“I don’t need cosmetics. They make me look like a clown. I want to look like myself.”
“Trust me, dear, you won’t look like a clown when Eleanora finishes with you. This is so you won’t look washed out from a distance, which is how most of your guests will see you. From a distance, that is, not washed out. Just hold still and I promise you won’t regret it.”
Alison had to admit the finished product still looked like her, only more so. She turned her head to see herself from both sides. “I look good,” she said.
“You look magnificent, dear. Oh, I am so pleased to have you for a daughter! Just between the two of us, Anthony is lucky you were willing to give him a second chance. I really am so pleased, my dear.”
“No, I’m the lucky one,” Alison said, and had a flash of a memory of that moment when she’d walked away from him on that tower, and pushed it to the back of her mind. They were neither of them the same person they’d been that night. She was marrying him in a few hours. The rush of joy she felt at the thought outshone the pleasure her book gave her the way the sun outshone a candle.
“Now for your hair. Oh, my dear, it is lovely, but I imagine it’s a trial to you. So much frizz if you don’t care for it properly. Justine, if you wouldn’t mind—thank you—Justine is an expert and she will tame that mass of locks for you in no time.”
Justine was, in fact, an expert, and Alison started plotting how to get her away from the Dowager when she saw how her skinny, long, frizzy ringlets became smooth under the woman’s hands. The Dowager’s short hair certainly didn’t require much maintenance. Who knew her curls could look like this? Justine arranged it high on her head and allowed the trailing ends to fall over one shoulder. Alison turned her head and felt the arrangement move not at all. She ran her fingers through the cascade and was stopped by the Dowager’s sharp rap on her knuckles. “Don’t touch, dear, you don’t want to damage the look before the wedding.”
They laced her into her corset. Eleanora turned out to have remarkably strong hands, and Alison wondered if she might faint from being unable to breathe. The skirt and bodice, pale green and embroidered all over with seed pearls, provoked exclamations of admiration from everyone, including Alison when she saw herself in the mirror. Anthony would love it. They would make a beautiful couple, walking down the center of the coronation hall.
“Oh, my dear,” the Dowager sighed, “you look every inch a princess. Turn around and let me look at you. Lucille, adjust that petticoat, the one hanging down just the tiniest bit too low. That’s better.”
“Am I?” Alison asked. “A princess?”
“Not by title, though the rulers of Veribold and Eskandel will treat you as such. Unless Anthony becomes king, you will simply be Lady Alison North. I was Lady Rowenna North for years before Sylvester took the Crown.”
“I think the title of Royal Librarian is more to my taste, anyway.” It had never occurred to Alison that the Dowager had once stood in her place. More hesitantly, she asked, “Should I call you Rowenna, now?”
The Dowager’s eyes filled with tears. “If you like…that is, I would dearly love it if you would call me Mother…but I know your own dear mother will always—”
Alison took her hands. “I would love to call you Mother,” she said.
Now the Dowager really was crying and smiling at the same time. “Oh, my dear—oh no, we should be going. I’ll escort you to the antechamber. I realize you know the way, but you should have at least one attendant.”
Alison did know how to get to the coronation chamber—just the week before she’d stood in the antechamber to renounce her claim to the title of County Waxwold in preparation for this day—but with her growing nervousness she was grateful for the Dowager’s company. The Dowager hustled her along, saying things like, “I don’t know how the time got away from us” and “Don’t worry, dear, they won’t start without you” which combined to make Alison far more nervous than if they’d gone in silence. The Dowager finally stopped at a double door twenty feet tall and air-kissed her on both cheeks. “I’ll see you soon, dear. The guards will open the inner doors when it’s time.” Alison watched her leave, then turned her attention to the doors. She was so nervous she was shaking. Was she making a mistake? Was it too soon? Before she could work herself up into a panic, she put her hand on the door and pushed it open.
The slight breeze from the doors smelled faintly like roses and furniture polish. The room beyond looked like the Dowager’s apartment, all white and gilt and mirrors, but what in the Dowager’s small apartment looked gaudy, in this vast room with its high ceilings looked grand. Her feet left prints on the soft carpet as she walked through the door. Across the room, Anthony turned around. “You’re here,” he said, his voice and face neutral. He didn’t approach her.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” she asked.
“I had just about convinced myself of that, yes.” He looked elegant in a fitted coat of gold satin with a waistcoat a few shades darker than her dress, white knee breeches and tawny shoes.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t realize how much effort it took to produce a bride.”
His smile was strained. “It was worth the effort. You are beautiful.”
“So are you,” she said. “I mean, not beautiful. Handsome.”
They silently gazed at one another, unsmiling, until Alison’s nerves gave way and she said, “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
That provoked a reaction. Anthony said, “Of course not,” astonished, then added, “Have you?”
“No. Why are you behaving so strangely?”
“Why are you?”
“I’m not behaving strangely. You’re the one who won’t stop staring at me like I’m a stranger.”
“Well, you’re the one who nearly forgot her own wedding.”
“I—what? I didn’t forget.”
