Page 37 of Brutal Fae King
“I truly hoped I’d be the one to end up officiating your wedding like we agreed when you were younger,” he says. “But not like this.”
“Frankly, Bruamin,” I reply. “I don’t like getting married under such circumstances either. Now go fetch the bride.”
***
“Wait,right now?!” she gasps.
“Yes,” I reply. “That was our deal. As soon as I found someone to officiate, we’d be married.”
“Yes, but…”
“Bruamin will officiate,” I say. “He is my lord-in-waiting. He’s been here ever since I was a very small child—like a second father to me—so I trust he will do nicely.”
Her gaze softens just a little bit. She looks at Bruamin, and he bows his head at her.
“My queen,” he murmurs politely.
She still blinks, still bemused. She bows her head cordially back, then looks to me:
“I have to get married inthis?!” she demands. “I don’t even get a wedding dress? You’re a king! You should be able to get me a dress!”
I glare at her. She’s a smart one sometimes.
“I know what you’re doing, and there’s no point delaying it,” I growl at her. “You agreed that we would be married as soon as there was an officiant, and I’m not going to let you procrastinate. If you feel the need for a huge ceremony, completewith whatever dress takes your fancy, then we can have a ceremonial wedding later.”
I can see her grinding her teeth; I think she’s run out of excuses. I offer her my arm before she can think of any.
“Come. Time to fulfill your end of the bargain.”
She sneers but links her arm through mine. I nod to Bruamin, and he moves ahead, opening the door for us. He walks to the other end of the room, and I start taking my new bride through. But the witch stays, smiling at us both.
“Wait,” my new bride hisses. “Why is the witchhere?”
“She’s our official witness,” I answer.
We reach the front, and Bruamin starts speaking, running through the ceremony like he has done at his church so many times before. I’ve heard it many times—my parents always insisted that we showed our faces at every official event pertinent to the family. That involved every boring wedding that ever happened, no matter how removed the cousin or uncle might have been.
Instead, I watch her face. It’s odd. It keeps changing. There’s still a touch of a sneer on her face, but there’s some melancholic wondering in her expression. I wonder what she’s thinking.
Eventually, Bruamin asks me the question. I don’t hear it properly, but I look at him.
“I do,” I answer.
There’s a light glowing coming from the floor—the most subtle purple illuminance drawn in an ornate symbol on the floor, enclosing both me and my bride. I can only observe the symbol from the corner of my eyes. There are so many loops and twirls in the pattern that I cannot imagine how the witchmight have drawn it in such a short period of time. I can see two separate threads winding mostly around themselves until the point where they meet and bind together. It’s like a large horseshoe around the pair of us.
Beautiful in its own way.
I flash a glance at her, but she stares right ahead, not looking back at me.
But she’s not looking at the floor, either. Good.
My lord-in-waiting nods at me, still understatedly sad, then looks to her:
“And do you, my lady, take the king to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She sighs lightly.
“I do.”
