by Lucia Ashta
“Who? Marcelo?”
“My future brother in law, yes.”
“You barely know him,” I said.
“Agreed, but I’ve seen him in those moments when a man reveals his true colors.”
That was true. I forgot that Gertrude had absorbed everything that happened around her when she’d been the cat Mina. She’d seen Marcelo fighting for the lives of those he loved, when he’d sacrificed himself for the good of others.
Even so, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “You only like him because he looks so much like Brave.”
“Brave, my darling?” Grand-mère said, immediately interested.
Gertrude’s cheeks colored and she elbowed me. “Come on, let’s get you married before you can cause any more trouble.”
By the time we arrived in the entryway, I felt as if I were floating on air. It all seemed like a dream.
All the people I’d learned to care for the most surrounded us, happy, determined smiles on their faces. We’d celebrate the joys whenever we could. Despite what we’d all been through, no one there was willing to cower before the uncertainties of the future or the weight of the past. I could tell, it was written as plain as letters across all their expressions.
They were all there, my brave, magical friends, human and otherwise.
But there was one very important person missing.
“Where’s Marcelo?” I asked.
“He’s not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, Lady Clara,” Sir Lancelot said, flying toward me. “Don’t you know that?” If a pygmy owl could have an impish glint to his big yellow eyes, this one did.
“Well don’t just stand there,” he said, already flying out the front door. “Follow me.”
So I followed Sir Lancelot, and so did Grand-mère and her brother, Gustave, and Gertrude and Brave, and Mathieu and Sylvia, who I was content to see fully recovered, waddling along in that endearing way firedrakes had to walk when they were purposefully designed for grace in flight. And Mordecai and Albacus followed too, with Maggie behind them, who didn’t look nearly as surprised as I’d imagined she would at following a translucent spirit out the door.
As I followed Sir Lancelot over to a garden at the side of the castle, where every plant was in vibrant bloom, I sent a wish on the wind. That Samuel, the boy who’d first opened my heart to hope that I might find love in marriage, might have found peace and contentment of some kind within whatever marriage his parents forced on him. Samuel had possessed a kind heart, I prayed that might be enough to provide him with a good life.
Though I was well aware of the cruelties of the world, many of which my parents had tried to inflict on me. Samuel was Winston’s older brother, and Winston was still out there.
At least, I thought he was. The last any of us had seen of him was when he retreated into Washur Castle. We hadn’t heard anything of him since. Was it too much to hope that the twisted man who was my former fiancé might find the way to free himself from the darkness and hate that seemed to consume him?
However improbable a peaceful future was for Winston, I wished for it then. Today was a day for hope and good wishes. With the threats of Winston, Count Washur, and Mirvela faded into the past, I felt generous.
This day, I’d wish the best for everybody. Because beneath the darkness and the fears and the mistakes, didn’t we all deserve it? In the end, we were all only doing the best we could manage, even if it was misguided.
Thoughts of the past vanished entirely, because there, illuminated in the brilliant light of the sun, stood the man who represented everything good about my future.
There was Marcelo, facing me fully, waiting for me as it seemed he’d been waiting all his life.
It was outside of etiquette, but I didn’t care one bit.
I gathered my skirts in my hands, and took off at a run, glad that I’d miffed Maggie by insisting I wear the elven shoes Marcelo fashioned me.
I was nothing like other women. I was, however, the perfect one for Marcelo.
I landed in his embrace.
Chapter 32
Our marriage ceremony wasn’t anything Mother or Father would’ve considered official. It was a good thing that what they thought of my life no longer mattered.
Our ceremony was binding in all the ways that mattered to Marcelo and me, and also perhaps the most unique one in all history.
Marcelo wanted Mordecai and Albacus, the two men who’d done so much to shape him into the man he was, to officiate the ceremony. I’d agreed with the idea, and so we had a wizard, who’d recently celebrated his three hundred and eighteenth birthday, and the specter of his dead brother, standing in front of Marcelo and me to the backdrop of a dozen rose bushes.
The breeze, alive with smells of the sea, whisked around us as Albacus was saying, “Do you, Marcelo Fabiano Domenico, Lord of Bundry and Irele, take this woman, Clara of Irele, to be your wife, to love and honor, to hold and care for, to respect and do magic with, for the rest of your lives?”
“Those aren’t the words,” Mordecai whispered.
Albacus looked straight ahead at Marcelo and me, but whispered back, “They’re the ones that matter.”
“But this needs to be official,” Mordecai protested.
“The heart knows what it means.”
“But—”
Marcelo spoke before the brothers could continue. He took both my hands and stared straight into my eyes, straight into my soul. “Clara, I love everything about you. I promise to honor and love you, to respect you and care for you, to have adventures and a full life with you. I promise to do magic with you,” he said on a smile, “and to teach you and learn from you. To always be honest with you and to always see you for the beautiful spirit that you really are and to remind you of the powerful woman and witch you are when you need reminding. I promise to hold you through the cold of the night, and to be at your side to face any obstacles.
