Page 50 of The Warrior and the Monk

"Well?" he asked Anders.

His husband stood back, hands on his hips, and admired the sight.I stole away a prince,he said.

Wilder didn't think he could possibly blush any more after being taken in front of half the town, but still his cheeks warmed at Anders's words. "Don't tease me."

It's only the truth.

Wilder ran his fingers along the gold-thread embroidery. Who would have thought? If Wilder, dressed as he was now in these gorgeous clothes, his cheeks still pink, his hair mussed, had ever managed to find his old self—that novice on the beach—and tell him that one day he would be wed to a man great in all ways and happier than he had ever dreamed, Wilder was sure he still wouldn't have believed it, so fantastic it seemed.

A prince. No, he much preferred their house and farm. A prince did not have that. A prince did not have Anders.

???

By the time they emerged from the tent, the celebration had already begun to wind down. The majority of the crowd had moved on to the town, eager to feast and drink in the warmth of the longhouse. The air was filled with the distant sounds of laughter and music, the clink of mugs and the bustling of a happy, contented crowd. The day’s festivities had clearly exhausted most of the villagers, but a few had stayed behind to accompany Wilder and Anders on the next leg of their journey. Among them was the earl, still looking regal despite the day's events, her kind but sharp eyes twinkling in the fading light.

"A good show," she said with a mischievous wink, her tone light and teasing. "You two looked quite the part up there. I expect the town will be talking about this for quite some time."

Wilder smiled at the earl’s words, feeling a swell of pride at the thought of their wedding being so well received. It had been everything he hadn’t known he wanted, yet now that it was over, he couldn’t imagine having done it any other way. The ceremony had been everything it needed to be—full of warmth, love, and the support of their community.

As they walked away from the tent, the few stragglers who had remained behind showered them with compliments. It was clear that the villagers had all paid close attention to every detail of their attire. Wilder was suddenly self-conscious about the intricate embroidery on his tunic, but the praise that followed helped him relax.

"This embroidery is so delicate!" one woman exclaimed, her eyes alight with admiration as she looked at the fine stitching across his chest.

"It fits you perfectly!" another woman chimed in, her voice full of approval.

Wilder's smile grew wider, and he thought about how much Kirk would love to hear about the compliments. Kirk had worked hard to create the tunics, and though he had been slightly nervous at first, the final product had turned out beautifully. Kirk had always had an eye for detail, but Wilder had never been able to appreciate it until now—until he saw how others admired the clothes.

As they moved through the crowd, Wilder felt a tug on his sleeve. It was one of the warriors who had helped them reach the field earlier, the one who had been carrying the broom and had been so eager to clear away their cart. The warrior sidled up to them with a sly grin on his face. "Anders," he said, voice low but amused. "Do you remember where you found Wilder? Do you have a map?"

Wilder blinked, confused for a moment, then realized what the man was asking. "What do you mean?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He glanced at Anders, whose expression was already shifting from amused to slightly annoyed.

"So fond of the idea of matrimony now, are you?" another voice chimed in from the side. It was another warrior, his tone teasing. He snorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

The first warrior grinned even wider, nudging Anders with his elbow. "Well, I've been convinced of the benefits," he said, then turned to Wilder. "Anders? A map?" He made an exaggerated gesture, as if he were looking for something hidden in the air, as though expecting Anders to suddenly pull out some kind of map from his belt.

Wilder could feel a chuckle bubbling up in his throat, and he couldn’t help but smile at their teasing. But Anders, who had not seemed to find the joke nearly as funny, let out a growl of frustration. His face was flushed with irritation, but Wilder could see that beneath the frustration, there was a glimmer ofaffection. Anders began gesturing fiercely, his hands moving in quick, sharp motions, each one more pointed than the last.

Wilder laughed softly, recognizing the signs of Anders's irritation but also the subtle humor that still lay beneath it. He turned back to the two warriors with an exaggerated sigh, translating as he went. “He says no,” he began, his voice playful but clear. “You must find your own spouse.” Wilder added a flourish of his hand, mimicking Anders’s gestures. “But also make sure that you have a long talk before you bring them to the ship.”

