Page 47 of Rise of a Fallen Man

I remembered what my father told me about the night before his marriage to Mother.

“Were you nervous?” I patted his hand sympathetically.

“Very,” he admitted. “Still am.”

I wished I could offer him some reassurance, but I had nothing reassuring to say. I was not looking forward to tonight, wishing I could just come back to my bedroom instead and try to fall asleep in hopes it’d work this time. A rest was way overdue for me. By now, I could barely think from exhaustion.

When it was finally acceptable for us to leave, I offered Leafar my hand. He gripped it with a long sigh escaping his lips.

The huge mirror stone glistened on his ring finger so brightly, I had to glance away. I’d put that ring on his finger that afternoon during our wedding ceremony. Leafar was now my lawfully wedded husband, and I had become his wife in the eyes of the gods and the law.

The notion still felt too foreign to settle in my mind with acceptance. I wished I’d asked Father or Mother how long it’d taken them to feel comfortable around each other. Because nothing about me leading Leafar down the corridor toward his bedroom under the scrutinizing stares of the wedding guests felt comfortable.

Reaching the doors to his suite, I wished him a good night, then pressed a peck on his cheek, as was required, and headed to my rooms.

I wished I could stay here, alone. But the delay was just to give the gentlemen-in-waiting enough time to get my virginal husband ready for our wedding night.

With the help of two maids, I had a bath, then put on a nightshirt and a dressing robe. While the maids dried and brushed my hair, I stared at the mirror reflection of the dark sky in the open patio doors behind me. My mind was blank, just the way I wanted it.

One of Leafar’s gentlemen-in-waiting arrived a short while later to inform me that my husband was now ready to receive me.

A crowd gathered outside my door. The wedding guests formed a corridor along the hallways all the way from my rooms to Leafar’s suite. Someone handed me a lantern decorated with flowers and golden ribbons. With the entire palace still wide awake, the role of the lantern was largely symbolic. It represented the means to light a wife’s way to her husband.

Cheers, jokes, and encouragements accompanied me all the way to Leafar’s rooms.

“May the loins of your husband be virile and fruitful, Princess Aniri.”

“We’re praying to the Goddess for a daughter for you, the heiress to the queendom.”

“Make him moan, Your Highness!” someone shouted from down the corridor.

“We want to hear him scream all night!” another voice yelled, fueled by wine, no doubt.

“Make him scream your name.”

“And ‘Glory to Rorrim!’”

I smiled, waved in greeting, and even joked back once or twice, but released a breath of relief when I finally reached my destination.

As I raised a hand to knock on the door, Leafar’s aunt appeared on my left.

“May the Goddess bless your coupling tonight, Your Highness.” The grand duchess bowed her head, thrusting a white velvet cushion into my hands. A small golden key lay on the cushion.

“What is this?” I asked her.

“The key to your husband’s virtue,” she replied proudly. “We’ve preserved his purity for you.”

By now, pretty much every person of the prince’s escort had praised his virtue to me. So, it wasn’t too much of a stretch for me to accept the key as the symbol of his innocence.

“Well...thank you.” I took the key from the cushion and shoved it in the pocket of my robe.

The door finally opened, and I hurried inside, glad to escape the crowd. But I got no reprieve in the prince’s equally crowded bedroom. At least a dozen of his gentlemen-in-waiting were lounging about. The sound of their voices died out, cut off by my arriving into their midst.

Leafar’s bedroom was round, with his bed placed opposite from the entrance. Glass doors on each side of the bed led out to balconies.

Several platters with tea, cheese, and sliced meat stood on the table and side stands in the sitting area to the right. Leafar sat in a high-backed armchair in front of a large mirror, surrounded by elegantly dressed gentlemen of all ages.

He jumped to his feet at the sight of me.

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