Page 90 of The Gambler's Prize
Chapter 36
Florian
We’re having a courthouse wedding. There are only a few people that we really want here to celebrate with us. As Grimes says, our love bloomed in the stark surroundings of the Galbravan desert, and it’s fitting to make it official with a simple ceremony. I still dress up, though. This is me we’re talking about. I’m wearing my whitest shirt, buttoned respectfully high, even if Grimes is a terrible influence and tried to make meloosen a few more buttons before we left the house. I’m also wearing a new pair of breeches of the most delicate material, and new shoes, the buckles polished and perfect. And several bright Callinthen necklaces. My hair hangs loose, except for two plaits which are twisted around my head like a crown. My own attempt at recreating Rab’s style. Grimes says it looks even better, but then he’s very biased. Grimes places an extra flower in my hair as we stand outside the courthouse, then kisses my forehead.
“You’re perfect, Florian,” he says.
“Youare.”
He looks amazing, dressed in a dark, sober Rhennian jacket and trousers which suit his imposing frame. Even through the jacket, his muscles are visible. Formalwear looks good on him. No dour hooded cloak in sight. His eyes are lined with kohl, as per Rhennian tradition for special events. I decided against joining him, because I don’t want the makeup running halfway down my face like a sooty river when I inevitably cry during the ceremony.
He takes my hand and we walk inside the courthouse. Breta and her family are waiting for us. They traveled all the way here by stagecoach to celebrate with us. My eyes get moist, already, as they come forward to greet us. Probably the first of many tearful outbursts from me today, if I’m honest. But I don’t feel like I have to hide my “Callinthen” emotions anymore. Grimes never gets tired of my feelings.
“Congratulations, love,” Breta says giving me a big, motherly hug.
“You two look just perfect together,” Prevana says, kissing our cheeks.
The little kids, Beveen and Tav, crowd around, overexcited. But they aren’t quite so little now. They’ve grown up a lot in the last eighteen months. Beveen has lost her baby teeth since I last saw her, and her adult teeth look adorably huge on her.
“Did you two enjoy the journey on the stagecoach?” I ask them.
“It was amazing,” Beveen says with astarry-eyed look. “We saw the whole desert.”
“No, it wasn’t amazing. It was hot and sweaty and exhausting.” Prevana gives a resigned laugh. “But well worth it to be here for your wedding.”
“I told you, Grimes,” Breta crows. “Iknewyou and Florian were made for each other. I was right.”
“Yes, very clever,” he growls, sounding like it’s killing him to admit it. He can never stand to be proved wrong.
I smack his arm. “Be nice. This is your wedding day.”
Breta glances at the prison tattoo on his neck and her face gets serious. “So this is what you were hiding under that cloak all that time. Silly man. As if I or my girls would care about something like that.”
Grimes clears his throat, no words coming out, just a gruff nod of thanks.
“I told you it was silly to worry about the tattoo,” I say.
“No cheek from you,” he says.
“Yes, Boss,” I say without thinking, and then my face goes on fire as I remember I’m in public.
“Why are you still calling him Boss?” Beveen asks, wrinkling her nose in thought. “You don’t work for him anymore.”
“Come on, girls, give Florian your gifts,” Breta say, struggling not to laugh.
They reach into their pockets and bring out some crumpled pieces of paper. Ithinkthe drawings are supposed to be of me and Grimes, with a lot of red hearts drawn around us. They’re absolutely adorable, if a bit off in terms of perspective. I’m all stick-like limbs and masses of dark hair coming almost down to my ankles. Grimes is just a huge blob in a hood, his mouth a grim straight line. He isn’t that much taller than me: they have himat least twice my size. But his facial expression isn’t too far off reality.
“These are wonderful,” I say. “Aren’t they, Grimes?”
“Er, yes. Very good indeed,” he says, looking studiously at the wall. He’s no good at diplomacy.
Jagder, my best friend from Rhennes, rolls in just in time as usual. He has a rueful, apologetic smile for me, and a warm embrace. His wife kisses my cheek. They both look exhausted after the long trip. They arrived in Obal a few days ago but they still haven’t recovered. They’re aristocrats and not used to roughing it. Like I used to be until Grimes toughened me up, as I like to joke with him. And he rolls his eyes and says I’m still spoiled to the core.
“Settling down at last,” Jagder says to me, slapping my back. “You’re letting the side down. I thought you were going to party your whole life.”
“I still party,” I protest.
“Face it, you’ll soon be a boring married like the rest of us,” he says as his wife giggles.