“I could go on and on, Clara, about all the things I think of you and want to do with you, to you…”
My heartbeat picked up its already fast past.
“But I just want to marry you already. I wish to have you as my wife, will you do me the honor of having me as your husband?”
My heart stilled completely, but I managed to get my answer out, because I too wanted to marry this man already.
“I will. I do. Yes.”
Albacus started, “Then under the authority of the four elements—”
“The five elements,” Mordecai interrupted.
“The five elements,” Albacus continued, “and under the authority of the love in your hearts, you are now husband and wife. You may…”
But Marcelo was already kissing me.
“Kiss the bride,” Mordecai mumbled. “See, you botched it all up, brother. They didn’t even wait for us to do anything.”
“Since when has Marcelo or Clara waited for us to do much of anything?” Albacus said.
“Well, you have a point there, I’ll admit to that one.”
And that’s the last I heard the brothers say for a good while.
I lost myself to Marcelo’s kiss and to all the sweet promises that carried on his lips, promises we’d be able to fulfill as soon as he whisked me away to our marital chambers.
He pulled his lips away from mine, just for now, and I instantly wanted more of him.
He took my hand in his and his promise ring glowed brighter than it ever had before. I’d married the man I loved in a rose garden, while the inside of the band of my ring had roses engraved, as if Marcelo had known this was what would happen all along.
The serpent of wisdom and the dragon of magic leapt to life across my finger, bonding not only Marcelo and me to each other, but bonding us to a path of magic and continued learning.
We weren’t just husband and wife, we were wizard and witch—and damn fine ones.
“Come on, darlings,” Grand-mère said. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Another one?” I said, thoroughly enjoying
all the ones I’d had so far.
“A great one, ma cherie,” she said and led the way at a pace that proved she was unlike any other grandmother.
She tore across the rose garden, skirted the front of the castle, entered and took the steps of the stairwell two at a time. We all ran or flew to keep up with her.
Halfway there, I realized where she was going, but I still didn’t realize why.
When Grand-mère flung open the door to the roof of the castle, I still didn’t understand.
And then, all of a sudden, I understood everything.
“How did you manage to get him on the roof without any of us knowing?” I asked. It wasn’t like a dragon the size of Humbert was easy to disguise. He was gigantic and loud and fierce.
“Oh I have my way, darling, don’t I, Gustave?”
“That you do,” my great uncle said, stepping forward to greet Humbert. “He’s as magnificent as you said he was.”
“Oui,” she said. “He’s gorgeous, aren’t you, Humbert?”
But a quick look behind me verified that the one who was most amazed by Grand-mère’s feat was Mordecai, who beamed at the witch who was only a fraction of his age and acted even younger than that.
“So you just wanted to show us Humbert?” I hedged. I suspected it was more than this, but I didn’t think I was ready for it.
“Of course not, chérie. Humbert is going to deliver you to the kind of adventure appropriate for the honeymoon of sorcerers.”
“Honeymoon on a dragon?” Marcelo said.
“Oui,” Grand-mère said, matter of factly.
“Sounds perfect,” Marcelo said, leading me by the hand toward the very large, very terrifying-looking dragon covered in sparkling scarlet scales.
He stopped next to Humbert to ask me, “Are you up for it?” He wanted to go, but it was up to me. Besides, it was I who’d have to do the dragon maneuvering, not him. I was the one who’d inherited some of Grand-mère and Gustave’s skills with magical creatures.
I deliberated. It was one thing to touch a dragon and walk by him when trying to slip into Washur Castle, it was an entirely different thing to fly off on one across an ocean.
“You can do it, cherie,” Grand-mère said. “Remember, you have merblood just like Gustave and me. You can do what we can, you only have to believe in yourself.”
I believed. I believed in love and in magic, and most of all, I’d learned to believe in myself.
“Let’s go,” I said to Marcelo.
My husband, the gentleman, lifted me, adorned in silk and jewels, onto Humbert’s back and then hoisted himself behind me. “Come on, witchy wife of mine,” he whispered so only I could hear him, “lead me wherever your heart takes you.”
And with that, and a thought that I realized Humbert could sense, Humbert spread his gigantic scarlet wings. Our friends ran to take cover.
I heard Sir Lancelot fretting and smiled. “This dragon, he just doesn’t know how to be mindful of my size. Imagine me, a pygmy, and this dragon, the fright of it.”
I’d miss my friends, the pygmy owl especially, but we’d be back—after an adventure or three.
Fly, my friend, fly, I thought, and Humbert took off with a grace that should’ve been impossible with his size.
But nothing was impossible, not really.
The ring at my finger and the five-petal knot in my heart center glowed with the certainty of it until we were little more than specks across a sea.
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ABOUT SPIRIT OF THE SPELL, a Witching World story:
Some things are worth dying for. Others are worth living for again.