“Only because Mother rousted you from whatever you were reading. I can’t believe I came second to a book.”
“That’s unfair. And how do you know that, anyway?”
“It was an informed guess.” Anthony turned away and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” Alison demanded.
“I said I keep expecting you to walk away from me again.”
Alison crossed the room to him and took his hand, blinking back tears of anger. “I’m five minutes late—”
“Twelve.”
“—Twelve minutes late and you assume I’ve run off?” She raised their clasped hands and shook them in his face. “Anthony North, in a few minutes I’m going to cross that hall with your hand in mine, and I am going to put this ring on your finger, and then I’m going to take your hand again and it will take seven burly men with crowbars to part me from you, and even that might not be enough. Do you think, after everything we’ve been through to get to this day, I’m going to abandon you so easily?”
He looked at her again and this time he smiled and shook his head. “You don’t have a single worry about all this, do you?”
“Of course I do. I worry we haven’t known each other very long and we’ll find out things about each other that we hate. I worry I’ll get lost in a book and you’ll get caught up in work, and we’ll forget to say we love each other, and I worry I don’t know how to make a marriage work and I’ll get everything wrong. But mostly, I worry I’ve waited all this time for my wedding night just to find out I hate sex.”
He burst out laughing, leaned against the wall with his head on his arms and roared until Alison started to get angry. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said. “I would take you in my arms and kiss you until you forgot all your worries, but I’m afraid my mother would kill me for mussing you.”
“She would kill me first. She thinks I have all the self-control in this relationship.”
“I’d say she was right, except that I’ve spent the last seven days thinking about what you look like naked and not trying to convince you to give me another look.”
“I wonder why they haven’t opened the doors yet.” Anthony suddenly looked horrified. “You don’t suppose everyone heard our argument, and they’ve been waiting for us to wrap it up?”
Alison grinned. “Then I guess we gave them an earful.” She took his hand and they gazed at one another again, this time smiling, until a few minutes later they heard the doors open.
“Are you ready, Countess?”
“I am, your Highness.”
Alison was glad to have a hand to hold because despite Zara’s comments about the scope of the ceremony, she hadn’t really understood how many people “a few hundred” were. Men and women dressed in the finery of three nations crowded in on either side of an invisible aisle, silently observing Alison and Anthony, and it made Alison so nervous that she kept speeding up, anxious to cross the vast chamber that was surely five miles wide. She smiled a frozen smile, reminded herself This is about you and Anthony, not about them and managed not to break into a run, towing Anthony behind her. It took nearly forever, but finally they climbed the three steps of the dais to stand before Zara, with Martin Quinn and the Dowager behind her.
“We are here today,” Zara said in a clear, carrying voice, “to witness the joining of Alison Quinn to the house of North by adoption, and to witness the joining of Anthony North and Alison North by oath of marriage. If anyone disputes the right of these people to make oath to one another, speak now.” She waited only a token few seconds before saying, “Alison Quinn, come forward.”
Alison released Anthony’s hand and stepped forward to clasp Zara around her right wrist as Zara took her right wrist in return. “Alison Quinn, do you of your own free will relinquish all claim to the Quinn name, to take the name of North to yourself and your children?”
“I do,” Alison said, and felt the power of the new family bond rush through her like a cool stream. Zara released her. “Anthony North, step forward.”
Anthony stood next to Alison. “Join left hands, please,” said Zara, and Anthony took Alison’s hand and squeezed it just a little. “Anthony North, do you take Alison North as your wife, mother of your children and strong left hand for all your days?”
“Yes,” said Anthony, his smile wide and brilliant. Alison knew she should look at Zara at this point in the ceremony, but she couldn’t bear to look away from him. She knew her smile was just as broad.
“Alison North, do you take Anthony North as your husband, father of your children and strong left hand for all your days?”
Alison let out a deep breath. “Yes,” she said.
“Then make your heart’s oaths to one another.”
Anthony released Alison’s hand just long enough to produce a slender gold band. “Alison, always my love, I will be strength to your weakness all the days of my life.”
Alison slipped her wider gold ring onto the center finger of Anthony’s left hand. “I swear to be yours forever, Anthony, strength to your weakness until the end of my days.” She took his hand in hers again.
Zara said, “Do you gathered here today bear witness?”
The roar of assent nearly deafened Alison. “Then as matriarch of the house of North,” Zara shouted over the din, “I declare this marriage sworn and sealed!”
Fire swept over her, filling her to the point that she could barely breathe. It was like nothing she’d felt before or even imagined feeling, like joy made tangible, and her knees trembled with the effort of holding her up. “Alison. Alison, what’s wrong?” Anthony said in her ear, and she realized she was leaning a little too heavily on him.
It was impossible to explain—but then, he’d have felt the same, wouldn’t he? “I was just a little overwhelmed,” she said. She stepped just far away enough to continue to hold her husband’s hand and looked around the room at cheering, expectant faces. “What are they waiting for?” she asked.
“This,” said Anthony, and slid his hand along her cheek and kissed her. Then he kissed her again, and she joined in enthusiastically. When they parted, he said, “I think if we do that again, some of those people might scream so loudly they’ll pass out.”
