Page 120 of Path of the Dark
Epilogue
Shelter
Mirrar Rock
The Kingdom of Anthor
One month later …
ELIAS, KING OF Anthor, wed Ryana of Ridder Vale upon a wide terrace above the city, beneath the gleaming black bulk of the palace.
It was not yet noon, but the sun blazed down from a hard blue sky. Shielded from its fierceness, Elias and Ryana stood beneath a shade sail while the High Enchanter of the Order of Light and Darkness performed the wedding ceremony. From here, they had a magnificent view over a swathe of tiled roofs, down to the wide blue expanse of the sea.
Ryana couldn’t stop smiling.
She’d been nervous about this ceremony—especially about standing up in front of the folk of Mirrar Rock—but now she was here, her nerves disappeared. The folk of Mirrar Rock packed the terrace; the men were dressed in black, the women in colorful gowns and parasols. Incense wafted through the air, carried on a hot wind.
Elias and Ryana joined hands, while the High Enchanter stepped forward. Biel was a tall, spare man with long greying hair tied back at his nape.
“Now you will feel no rain.” Biel’s baritone reached out over the terrace. “For each of you will be shelter for the other. You will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. There will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. You are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth.”
Ryana’s vision misted. She’d always been dry-eyed at weddings, too cynical to let the vows touch her.
But that was before Elias—before today.
Her husband pulled her into his arms for a passionate kiss, and the crowd responded with a thunderous applause.
The people of Anthor had a love for theatre, for public displays of affection, it seemed. The cheering went on a while—as did the kiss.
When they finally broke apart, Ryana was gasping for air.
Elias grinned down at her. “Do you think that’s enough, or should we go in for another?” Before Ryana could answer, he embraced her again, sweeping her off her feet into his arms.
The crowd went wild, and another enthusiastic applause rippled across the terrace. This time, Ryana gave them the spectacle they cried out for. She wrapped her arms around Elias’s neck and kissed him back lustily, not caring that half the city looked on.
Later, they sat side-by-side at the banquet table upon the terrace and shared their first goblet of wine together. Shade sails billowed overhead, shielding long tables of feasters, while brightly garbed servants brought out trays of food: saffron rice and grilled prawns, cured hams, huge wheels of aged sheep’s cheese, fat green olives stuffed with anchovies, and long thin loaves of dark crusty bread.
Ryana’s mouth watered as a servant placed a huge silver tureen of saffron rice mixed with seafood before her. The aroma of garlic wafted across the table. She’d only been in Mirrar Rock a few days and was in love with the food. It made the cuisine of her own people seem stodgy and bland in comparison. The flavors here were so bold that they danced off her tongue.
Elias served them, spooning the bright yellow rice onto a shared dish before them. “How did you cope being away for so long?” she asked. “If I’d grown up with dishes like these, I’d have never left.”
“You never appreciate what you have until it’s gone,” Elias replied with a wry smile. “On campaigns, most of the talk around the fireside was about food.”
Ryana took a mouthful of rice, her gaze widening in pleasure. She swallowed her mouthful and smiled. “I’m not surprised.”
She was aware then of a gaze boring into her. Ryana glanced up to see a sharp-featured, raven-haired woman farther down the table staring at her: Jada, the dowager queen.
The sour look on the woman’s face was impossible to miss.
Of all those she’d met at Mirrar Rock, Ryana’s mother-in-law had been the least welcoming. Jada had once been a beauty, you could see it in the sculpted lines of her face. Yet bitterness and scorn had eroded her looks far faster than time ever could.
Ignoring the dowager queen’s glare, Ryana favored Jada with a bright smile and turned back to Elias.
He was watching her, his eyes hooding in a way that never failed to excite Ryana. He looked striking today, dressed head-to-toe in black silk and leather, silver epaulets gleaming at his shoulders. In contrast, Ryana wore Anthor red: a high-necked crimson gown with long full skirts.
“I’m glad your friends could make it,” Elias said, smiling. “Even if Ninia couldn’t.”
Ryana nodded, her attention shifting to the long table around ten yards away. At its center sat four figures: Asher, Mira, Lilia, and Dain. Catching Ryana’s eye, Asher raised his goblet in a silent toast. Dressed in a white linen tunic and breeches, Asher reclined in his chair, one arm slung protectively over Mira’s shoulders. She’d never seen him so relaxed. Upon the back of his chair perched Grim; Asher’s familiar had joined him on his trip south.