When Damien dies, Oliana is devastated. It’s understandable, he is her first love. She’ll cry and grieve and, eventually, she’ll move on, as she must—at least, that’s what an ordinary girl would do.
But Oliana isn’t ordinary. She’s a witch. And she isn’t going to accept Damien’s death without a fight.
With the power of the four elements at her disposal, she can do more than challenge death. The question is, what is she willing to sacrifice to get him back?
ABOUT MOWAB RIDER, a Planet Origins story:
I’ll go anywhere to find Princess Ilara. Even to the Wilds—where people disappear and don’t come back.
The rebels are resisting King Oderon’s rule. I don’t blame them, I’d resist too if I could get away with it.
But the rebels don’t know that. They’ll kill me and never ask questions. Especially now that they’re united by a rebel who can tame the mowabs, the fiercest animals of all Origins.
Anyone who can ride mowabs must be as beastly as they are. Good thing Dolpheus has my back. We’ll need every one of his skills and all of mine to escape the Mowab Rider with our lives.
Acknowledgments
I’d write no matter what, because telling stories is my passion, but the following people make creating worlds (and life) a joy. I’m eternally grateful for the support of my beloved, James, my mother, Elsa, and my three daughters, Catia, Sonia, and Nadia. They’ve always believed in me, even before I published a single word. They help me see the magic in the world around me, and more importantly, within.
I’m thankful for every single one of you who’ve reached out to tell me that one of my stories touched you in one way or another, made you smile or cry, or kept you up long past your bedtime. You’ve given me reason to keep writing.
Books by Lucía Ashta
THE WITCHING WORLD (YA fantasy)
Magic Awakens
The Five-Petal Knot
The Merqueen
The Witching World Omnibus, Books 1-3
The Ginger Cat
The Scarlet Dragon
Mermagic
Spirit of the Spell - FREE for joining my Readers Group
PLANET ORIGINS (Space fantasy)
Planet Origins
Original Elements
Holographic Princess
Planet Origins Omnibus, Books 1-3
Purple Worlds
Planet Sand
Holographic Convergence *
Mowab Rider - FREE for joining my Readers Group
THE LIGHT WARRIORS (Visionary fantasy)
Beyond Sedona *
Beyond Prophecy *
Beyond Amber *
Beyond Arnaka *
The Prophecy of Arnaka
The Secret of Namana
A Betrayal of Time
Whispers of Pachamama
“Daughter of the Wind”
“Immortalium” *
The Unkillable Killer *
(* coming soon)
About the Author
Lucía Ashta, a former attorney and architect, is an Argentinian-American author who lives in Sedona with her beloved and three daughters. She published her first story (about an unusual Cockatoo) at the age of eight, and she’s been at it ever since.
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Lucía on the web:
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Planet Origins
Clara and Marcelo’s adventures have drawn to an end (at least for now), but I have lots of other books, all magical and adventurous. Try my space fantasy series!
Turn the page for a preview of Planet Origins.
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The threat of death stares everyone in the face at one time or another, though it doesn’t usually come in the form of an eyeball. This one eyeball was swiveling furiously, reminding me of the many reasons that I didn’t normally let the King see me.
Even if he hadn’t noticed me, I’d seen the King many times, always from afar; I allowed the masses to conceal me with their fervor. In the current political environment, the King—always guarded—made regular public appearances. It was important that the people of Planet Origins—Planet O for short—remember that he was still in control. It was important for the King to remember that the people of Planet O still wanted him as their king as they’d wanted his ancestors before him.
I lied and told myself that this latest near death experience might have gifted the King with uncommon patience and understanding. His legendary sharp mind and quick instincts to punish might have dulled since the attack that left him temporarily bedridden. Comforted by these lies, I took one step forward, out of the shadows that clung to the walls of the royal infirmary.
That one gray eye honed in on me as devastatingly as an asteroid on an inevitable trajectory predicted to bring terrible destruction. It undressed me, doing away with all pretense as quickly as a man could undress a woman with his sight. Already, my comforts were revealed for the falsehoods they were.
With my next step toward the King’s prostrate form, I could feel the King’s eye on me as if it were a hand, already attempting to throttle me for a sin worse than any against his empire. I would have turned around right then, no matter what I’d resolved to do, but I couldn’t. Retreat wasn’t an option. Not when this was about her. I couldn’t turn away from her.
I stepped directly into the light that filtered from the glass bed the King lay on. I bowed from a respectable distance. “Good morning, your Majesty.” My voice squeaked at the start.
“You may rise,” a voice said from the corner. I swiveled. The King’s presence was imposing, even in his debilitated condition. I hadn’t noticed the man whose job appeared to be to interpret the King’s subtle gestures and thus to conserve his energy for healing. Ordinarily, I noticed every detail of my surroundings. I tried to shake off the realization that I wasn’t as sharp as I normally was.