by Karen Kincy
He haunted her dreams at night. Every night, since she lost him.
“I apologize,” said Wendel, the one here and now. “Let’s not speak of the dead.”
They wandered along the coastline of Kiel, the city’s lighting shattered by the water, like a mirror all in pieces. Like her life right now.
“Look,” Wendel said. “The Peregrine.”
Plowing through the pea-soup clouds, the zeppelin soared over the harbor. The portholes along her gondola shone bright.
“A test flight,” Ardis said. “Maybe for navigation.”
Soon, Konstantin and Himmel would be leaving, too, on their voyage around the world.
“I have an idea.” Wendel had a secret kind of smile.
“What do you propose?”
His eyes glinted. “I already proposed.”
She sighed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Marry me,” he said, and he kissed her in the street.
Her heartbeat stumbled. She stepped away from him and tugged her jacket straight, though her thoughts were still in disarray.
“I don’t have anything to wear.” She glanced at her travel-worn clothes.
“That can easily be remedied.”
God, he was serious. He wanted to get married. Here. Now.
She exhaled in a plume of white. “You want to get married in a church?” She hesitated. “You aren’t Catholic, that’s all I know.”
“Correct.” He flashed his teeth in a grin.
“Should I be marrying a man with so many secrets?”
His grin faltered. “My family is Protestant. I don’t believe in it now.”
“Then let’s not get married in a church.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Wendel, are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.” He looked into her eyes, his own shining in the lamplight. “Are you?”
She nodded, a knot in her throat. “Do you want your family to be there?”
“No. Only you.”
“How does this work?”
“We need to find the local Standesamt, the civil registration office. That’s all it takes to be married in Prussia.”
“But I’m not Prussian.”
“You will be, once you become my wife.”
Her stomach felt bubbly, like she had drunk champagne. She could hardly believe they were having this conversation.
“Will I become a princess?”
He laughed. “Sadly, no.”
“That’s fine with me.”
~
Morning sun slanted into the Hotel am Meer cafe. Konstantin gazed through the windows while drinking coffee. Outside, Fang bounded through snowdrifts, her tongue lolling. Himmel followed in the dog’s pawprints.
“Good morning,” Ardis said.
Konstantin startled, then smiled. “Morning.”
“You look criminally cheerful,” Wendel said. “It’s too close to dawn.”
“Dawn? Hardly.” Konstantin sipped more coffee, his lifeblood.
“Have you seen my mother?” Ardis said.
Konstantin dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Not yet.”
Butterflies flitted through her stomach. She wanted to tell him about their marriage today, but not before telling her mother first.
“Look,” Konstantin said, “there’s Krampus.”
The raven swooped from a lamppost and landed by the dog. Barking, Fang dove into a playful bow. Krampus nipped at her nose.
Wendel grunted. “Better than pigeons.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind.” Wendel took a seat. “You didn’t order breakfast? Only coffee?”
Konstantin blinked owlishly. “Is that a problem?”
Laughing, Ardis grabbed a menu. “Let’s get something that isn’t liquid.”
They ordered bread rolls, marmalade, liverwurst, and Camembert cheese from France. Through the windows, Konstantin beckoned Himmel, who stomped the snow off his boots and brought Fang upstairs to their room.
Just as the waiter delivered their breakfast, Jin Hua sailed into the cafe.
“May I join you?” she said.
“Of course.” Ardis focused on buttering her bread. How should she tell her?
Wendel eyed the window. “Looks like the weather won’t be abysmal today.”
“With any luck,” Jin Hua said.
“A perfect day for–”
Himmel returned to the table, interrupting Wendel, and dropped into the chair nearest Konstantin. “Looks good,” he said.
Jin Hua glanced at Wendel. “You were saying?”
She couldn’t take another second of waiting.
“Mama.” She sucked in a breath. “We’re getting married.”
Jin Hua poured cream into her coffee. “You already told me that.”
“Today.”
Her mother looked her over. “Not in that you aren’t.”
Relief washed over Ardis in a wave. “Will you help me find a dress?”
“I’m your mother.”
“How unexpectedly wonderful!” Konstantin’s cheeks looked pink. “One can only hope I packed clothes suitable for a wedding.”
“Not a wedding,” Ardis said, waving her hand, “just a civil marriage. Simple.”
“Still an occasion requiring some sartorial thought.”
“More importantly,” Wendel said, “we need two witnesses.”
Cradling his coffee, Konstantin gawked at him. “Me?”
“Would you do the honor?” Wendel managed to sound polite.
“So long as you don’t call me ‘archmage’ for a day.”
Wendel coughed. “I can try.”
Ardis bit back a laugh. “Mama, will you be our other witness?”
“Yes.” Jin Hua slathered marmalade on her bread. “But first, we need to buy the dress.”
“Mustn’t get married naked,” Wendel said.
Jin Hua shook her butter knife at him. “You aren’t allowed to come shopping. Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Wendel couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
God, he was handsome. Ardis resisted the urge to stare. Just barely.
