Page 67 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
I can do this.
“You’re not alone. We are with you,” Darstan suddenly says in his deep voice.
“If you have cold feet, just say the word,” Garrett whispers with a soft smile. He adds enough lilt to make sure I understand he seriously means what he says.
“This is what I want,” I reply firmly, adjusting my breathing. I look up at Aelfric. “Will you walk me to the altar?”
It’s another human tradition the demon mentioned. Rainer didn’t offer to give me away. It’s only right I ask the person who’s been like a brother to me.
Something like guilt clouds Aelfric’s eyes when he looks at me, then it is gone in a blink.
“Of course,” he says softly.
My heart is beating faster with each step I take to the pedestal. I keep my eyes trained on the rocky ground. If I look up, I’m certain I’ll find the Nightwalker’s focus trained on me. His sharp presence becomes more intimidating as I stand in front of him.
Kheirall is looking devilishly handsome in a black suit with his hair slicked back. It’s almost like some sort of wicked sorcery. I blink twice to make sure this is the same male that was lying half dead in the clearing earlier. He even looks the part of a priest.
“Why are you suspiciously prepared for this?” Aelfric asks, narrowing his eyes to the Demon Lord.
“I always rise up to the occasion when I’m needed,” Kheirall says lightly.
I take a glance at each face in the audience. I’ve never seen such despair and sorrow in a wedding. It feels more like a funeral than a merry occasion. I carry the Mark of the Blessed, the very symbol of the gods. It’s unbearable for them to watch their queen being handed off to a monster.
None of them knows the Elders forced me into this. At least I was given the terms. If there’s anyone who didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, it’s the vampire in front of me. Svenn needs this bond to work, or he’ll be stuck in the dungeon.
The vampire appears darkly amused by the whole ritual. It’s almost like he’s only playing along with everything. An unfathomable emotion flickers in his eyes briefly as he stares down at me. I can’t quite place it.
“State your name,” Kheirall says, snapping me out of my daze. There is authority in his voice instead of the playful tone he used earlier. I do as he bids and so does Svenn. I still fail to catch that terribly long name from his mouth. The Demon Lord motions Aelfric to move beside me.
“Does the vampire have a witness?” the Demon Lord asks, reiterating the same question in that archaic language. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline over Svenn’s answer.
“‘The night is my witness’, my ass. Now is not the time to be edgy,” the demon sighs. I’ve come to accept that I will never understand half of the things that come out of Kheirall’s mouth.
“Be this one’s witness,” he snaps his fingers at Ragnar.
The berserker steps forward, clasping his hands together to stand beside Svenn. He wears a formal cobalt-grey tunic that hides the ink on his skin. Ragnar gives me a tentative smile and nods.
“Dear strangers, we are gathered here tonight in the presence of the Sangail Lunae to join Queen Rhianelle Wiolant of Aelfheim and…Svenn in matrimony.” He pauses to clear his throat. “If any of you see a reason why they should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
My eyes fall briefly on Rainer and my sworn knights.
No one says a word.
“Rhianelle Wiolant, do you take this man, to have and to hold, to honor and to comfort, from this day forward, forbetter and for worse, to cherish until your promise is fulfilled?” Kheirall continues.
It takes a moment for me to find my voice. “I do,” I say with a light smile. I quite like the human wedding vows compared to the Arawynn bond agreement. It sounds sweet and less like a contract.
He asks the same question to Svenn. Any hint of doubt and confusion in his face vanishes. His dark voice fills the night. My breath catches at the mere sound.
I do.
I don’t need the Demon Lord to translate that.
With a few exchanges of words, the course of my life is altered forever.
Our odd priest motions for us to join our hands. “The rings, if you please,” he says, smoothly.
Svenn reaches for me, and I take his waiting palms. His hands are warm, unlike the first time I touched them. I feel his heat slowly seeping into my skin, soothing and comfortable. For the first time since I entered the clearing, I take a proper, deep breath.
