Page 20 of Of Steel and Scale

“I guess we’d better.”

I slipped my arm through his and tried to ignore the heat of his body and my unfettered response. Heard his sharp intake of breath, though I couldn’t say whether it was an echo of my awareness or simply a “girding of loins” against the irrevocable change we were about to undertake.

As one, we stepped through the vestibule and into the chapel. It was small but decorated with colorful tapestries depicting the might of the many gods and goddesses that blessed our nation. There were four pews on either side, but only the first two were filled—my parents and Kele to the left and, on the right, Aric and Gayl, an older woman who was apparently Damon’s aunt and mentor. Of what, I had no idea, as she’d been keeping well out of my path. It was just one more mystery to solve.

Marshall—the friar who’d looked after the religious health of our family for over forty years now—waited for us at the altar. Kele and Gayl rose as we walked past their pews and moved to stand beside us. Marshall sent a quick wink my way before getting down to the serious business of the ceremony. It didn’t take all that long and ended with Kele and Gayl handing us the simple rings made of black and gold stones. Once we’d placed them on each other’s fingers, I stepped around the pulpit to sign the chapel’s register then moved away to give Damon space. When that was done, Marshall declared our union official in the eyes of the gods. There was no invitation to kiss the bride—this was a business deal rather than a love match, and Marshall was well aware of that.

And yet there was a part of me that mourned the loss. A part that wanted nothing more than to press myself against him, to feel every inch of his warm, muscular length against every inch of mine. A part that longed to brush my lips against his, to taste and explore his mouth until the kiss became a heated, wanton prelude to the passion that waited for us deeper in the night.

Just notthisnight.

Capriciousness, thy name is Bryn.

As the bells rang a second time, announcing the finalization of our nuptials, I once again slipped my arm through Damon’s, and we led the way out of the church.

Raucous cheers greeted us when we entered the great hall. By tradition, the ceremony was a private matter only attended by parents and the ring bearers, but the banquet feast was attended by not only the wider family circle, but also as many friends from both sides as could be easily seated within the hall. On our side that was close to fifty—Mom had alotof relations here, and Dad many friends, as he was also an only child and nearly all of his cousins were either dead or too old to travel. By contrast, there were only a dozen or so here from Zephrine, and all of them, aside from Gayl and her partner Joseph, Damon’s friends—though in truth, none of them were acting overly friendly. That there weren’t more of his father’s relatives here was also extremely unusual, and it just added fuel to my suspicions of a rift between the father and his heir.

We made our way slowly to the main table, greeting everyone on the way through. Thankfully, after a couple of quick speeches and a toast to the renewal of treaties and the linking of our two great families for another century, the feasting started.

It was a long night, made longer by the fact I was hyperaware of the man sitting by my side. Every move, every sound, every vague brush of his body against mine had a weird mix of anticipation, desire, and dread pulsing through me. While I was thankful for the attraction, he was still a stranger, and I had a long history of not being intimate with any man until I was comfortable in their presence. As Kele had noted on multiple occasions, I’d probably missed plenty of good sex because of it. But I was the only daughter of the king, and such decisions had always been a matter of self-preservation, then and now.

Of course, the inner tension might not have been such a problem if I simply drank my reluctance away, but I had no desire to give myself an excuse. No matter what happened in our bedchamber tonight—no matter what decision I made in regard to the start of our sexual relationship—it would be done with a clear head.

As the bells finally tolled the midnight hour—the traditional time for our departure—a cheer went up, and two lines were hastily formed between our table and the hall’s main doors.

Damon rose and offered me his hand. “Shall we brave the gauntlet of well-wishers?”

“And grain. Don’t forget the grain.” I placed my hand in his and rose. Heat stirred where our fingers touched and, just for an instant, I saw its echo in his eyes.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Though I’m thinking neither of us are quite ready for the gift of fertility it supposedly represents.”

“Oh, I thinkthatis a really safe bet.”

He laughed softly and led me from the podium. Our parents were first in line; I hugged mine fiercely, pretending a happiness I didn’t really feel. Mom no doubt saw past it, but my father, at least, looked relieved. Of course, this wasn’t our final goodbye—that would come in a few days’ time, when all my possessions had been packed for the sea journey to Zephrine. I daresay there would be tears at that point—both his and mine.

Of course, the attack might well put a temporary halt to all that, but now wasn’t the time to raise it. But if I knew my mother, she’d have already started discussions on the matter with Aric.

I made no move to greet Aric in a similar manner; his dour expression suggested it would not be appreciated. For whatever reason, the man didn’t like me.

A feeling that was certainly returned.

It took a good half hour to make our way through the rest of the honor line; every guest, it seemed, had some vital word of advice they needed to impart about our wedding night or about marriage in general. I smiled and laughed until my cheeks were aching, and I was damnably glad to reach the door, where both Kele and Gayl waited.

I untwined my fingers from Damon’s and stepped into Kele’s arms. Her hug was fierce and strong. “I’m going to miss you. Badly.”

And I her. But she knew that—I’d said it often enough in the last few weeks. “The offer of personal guard is always open, remember that.”

“Maybe. One day.”

“One day” would forever remain on the horizon, and we both knew it. Her life, her loves, and her mother were all here. She wouldn’t—and couldn’t, in the case of her mother, who’d been blinded in a Mareritten attack back in the day when she’d been a soldier—leave them.

I forced myself to pull back. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Do, or I swear by Vahree, I’ll send a flame bird to burn your ass.”

I laughed, even as tears prickled. A flame bird was a rather beautiful piece of inner magic in which she crafted a bird out of her flames and sent it winging into the world—though to date, it had only lasted a little over a mile before fading. Zephrine remained well beyond her reach.

“Fail to answer, and I’ll send a drakkon.”

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