Dark Lord's Wedding (28 page)

What an offensive absolute! Spikes of outrage cut through Hiresha’s chest. She needed to scream them out. This woman shouldn’t dare insult Tethiel. She had called him a liar. Hiresha should fling the men off her exquisite crystal pillars. She should Lighten all these people and fly them over the Gargantuan. A thorough dousing might bring them to their senses.

Hiresha rested her brow on her studded palm and breathed out all her heat. She couldn’t blame the masses. Purest Elbe was right to be upset. Tethiel was a liar by definition as an illusionist, even if he didn’t see it that way.

Purest Elbe knelt before Hiresha, lifting the glass globe. “We can’t believe you want your marriage to bring more Strife into the world.”

“Your point is made. I’m certain you could blockade the wedding night.” Hiresha would have to force a path through the bodies for her guests. She could do so with ease, with her dragon. The demonstration of force might impress the kings, yet it certainly would lose the City of Gold as an ally. Without the cooperation of Purest Elbe, Hiresha would likely have to commit to the kings’ warmongering.

“You told us the truth,” Purest Elbe said. “We trust you to do what is right.”

Hiresha had to admit she could’ve avoided this entire nuisance with a lie. To undo it, she might have to deceive. That was no better. If Hiresha did nothing, then the wedding wouldn’t happen. Without the wedding, the jaguar knight would come after her, doubtless with a menagerie of warriors. If Hiresha didn’t marry, the Bleeding Maiden might overthrow Tethiel. Hiresha might have to roam homeless for the rest of her life.

She had to marry. She had to lie.

Or Hiresha needed a new plan.

She drifted down to Purest Elbe. Hiresha overlaid her hands with the other woman’s on the firefly orb. “Let us find a better way.”

The entrance to the Garden of Purity was a sorry sight. Women and children with grime under their fingernails clamored for a glimpse of Purest Elbe and, Hiresha had to conclude, of herself. Not one man could be seen, except for Jerani. He strode toward Hiresha with the pink of his palm raised. The stinger guards pushed him back. Hiresha would speak to him after leaving the Purest’s garden. Many needed to be excluded before a place could be considered sacred, apparently.

Purest Elbe offered a hand down to a boat. It would carry them across a moat, beneath stone arches designed to look like tree branches. Hiresha didn’t have time to be rowed. It was already morning, and she only had until noon. She offered Purest Elbe a hand up.

They flew over the garden wall, above crenulations of beehives, and into a profusion of color. They walked on greens, were surrounded by aromatic pinks, buzzing yellows, tinkling blues, jumping oranges, and fluttering teals.

The Purest gave no sign that the leap through the sky had alarmed her. She tucked her feather tresses behind her ears. “Tethiel might yet be a woman, as you say. If I was wrong to accuse Tethiel of being otherwise, may you both forgive us.”

Hiresha inclined her head. Maybe she had been the most at fault. She had told the truth. If marrying Tethiel was the right thing, Hiresha should’ve been willing to sacrifice for it. She couldn’t let herself be thwarted by the small minded.

Yet Purest Elbe was no fool. Her eyes were bright with thought. “We might better understand if we knew why you wish to marry Tethiel.”

“Many reasons.” Most were none of the Purest’s concern. Hiresha said, “Tethiel has resource. He has people. I have little enough of either as an exile. An alliance with him would free me to innovate wonders and build greatness.”

The calm of the garden was unsettling. Everything appeared at peace, as if the ferns and flowers had been allowed to grow wild. Yet it was tended. Grasses must’ve been cut lest they encroach over the footpath. Weeds would’ve been uprooted. The grand trees of the rainforest would’ve been chopped down here long ago. Only fruit trees remained, and their branches bowed to the breaking point. This place of harmony relied on destruction.

Purest Elbe lifted a crescent knife and cut down a papaya. The blade dug into the fruit, flaying it of its yellowish-green skin. “Could another person fulfill your needs?”

Hiresha might yet obtain everything she required. She would allow the Purest to believe she guided the conversation. “You mean, if I married someone else?”

The Purest sliced into the fruit’s flesh. It dripped down her wrist as she raised the morsel toward Hiresha. Lapis lazuli nails skimmed over Hiresha’s cheek. The wetness of the fruit pressed against her lips.

Hiresha caught a whiff of rottenness. The papaya was too ripe. If the Purest tried to push it into Hiresha’s mouth then she would slap it away. Instead Purest Elbe let its softness rest against Hiresha.

They might’ve stayed that close together all morning, with butterflies swirling around in flashes of green and red, with the air a whirling hum, yet Hiresha had too much to do. She guided the fruit into her mouth. Her tongue brushed against the warmth of Elbe’s fingers. The papaya smarted her with its sweetness. Subtler flavors followed, a muskiness of secrets shared, and a blushing richness.

Hiresha swallowed. Elbe’s stag-beetle earring dangled inches away. Iridescence of cyan and viridian rippled over the exoskeleton. The natural beauty of the insect wasn’t as objectionable as jewels set to emulate one. Its second left leg had bounced askance. Hiresha made it right.

