Page 94 of Savage Devotion
In all things.The phrase encompasses more than romantic partnership, political alliance, military cooperation, economic collaboration, the full integration of lives and purposes that marriage represents in both our cultures.
Lord Commander Aldric nods his formal agreement. "House Vaelmark recognizes this union and the alliance it represents. May it bring prosperity to both peoples and peace to lands that have known too much conflict."
May it bring peace.The hope underlying all of this ceremony, all of this risk, all of this unprecedented choice. That partnership between individuals can expand into a partnership between peoples. Unity serves better than division when facing the challenges that threaten all of us.
The formal ceremony concludes with the exchange of binding gifts. I present Ressa with a blade forged from mountain steel and ember-glass, its edge keen enough to cut through deception as easily as flesh. She offers me a chain of Vaelmark gold and Ironspine iron, its links representing the connection between our houses and our peoples.
Symbols become reality.The gifts matter less for their material value than for what they represent the willingness to share the best of what each culture offers, to create something new through combination rather than conquest.
As we turn to face the assembled witnesses, hands still bound by the ceremonial cord, I feel the expectation and possibility in equal measure. This moment marks the end of one phase and the beginning of another, the transformation of a private partnership into a public commitment.
No going back.
14
RESSA
The ceremonial cord still binds our hands as we slip away from the celebration, its ember-glass components casting dancing shadows across the stone corridors. Public commitment follows us, but here in the quiet spaces between duty and expectation, we can finally breathe.
Kaelgor guides me through passages I didn't know existed, his knowledge of Ember Hollow's hidden pathways clear in every confident turn. The sounds of celebration fade behind us, replaced by the distant murmur of running water.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere that belongs to us."
After weeks of political maneuvering and public scrutiny, the promise of privacy feels like a luxury I'd forgotten to hope for.
We emerge onto a stone balcony overlooking the Ashfall River, its waters reflecting the last light of evening in ripples of gold and amber. The air here carries the clean scent of moving water, a welcome change from the heavy atmosphere of ceremony and negotiation.
Perfect.The thought comes unbidden, but fits. This place exists outside the reach of political calculation and publicexpectation, a pocket of peace carved from the landscape of conflict we've been navigating.
Kaelgor works to untie the ceremonial cord with careful precision, his fingers steady despite the complexity of the knots. The process requires patience, but we don’t feel inclined to rush. The binding has served its purpose, but removing it marks another transition: from public ceremony to private reality.
"There." The cord falls away, leaving only warmth. He coils it carefully, treating the symbolic object with the respect it deserves. "We can keep this or return it to the ceremonial stores."
"Keep it." The answer comes without hesitation. "Something this significant shouldn't disappear into storage."
A reminder.Not that we'll need one, but physical tokens carry weight that memory alone sometimes lacks. The cord represents when private choice became public commitment, when partnership expanded to encompass not just ourselves but our peoples.
The balcony overlooks a natural pool where the river widens and slows, its surface mirror-smooth in the evening calm. Stone steps lead down to the water's edge, worn smooth by generations of use but currently unoccupied.
"This was my brother's favorite place." Kaelgor says with a articular quality that accompanies mentions of the dead as not quite grief, not quite celebration, but something that encompasses both. "He said the water here held memory."
Sacred space.The recognition settles over me like understanding. He's brought me to a place that matters, somewhere that connects to the deepest parts of his history and identity.
"What kind of memory?"
"Stories. Songs. The voices of everyone who ever came here seeking peace or clarity or just the sound of moving water." Hesettles beside me on the stone bench someone carved into the balcony's edge. "He claimed he could hear them if he listened carefully enough."
Poetry in the practical.One more layer to understand about this man who hides depths beneath tactical precision. The brother he lost clearly influenced more than just his sense of duty and protection—also his capacity for finding meaning in simple things.
The river sounds like something beyond mere water over stone. Maybe it's suggestion, maybe it's the accumulated weight of all the conversations and confidences this place has witnessed, but the sound feels layered with significance.
"Can you hear them?"
Kaelgor tilts his head, listening with the focus he brings to everything that matters. "Sometimes. Tonight... tonight I think they're welcoming you."
Acceptance.The possibility that this place, this memory, this connection to his lost brother might extend to include me feels both humbling and profound.
