Page 93 of The Exile's Curse

He half smiled, then leaned forward and kissed her fast. "Stop thinking so hard. And get some sleep." He let go of her hand and climbed off the bed.

How did one simple kiss make her heart pound? She wanted another, despite knowing it to be foolish. Didn’t want him to leave. "You could help me sleep."

"Oh no, that would lead to more of that trouble you're worried about." He shook his head. "Good night, Chloe. I'll see you in the morning."

"White is traditional," Katiya said uncertainly.

The queen was perched on the end of Chloe's bed, looking very regal in silver and white, her hair braided and held in place with a white gold and diamond circlet. Irina, also already dressed, was examining the jewels Katiya had arrived with in case Chloe needed a larger selection than she had brought with her.

"I'm a widow. I've done this before. I'm definitely not a virgin," Chloe said. "White would be redundant." She'd worn it for the ceremonies and festivities yesterday, and that had been fun, but today she wanted to be Illvyan. She'd worn a white—well, palest cream—gown to marry Charl. She hadn't been a virgin then either, but she'd liked the color with her hair, and it went well with the de Montesse family colors. But she saw no reason to do so again.

Besides, if she wanted to wear an Illvyan gown, it had to be one she had brought with her. Imogene's taste, like hers, rarely ran to pale, and most of the dresses reflected that. The gold-and-blue gown she'd worn to Katiya's wedding was the most beautiful, but also too formal for a small hasty wedding.

Lucien had put his foot down about that. The court wouldn't attend the ceremony. Only the king, Katiya, Irina, and Roland. And as many priests and seers as deemed necessary. Nobody else. Mikvel had agreed but insisted they should have a larger reception in the evening for the court to celebrate their nuptials.

But it wouldn’t be anywhere as grand as one of his and Katiya’s balls. So, she could wear any of gowns she hadn't already worn to one of the royal wedding celebrations.

She considered her choices again. Allita had produced several carved wooden racks and draped the options over them. The silver brocade might pass for white. But it wasn't her favorite, and silver had never been her color.

So, instead, she reached for one of the few gowns that Helene's seamstresses had made for her. Heavy silk in her favorite deep shade of pink. Cut simply—there hadn’t been time for anything too elaborate—with a modest neckline and long sleeves, it was still Illvyan but wouldn’t ruffle any feathers. Helene had cleverly trimmed it with lace dyed the same shade, the motifs cut out and sewn to the fabric in a manner that resembled Andalyssian embroidery. "This one."

Katiya looked unsure but didn't argue. Irina just smiled and held up a circlet of ruby and diamond stars. "You should wear this, then. It complements the silk, and the stars match your betrothal ring."

And the mark on her skin. Lucien’s mark. Part of her wanted to refuse, but another part knew he would like it.

She nodded.

Irina smiled. “There’s a necklace, too.”

"Just the circlet. Let's keep things simple."

Her dress and jewels might be simple, but Chloe's emotions as she walked to the chapel were complicated. She was nervous. Which made no sense. This wasn't an actual marriage. Or, rather, not one that was going to last.

But apparently her stomach didn't recognize that. It fluttered with butterflies. A sensation she hadn't felt in a while. Anticipation. Of having Lucien in her bed again. Possibly not a frame of mind that Sejerin Silya would approve of. Chloe wasn't sure she approved of it herself. But she couldn't change it.

"Are you ready?" Irina asked as they reached the doors where Gilles waited to escort her into the chapel.

"As I'll ever be," she replied, taking a deep breath. Too late to do anything else now.

Captain Theisse stepped forward. "You look lovely, Lieutenant," he said.

She smiled at him, appreciating his avoidance of her last name. Charl's last name. Soon not to be hers anymore. Once Lucien divorced her, she would return to using Matin. He would find that true love he sought eventually, and whoever he married next wouldn't appreciate another Lady Castaigne running around. Besides which, would she even be Lady Castaigne after their marriage was dissolved? Charl had died. Divorce was different.

And this, she suspected, was another train of thought that Lucien would gently suggest was strange to be having just as she was preparing to go and make vows in front of the goddess, the balance, and who knew what other deities might care to look in that she was pledging herself to him forever. She took another breath, trying to steady her thoughts, and made herself smile Gilles.

"Thank you," she said and tucked her arm through his as the doors opened.

The ceremony was straightforward. Not as long or elaborate as the king's and without the interludes of massed choruses singing strange Andalyssian harmonies to echo round the stone arches. But, having attended that, she at least understood what to expect and what to say. She stood with Lucien and followed instructions to face various directions and be anointed with substances representing earth, water, blood, and air by the svasyas. The words and movements came by rote, her focus more on Lucien than what was going on around them.

Solid and strong and familiar to anchor her through this very strange day. At various stages of the ceremony, the hum of his song through the bond grew louder, as though he was perhaps watching the ceremony to see what magic was being used. No one had yet told them they needed to dissolve it, and she was glad. She wasn’t ready to give it up, the comfort that came from feeling him near.

The only real surprise came when he produced another ring at the end of the ceremony. Katiya had shown her a selection of gold bands earlier that morning and told her to pick one to give to him. They were, the queen claimed, his size. Chloe hadn't argued, and Katiya had waved away her request to pay for it.

She wouldn't have been able to afford the ring that Lucien offered her. A band of rubies near the shade of her dress, set off with a black diamond in the center. The stones sparkled in the light. Expensive. Too expensive. But she could hardly mount an argument at the altar, so she just held out her hand and let him slip it into place as she recited the final vows obediently.

He smiled as he did so, something gleaming at her from those wild green eyes that made her think his mind was more focused on events after the wedding, too. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. Not as fierce as the night before. Not as unrestrained as the night they’d shared. But the hunger beneath it thrummed at her through the bond, and she was glad that his hands had gone around her waist as her knees wobbled and the world faded around her until he pulled away and the witnesses began to clap.

She didn't get any time alone with Lucien after the ceremony. Mikvel had promised the reception he'd planned would not be too extravagant, but she realized, as the hours passed and she began to grow more eager to have Lucien to herself once more, that they hadn't placed any limits on him as to time. That had been a mistake. They should have known by now that the Andalyssians liked long meals. And liked them more followed by dancing and free-flowing wine.

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