Sighing, Jin Hua glanced heavenward. “If only we had time for a wedding banquet.”
“Leave that to me,” Wendel said airily, leaning back in his chair.
Jin Hua squinted at him. “Get eight or nine dishes. Not any other numbers.”
“Why?”
“Luck! Obviously. In Chinese, the word for eight rhymes with prosper, and the word for nine rhymes with long-lasting.”
“Obviously.” He nodded. “Anything else?”
“Fish.”
He snapped his fingers. “That will be easy. Prussians love fish.”
“Lots of fish, for lots of babies.”
A hint of color touched his cheeks. “Of course.”
“Lobster, since red is lucky.”
“And?”
“Rice.” Jin Hua waved her hand imperiously. “Noodles! The longer, the better.”
He laughed. “Should I be taking notes?”
“Probably,” Ardis said, grinning.
“Meet me at the Standesamt at four o’clock. Provided I survive preparations.”
“I have faith in you.”
After breakfast, she and her mother took a taxi to the heart of Kiel, where ladies braved the snowfall to buy the latest fashions.
“You made up your mind,” Jin Hua said. It wasn’t a question.
“I did.”
“When was Wendel born?”
He had told her, once, and it took her a moment to remember. “November 13, 1890.”
“Year of the metal tiger.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Of course.”
“Mama, I don’t care about astrology.”
“You were born in the year of the water dragon, which means your marriage will be passionate but tempestuous at ti
mes.”
Ardis smirked. “Something to look forward to.”
When they stepped from the taxi, a wind blew snowflakes in a spiral. Jin Hua clutched her hat to her hair. She scanned the windows with the patience of a practiced hunter, eyeing shimmering gowns in silk and velvet.
“There,” Jin Hua said.
Ardis didn’t see her mother’s target, but she followed her into the store without question. A bell jingled over the door.
“Good morning,” the shopgirl said. “Can I help you?”
Jin Hua summoned her with a wave of her hand. “This one.” She pointed to a mannequin.
It wasn’t a white dress, which was the color of Chinese funerals, but one in ruby red. Ornate flowers and leaves patterned the cut velvet, which fell to the floor in a slim silhouette. Ardis knew it had to cost a fortune.
“Mama,” she said, “that’s too fancy.”
Jin Hua scoffed. “You only get married once. At least, I hope just once.”
The shopgirl took the red dress down from the mannequin and held it against Ardis. It looked like the right size.
“Would you like to try it on?” the shopgirl said.
“Please,” Ardis said.
In the dressing room, her mother helped her into a corset.
“Where will you go for your honeymoon?” Jin Hua said.
“Honeymoon?” Ardis stared blankly at her reflection in the full-length mirror. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
Jin Hua concentrated on lacing the corset. “China?”
She laughed. “That’s thousands of miles away.”
“I could come with you. Show you around.”
“On our honeymoon?”
Jin Hua scoffed. “After.”
“I won’t convince Wendel.” She licked her lips. “How about Norway?”
“Why?”
“Thorsten is Norwegian. Was.”
Her mother yanked the corset laces a bit too hard. “He told you that?”
“Among other things.” Her stomach wormed with anxiety, like it did before a battle she wasn’t sure she would win.
“If only you had never met him.”
“If only.” She swallowed hard. “Was he really my father?”
Jin Hua met her gaze in the mirror. “Unluckily.”
“There… wasn’t anyone else?”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “He called me a whore?”
“Maybe.”
“He was the only candidate.”
Ardis realized she had been holding her breath, then let it escape as a sigh. “Now I know that I’m half Norwegian.”
“You always were tall. And your hair.” Jin Hua smoothed a tawny lock of it.
“I wish we didn’t have to kill him.”
“Me, too.”
“I wish he hadn’t been an insane murderer who tortured Wendel for a decade.”
Jin Hua arched an eyebrow. “I’m done with the corset.”
Ardis slipped the dress over her head and shimmied it down to her hips. When the bodice gaped at the bust, she held it against herself.
Her mother fastened the clasps, correcting the fit. “Perfect.”
Twenty-One
Late sunlight gilded the Standesamt, transmuting the utilitarian brick building into something hopeful. Ardis arrived with her mother; she hadn’t seen Wendel since breakfast. Shivering, she tugged her jacket tighter.
“God,” she said, “I’m nervous.”
Jin Hua squeezed her hand. “Good nervous or bad nervous?”
“Good.” They crossed the square, nearing the doors. “What if Wendel forgot the rings?”
“Did you ask him to buy rings?”
“No.” She groaned. “Should I have?”
“I’m sure he remembered.”
They stepped into the foyer of the Standesamt and followed the signs to a room marked Trauungen for weddings. When she hesitated on the threshold of the room, the first thing she saw was Wendel staring back at her. He had shaved his jaw and trimmed his hair. In his elegant suit, he looked every inch a prince.
“Ardis,” he said, her name a little husky. “Are you ready?”
“Not quite.” She shrugged off her jacket, revealing her wedding dress.