The warriors, their grins widening, seemed to take this answer with good humor. They chuckled and slapped each other on the back, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. Wilder couldn’t help but join in, the camaraderie of the moment lightening his mood even more. He added with a wink, “Yes, that will make things easier for you both.”

The group laughed, and the two warriors continued their banter, the tension of the day’s formalities easing away as they returned to the warmth of friendship and teasing. Wilder felt a warmth spread through him as he looked at Anders, who was now shaking his head with a fond smile. They had just been married, and yet here they were, still very much themselves—two men who could laugh and joke even in the face of their new lives.

As the laughter died down, the group began to walk together toward the town, the last remnants of daylight fading as they went. Wilder couldn’t help but look around, taking in the familiar faces of the villagers, and he realized just how much this community meant to him now. The people who had witnessed his vows and supported him and Anders, who had taken the time to make him feel welcome and at home. These were the people who would stand by him and Anders in the years to come, who would be there through the challenges and the triumphs alike.

The market square had been completely transformed. What had once been a bustling hub of commerce, filled with colorful stalls and haggling voices, now looked like a scene from a dream. The buildings were draped in garlands of fresh flowers, their vibrant colors catching the last rays of the sun, and soft petals were scattered across the ground, giving the square the feel of a garden in full bloom. The usual sights of goods being sold had been replaced with long tables, each laden with sumptuous food and surrounded by revelers, their laughter filling the air.

The aromas were intoxicating, weaving a tapestry of spiced meats, freshly baked bread, and sweet treats. Wilder's stomach growled as the smell of roasting meats, herbs, and honey reached his nose. Each table seemed to feature a centerpiece of perfectly cooked, mouthwatering dishes. One table boasted a large, beautifully baked salmon, its skin crispy and golden. Another held a roasted goat, its flesh tender and glistening with juices. At the center of two other tables, there were roast geese, their golden skin crackling, and the air was filled with the scent of their savory stuffing. Surrounding these large cuts of meat were dozens of smaller platters and bowls—bowls of fragrant, toasted nuts, a line of syrupy baked apples stuffed with berries and oozing honey, and a wheel of hard, sharp cheese that seemed to be steadily disappearing as people cut slices and savored its rich flavor.

Nearby, fresh, warm stacks of flatbread were paired with an array of soups and stews. There was a savory pot of fish stew, a hearty onion and leek soup, a thick stew of vegetables and barley, and a sweeter dish of apple and carrot soup that looked too tempting to resist. Each table had its own set of mugs overflowing with ale and mead, their frothy tops glistening in the light. Wilder sniffed deeply, the fragrance of rosehips minglingwith the earthy scent of the bread and the savory stews. It was a feast, not just for the stomach, but for the senses.

The entire town had gathered for the celebration, their voices rising in joyful chorus as they ate, drank, and reveled in the union of Anders and Wilder. Laughter rang out from every direction, and the songs of the townsfolk filled the air. The sound of fiddles, drums, and other instruments blended into the background of a chorus of cheers and shouts in their honor. It felt like a celebration that would last until the stars filled the sky.

Wilder scanned the crowd, feeling a sense of awe wash over him. And there, near a tray of hand pies, he spotted Frode in deep conversation with Kirk and Osgood. Kirk appeared to be doing most of the talking, animated and full of energy as usual, while Osgood happily tucked into a plate piled high with bread, meat, and fruit, clearly enjoying the bounty in front of him. Frode smiled and nodded, always the listener, a calm presence among the more boisterous members of the group.

When Kirk spotted them, his face broke into a wide grin. He nudged both Frode and Osgood, then stood, raising a hand high above his head. “There they are!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. “Let’s hear it for the happy couple!”

The cheer that erupted from the crowd was so loud that it felt like it could be heard from the other side of the world, a deafening roar of applause and goodwill. Wilder felt his cheeks flush, his heart swelling with warmth. He squeezed Anders's hand, his heart racing with the love and joy that filled the square. Anders, too, smiled—his lips curling up in a soft, beautiful expression—and then leaned down to kiss Wilder, gently and sweetly, right there in the middle of the celebration. The kiss was brief, but it sent a wave of happiness coursing through Wilder, and he couldn’t help but smile against Anders’s lips.

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