“Let’s do it anyway,” Alison said, and they did.
It took only minutes for Zara to sweep the family, Martin Quinn included, across the coronation room and out into the antechamber. Alison didn’t mind. She still felt a little shaky and welcomed Zara’s decisiveness. Her sister. She’d never had a sister before. To her surprise, Zara unbent long enough to embrace both her and the groom, though there was a look in her eye that said they shouldn’t expect it again anytime soon. Then Martin Quinn held Alison close and whispered, “You know I’ll always be your father, whatever family you join.”
Tears in her eyes, Alison responded, “I wouldn’t want any other father but you.”
The Dowager was radiant with happiness, embracing her son, then her new daughter, and Alison laughed and said, “Aren’t you afraid of mussing me?”
“The important part is over, dear. And it’s not as if I’m running my fingers through your hair. I’ll leave that to Anthony.” She winked and smiled, and Alison, who’d never imagined the Dowager could say anything even the least bit suggestive, blushed.
“Now,” Zara said, “let’s go over the rest of the evening. A wedding supper will be served in the dining hall in about twenty minutes, after which there will be a reception with dancing in the ballroom. The newlyweds should stay at least four hours. Anthony, try not to look at your watch too obviously or too often.”
“Why are you talking at me?”
“Because I know how you dislike these events and I suspect you would leave immediately if I did not give you explicit instructions. Alison, you and Anthony will lead off the dancing, but I would prefer you not dance too often. We have many visiting dignitaries and I think it would be a good idea for you to greet them, give them a chance to meet the heir’s bride.”
“Of course, Zara.” More strangers to stare at her. Alison gripped Anthony’s hand a little tighter.
“Martin, you’ll sit at Alison’s left hand. Mother, you’ll sit at my right. Any questions?”
“Are you going to tell me which fork to use?”
“Any non-frivolous questions? Good.”
Supper was delicious, though Alison was distracted by Anthony’s occasionally running his fingers up and down her thigh under the high table, making that part of her body heat up in a way that was incompatible with carrying on a conversation. She swatted him discreetly, once or twice, but he only gave her an innocent look and kept right on doing it.
They had the floor to themselves for the first dance, and Alison thought, as she had once before, how good they must look together, him dark, her fair. “Do you remember our first dance?” she said. “Heaven knows I wouldn’t have guessed then you would be within hours of seeing me without my clothes on today.”
“I’m ashamed to say I was drunk enough only to remember that you slapped me.”
“Well, you deserved it, in case you don’t remember that either.”
“I’m sure I did.” He looked serious. “You don’t hold that against me, right? It’s not something you’re going to bring up again someday when we’re fighting about something else?”
He sounded uncertain, and it made her heart fill with love for him. “I swear I never will,” she assured him. “I promise only to bring up the good memories from that time. Like your first play.”
“And when we raced in the Park.”
“And when you tried to get me into the Library.”
“And when I kissed you for the first time.”
“That’s one of my favorite memories.”
“Give me time, and I promise we’ll make more of them.”
They made the circuit of the hall twice, then separated to visit with their guests individually. Anthony was starting to look a little tense around the eyes, as if his patience was wearing out, and Alison judged he’d be able to bear the last
hour and a half better if she wasn’t around. Alison herself was starting to feel weary of meeting new people and keeping track of who should receive a curtsey and who a nod. It was disconcerting to be addressed as “your Highness” by foreign dignitaries and leered at by people who’d just seen her make her marriage oath. Only knowing that Anthony was nearby in the crowd kept her from freezing up.
She was in the middle of an interesting conversation with a visiting Eskandelic princeling’s harem when someone tugged on her skirt and Anthony said, in her ear, “I’m leaving. Follow when you can.” Then he was gone. Alison suddenly found it difficult to stay focused on the conversation. She extricated herself as soon as was gracefully possible and made her way through the crowd, deflecting courtesies and conversational gambits. More people thronged the hallway outside the ballroom; she made noises about needing to use the facilities and fled.
She hurried along the halls, her dress swaying around her ankles, until she came to the east wing. Two guards stood sentinel even though everyone was at the ball. Well. Everyone but two people. They passed her through without comment, though she was sure the female guard winked at her.
Their new apartment was on the far side of the wing from Zara’s, something Anthony swore had not been part of his calculations when he chose it. “You can redecorate it any way you like,” he’d told her, but she liked the bright colors of the sitting room and the shades of blue in the bedroom. Her heart pounded a little faster. She opened the apartment door and went inside.
He’d left one light burning so she wouldn’t have to stumble through the darkness of the sitting room. The bedroom door was partially ajar. She pushed it open to find the lamp Devices glowing softly, dimly lighting the room, and no Anthony visible anywhere. “Hello?” she said quietly, feeling awkward despite this being her room as well as his. Or maybe that was why she felt awkward, sharing a bedroom with someone else for the first time in her entire life.
Servant of the Crown (The Crown of Tremontane Book 1) Page 38