Page 51 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

“I would expect you to be nervous, but I will be with you at all times, Cirri.” He reached out to touch my fingers; despite my fear, I loved the way he said my name, the slightest hint of a Nord accent turning it from a pet name into something infinitely more seductive.

As long as you stay with me, I said, touching his arm again. Not even his fine linen shirt was as smooth as the skin beneath; a strange thing to think about a fiend.I’ve never had to be the center of attention in my life. I don’t want to start now.

To be sure he understood, I patted him and then myself.

His lips curled upward. “I won’t leave you.”

Relieved, I watched as he unbarred the carriage door and shifted himself outside, the entire carriage tipping to the side. He offered his hand and I took it without reluctance, clutching my bag close with one hand and wrapping the other through his arm, holding him tight.

For a moment I almost smiled to myself; I’d been terrified of him the night before, and now I clung to him like he was a shield.

Wyn and Visca were behind the carriage, Visca on a large black gelding, Wyn riding a dainty white mare. The bloodwitch dismounted and handed off the reins to one of the soldiers. “Time to go make nice,” she muttered to herself, and for once I found myself in total agreement with her.

The supply wagons were some way behind us, but from what Wyn had told me, they contained shipments of weapons and preserved food that would be distributed to the smaller settlements outside Fog Hollow. For now, we weren’t here to make deliveries, but to prove to these people that their lord protector was keeping his throne.

So I did my best to fix a smile, however tremulous, on my mouth, all too aware that these people would not look at me as a scullery maid.

Bane led me toward the bonfires, and outside the carriage I could see clearly that the entire village had gathered in this field for the celebration; long tables had been dragged out around the bonfires, what seemed like a thousand beer and wine kegs were already tapped, and every available surface was covered in red cloth or strewn with flowers.

There was a table reserved for Bane, made obvious not only by the fact that it was in pride of place in the celebrations, but by the enormous carved chair, big enough to sit a fiend.

And by the slightly smaller chair next to it—heavily entwined with elaborate garlands of primrose and holly. It would feel like sitting in a shrubbery.

But if it made these Rift-kin feel better about me, so be it. I’d sit in the shrubbery and touch cold iron all night if it eased their minds.

As we passed, Bane greeted many of the Rift-kin by name, reaching out to clasp shoulders and exchange quick pleasantries, particularly with the men. I realized these men—most of them scarred, some missing eyes or limbs—were the men he had fought with against the Forians.

They knew him, trusted him. He was not a shadowy figurehead in the castle to these people; he had shared blood, sweat, and tears with them, crawled through the same hardships day in and day out.

My stomach suddenly churned with a cramping ache. I had no place here. Hebelongedto them, and I was merely an outsider.

“May I introduce my wife, Lady Cirrien lai Darran?” he said to them, and the old warriors tipped their heads politely, all of them eyeing me with poorly-disguised curiosity.

I kept my smile in place and released Bane for a moment to sign.It’s a pleasure to meet you.

A lifetime of the same reaction had prepared me for the sudden confusion, quickly stifled, followed by skepticism. One of the men squinted at me. “Are you like… one of the Silent Brothers?”

I tipped my head and shrugged, gesturing.In a way.

Comprehension replaced skepticism. “Oh. So you made a vow of silence? I thought they didn’t take women.”

I shook my head, still smiling—by the Light, my lips were frozen in this position now—and touched my throat.

“She is unable to speak,” Bane said, the slightest, deeper warning growl in his tone.

They nodded slowly. A man with a scar that had carved out a good portion of his nose and upper lip shrugged. “Well, if you tell me there’s a warg over my shoulder, I’ll understand that, at least. We got that twelve times a day on the frontlines.”

One of the others laughed, and though the joke wasn’t funny, the tension dissipated. The man without a nose bowed gallantly, took my hand, and kissed it.

His lips were wet and unpleasant after the warm gentleness of Bane’s touch, but I squeezed his fingers in return regardless. Never had I suspected that these men who had fought alongside the Silent Brothers might be a boon to me, with some rudimentary understanding of my primary language.

I fended off several more questions about the Brotherhood before we made it to the table, but by the time Bane pulled out the garland-draped chair, word was spreading that his new wife was as silent as the sworn Brothers, who had vowed never to speak so as not to offend the Lady of Light with their mortal, male voices.

I glanced at the shrubbery with a silent sigh, and then realized that all the Rift-kin in the field—from the childrenpoking sticks in the bonfires to the adults clutching mugs of beer—were watching. Some openly, some surreptitiously, but now their superstitions were on clear display.

The wedding might be over, the vows were made, but this wasn’t done until the people Bane ruled were satisfied.

I touched my husband’s hand and sat in the chair, a thick holly leaf poking the back of my neck. He pushed it in for me, and when I didn’t burst into flames or fling myself screaming from the braided greenery, the Rift-kin relaxed a little.

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