hands, but nothing more complicated than that. Once I understood how our progression down the hall worked, there really was nothing to it.
The other couples around us laughed and chattered, but I remained silent throughout the piece. Perhaps Kadar and the rest of the dancers attributed my taciturn behavior to my unfamiliarity with the dance…perhaps not. At the moment I did not much care one way or another. And as Kadar did not seem inclined to press me for conversation, I managed to survive the dance without embarrassing myself.
Afterward he led me back to my seat at the high table, the only table that had not been cleared away to make room for dancing. ”You may rest here — it is known that you are not familiar with our dances, and so I think you will be able to sit quietly.”
“And you?” I inquired. Certainly I was in no mood for celebrating, but I also didn’t much relish the thought of sitting alone the whole night.
“Oh, I’ll come reclaim you from time to time,” he replied, purposely misunderstanding me. “But I intend to make merry this evening.”
With that he left me and went to claim as his partner a pretty, pert young woman with curls almost as wild as mine and a brilliant smile one could see from halfway across the hall. I doubted she was one of the young noblewomen whose matrimonial hopes had been dashed when Kadar took me as his bride, or she wouldn’t have been grinning so broadly. But she looked to be a lively partner, one far more appealing than I knew I was at the moment.
Of course no one approached me, and so I had to pretend it suited me to merely watch the dancers. The next piece proved to be more spirited, with couples weaving and twisting in and around each other as they progressed through the line. Most likely I would have been lost if I had attempted such a thing, and I tried to tell myself that being a wallflower was not so bad. For some reason I kept looking to see with whom Kadar danced next, whether she was pretty, and whether he seemed to be enjoying himself. In every case, the answer to both those questions seemed to be yes, and I fought a losing battle to keep a scowl from my face.
Sitting and watching also meant that I had little to do save take small sips from my goblet and try not to think about what would happen once the music was over and the guests had departed. The food I had managed to eat rested uneasily in my stomach. I swallowed against the sour taste that rose in my throat and wished to be someplace very far away.
At length Kadar either decided to take pity on me, or perhaps he realized that to leave his new bride sitting alone for too long would invite questions. He approached and said merrily, “Are you rested enough to try the next one? I will warn you that it is rather lively.”
“I’m sure I can manage,” I told him. “Even though I do confess that I am rather weary.”
The dark brows lifted. “Weary? After only one dance?”
“I fear I did not sleep well last night.”
He said nothing, but gave me one hard glance before taking my hand in his and leading me out to the new line that had begun to form. To my surprise, he did not bother to claim his place at the head of the line but fell into position halfway down.
“Remember,” he said. “Lively.”
“I’ll be fine,” I replied and lifted my chin, mentally vowing to acquit myself well even if it killed me.
And truly, when the dance began I thought Kadar must have been making a joke at my expense, for the steps seemed simple enough, merely basic movements right and left and a few one-hand turns. But then we finished the first verse, and the musicians increased the tempo of the song. Just a little, but enough for me to realize that by the end of the dance I would have to be moving very quickly indeed.
I shot Kadar a glare of annoyed comprehension, and he grinned back at me. After that I had no time for remonstrances, because I was far too occupied with not falling over my own feet — or those of the other women who shared the line with me — to tell him what I thought of his little joke. Several times I bumped into my neighbors, but they did not seem to mind and only laughed at the silliness of it all until I found myself laughing along with them. By the time the dance was over, I was both gasping and giggling, and did not feel overmuch inclined to struggle when Kadar took me by the waist and led me off the dance floor.
“Ah, so you can smile,” he said, after helping himself to a reviving draught of wine. “I had begun to wonder whether your continued dour expression was an attempt to hide missing teeth. I am glad to see I was wrong.”
Missing — “My teeth are all very well, I do assure you,” I retorted. “But perhaps you should have checked that before you brought me here.”
“Perhaps. Then again,” he added,
looking thoughtful, “I fear if I had attempted to open your mouth to inspect those lovely teeth of yours, you most likely would have bitten my fingers off.”
Despite myself, I smiled. The silly dance had worked like a tonic on my mood, and if I just concentrated on the lively music in the background and the quite fine vintage in my cup, I could almost forget the reason why I was here in the first place.
I didn’t want to admit it, but it seemed that some part of me enjoyed the verbal sparring with Kadar. It reminded me of the practice swordplay rounds back in the courtyard of my home, when Thani and my father used to spend hours trading blows. Just before Thani had departed for Sirlende to complete his training in Lord Senric’s household, my brother and my father had been evenly matched, and most of the time there never seemed to be a clear victor. Neither of them seemed to be bothered by the situation overmuch, and somehow I didn’t mind the back and forth with Kadar quite as much as I probably should have.
“Another smile!” Kadar exclaimed. “Truly, a momentous occasion. I must have the scribes make a note of it.”
“I’m sure they’ve been diligently recording all of the day’s great activities.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I had not said them at all, for Kadar’s expression grew thoughtful. He gazed down at me for a moment, then looked away to the revelers, who had continued with their dancing and drinking and talking. No one seemed to be paying us much attention.
“But this day, like all others, must come to an end at last.” He set down his wine goblet and reached for my hand. I almost snatched it away and stopped myself just in time. Despite my reluctance to face what must inevitably come next, I did not want to make a scene.
And so he led me from the hall, away from the light and color and music. The corridors of the castle seemed ominously dark to me in contrast, for low candles burned in sconces at large intervals, thus providing barely enough illumination to show the way.
I could not yet pretend any great familiarity with the building’s layout, but at length I did recognize the corridor through which he led me, as well as the wide shallow steps leading up to the double doors of Kadar’s suite. Two guards stood there, and one opened the right-hand door for us.
Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) Page 6