Near the front of the room, Konstantin sat by Himmel. He leapt to his feet and hurried to take her jacket. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you for agreeing to be a witness,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyes twinkled.
A bespectacled man strode into the room. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a briefcase that he snapped open on the desk.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “I will be your registrar. Are we ready to begin?”
Ardis glanced at Wendel, who nodded. “Yes.”
The registrar straightened his papers. “May the betrothed step forward.”
Her heart pounding, she stood beside Wendel. She breathed in the spicy scent of his aftershave, which reminded her of pines.
“Your names?” said the registrar.
“Wendel von Preussen.” He looked so solemn, she was tempted to laugh.
Should she use her real name? Or the one on her passport?
She swallowed hard. “Ardis Black.”
“Your two witnesses?” the registrar said.
“Konstantin Falkenrath and Zhu Jin Hua.” She said her mother’s name the Chinese way, with the surname first.
The registrar’s eyebrows arched ever so slightly. “Spelling?”
“Here.” Ardis bent over the desk and found the relevant form. “Let me.” Hands sweaty, she filled in the correct lines.
“Thank you,” the registrar said. “Next, I require the names of your parents.”
“Jin Hua is my mother,” she said.
“Your father?”
Her stomach plummeted until Wendel clasped her hand. “Dead,” she said.
The registrar pushed his spectacles up his nose. “May I have his name?”
She took a deep breath. “Thorsten Magnusson.”
If the registrar recognized the name, his face revealed nothing. He jotted it down along with the rest of their vital information. After they gave him their birthplaces and dates of birth, he had filled most of the lines on the form.
“Forgive the indelicate question,” he said, “but are you an illegitimate child?”
He was looking at Ardis. Heat burned her face. “Yes.”
“Then you require only your mother’s permission.”
Ardis translated this for Jin Hua, who signed the form without complaint.
“Then,” said the registrar, “that concludes the required paperwork. Ardis Black, will you take this man to be your husband?”
Her blood rushed through her ears. “Yes.” This was all happening so fast.
“Wendel von Preussen, will you take this woman to be your wife?”
He met her gaze with glimmering eyes. “Yes.”
“By virtue of these vows, you are now lawfully joined as husband and wife.”
Already? This took German efficiency to the next level.
“Wait.” Wendel reached into his jacket and took out two golden rings. He slipped one onto her finger. “Your turn.”
Blushing, she did as she was told. “Right.”
“Now we’re married.”
She smiled. “Thank God.”
Before she could say another word, Wendel swept her into a breathtaking kiss. She gasped against his lips. When her knees melted, he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her against him. Distantly, she heard applause.
Her face on fire, she broke away. Everyone was clapping. Even her mother.
Laughing, she shook her head. “Show’s over.”
Jin Hua hugged her tight. “Bǎi nián hǎo hé.” A hundred good years together.
“I hope it’s not that long,” Ardis teased, though she understood the traditional wish.
Konstanti
n hesitated before shaking Wendel’s hand. The two of them locked gazes, hopefully not trying to crush each other.
“Congratulations,” Konstantin said.
“Thank you, arch–” Wendel cleared his throat before grinning. “Falkenrath.”
“Acceptable.”
Himmel shook each of their hands in turn. “Best wishes.”
When Konstantin hugged Ardis, her head knocked against his shoulder. “Are you sure you can’t travel the world with us?”
“Well…”
His laugh vibrated through her. “If we part ways, I will miss you.”
She rubbed her cheek, quickly, before anyone saw the tear betraying her. “I still need to return my golden edelweiss pin.”
“Nonsense,” Konstantin said. “I’m not an archmage anymore. Keep it.”
“Nobody leave yet!” Her mother clapped her hands. “Not before the dinner banquet.”
“Why, of course,” Wendel said, with a brilliant smile.
Ardis returned her husband’s smile. “We dodged a bullet,” she whispered.
He arched an eyebrow. “How so?”
“The civil marriage was short and sweet.”
She remembered courtesans gossiping about Chinese wedding traditions, though she didn’t have any bridesmaids to prank the groom, and she doubted they could find the correct lucky foods for the tea ceremony.
He arched his eyebrows. “Less time wasted before our wedding night.”
“Why am I even surprised?”
~
Their taxi arrived at Zum Rosengarten, a half-timbered restaurant with diamond-paned windows. The five of them hurried through the thickening snowfall and ducked into the warmth. It smelled like a dream, a perfume of simmering fish and meat, baking bread, and sizzling onions. They took a table by a crackling fireplace.
“This looks rather medieval,” Jin Hua said, eyeing the place with suspicion.
Wendel slapped Konstantin on the shoulder. “We made an excellent choice.”
Konstantin arched his eyebrows. “I suggested an upscale French restaurant.”
“French? On my wedding night?” Wendel pretended to shudder. “Impossible.”
Himmel smoothed his mustache, not quite hiding a smile. “This should be good.”
Waiters bustled around the table, delivering bowls and spoons, before at last bringing a tureen of steaming-hot soup.
“Hochzeitssuppe,” Wendel said.