“If I choose not to marry Tethiel,” Hiresha said, “I would be wise to delay telling him yet. The Lord of the Feast is dangerous.”

“Be truthful to all. Invite whom you please to your wedding and tell them you’ll marry the one most suited to you, Hiresha.”

“And Bright Palms will number among the guests. If I choose against Tethiel, their magic can subdue his.”

Elbe stood shorter than Hiresha now. Hiresha had grown an eighth of an inch since they had last met, though Elbe likely hadn’t noticed. The Purest said, “The Bright Palms have no flexibility in their ideas. At your wedding they may bring disharmony.”

“Even stone can be reshaped. I’ll negotiate with the Bright Palms.” Hiresha had to concede that might be difficult.

Walking hand in hand through the garden with Elbe came all too easily. Hiresha had to tighten her relaxing muscles. She had to fight against the tranquility. She was deceiving Elbe, after all. But then, Elbe’s suggestion had been excellent. Hiresha shouldn’t marry Tethiel if she could find a better choice, someone more dependable. She should entertain other possibilities. If Elbe was one, so be it.

Hiresha could be truthful and still have the wedding she wanted, unless she wasn’t being honest with herself.

Other Purests lounged around a pool. The lily pads were big enough to lie across, though they wouldn’t have supported anyone’s weight but Hiresha’s. She exchanged a few words with the women. Hiresha didn’t let herself say anything wrong. They didn’t say anything interesting.

A Purest wore a peculiar necklace. A bulb in shape, it appeared as if petals from flowers had been dried then glued together. The red of a rose nestled against the purple of iris; the yellow of orchid rested against a lotus of pink. Hiresha asked Elbe about it when they were alone again.

“Rare bees make them for their children out of love,” Elbe said. “Merchants bring the petal cocoons across the Empire to the City of Gold. Women may give them to each other.”

“As a sign of devotion?”

“Yes.” Elbe touched Hiresha’s shoulder, at the edge of her backless dress. The Purest’s fingers ran downward. She left trails of heat over Hiresha’s skin. Her gemstone nails clicked against the diamond piercings. “The jewel pattern on your back is a sucker fish?”

“A kraken,” Hiresha said. “A unique creature of rare intelligence whom no one understood.”

“Then you are much alike.”

“My skin isn’t half so changeably vibrant.” A stinging chill washed from Hiresha’s abdomen, up her chest, to lodge in her throat as a prickling lump. “Earlier you asked why I wished to marry Tethiel. I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Not even its greater part.”

Elbe traced between the diamonds. Each time she grazed one, it pressed sharp against Hiresha’s core.

“Tethiel knows me as no one else does.”

“Then who are you?” Elbe’s breath tickled against Hiresha’s neck.

Hiresha told her, and Elbe listened.

“
An invitation on vellum illuminated with gold foil and gemstone paints would suffice for a royal wedding.”

“
I agree. We deserve better, my heart. Our invitations should captivate the imagination. They should enchant and enthrall.”

“
They will be keys. I will forge them, and they’ll unlock the enchantments in the wedding palace.”

“
Exquisite! Make the keys distinct, gold for the kings and silver for the lesser guests. Men are born unequal, and for that we must all be grateful.”

“
Excepting those who don’t receive an invitation. They’ll have every right to ingratitude.”

Jerani stumbled through the street maze. He swayed to a stop in front of vultures. They hunched over a carcass, maybe of the monkey he had heard last night. The ribs jiggled as beaks pecked at them. A vulture spread its wings in warning, and Jerani pulled himself around the corner.

He had to reach the safe house before the midday’s heat. His skin was already burning, his leg an angry throb. He should’ve bothered the lady earlier about that cut. Maybe he should’ve waited for her longer outside the walled garden, but it had to be close to noon.

Now he would have to wait until midnight.

Chills tinkled down his back. Something twitched beneath his arm. It was her jewel, still stuck to his skin. It shone.

The lady swooped in front of him. The world bent toward her, and he tripped.

She caught him with arms that could hold a mountain. The cold jewels of her hands pressed against his brow. “You did have a legitimate reason to seek me. This will cure your infection.”

The lady plucked the gem from his side and moved it to his shin. Its touch zinged him to the bone. Being held by her was a jumbling whorl between life and death and life.

“You can thank me,” the lady said, “by never disrobing in front of my dragon again.”

Heat flashed back over his skin hotter than before. The lady must’ve seen them, Celaise and Jerani, Jerani and Celaise. The dragon had told the lady. She knew what they had done together. At the time he hadn’t been thinking of anything but Celaise. Jerani stared down at the alley’s dirt and at broken pottery and at a dead bee. How could he ever look up at the lady again?

“Do not return to my dragon. Don’t follow me to my rest,” the lady said. “You don’t cover your tracks well enough, and others might discern why you’re there.”

“We can’t. I mean, we have to. The lord told us.”

“Then you’re being ground between two diamonds,” the lady said. “If you approach me at sleep again, your leg will fall off.” She tapped the gemstone on his shin. It flickered from purple to red. “Tell the lord you had no choice.”

Jerani gripped his thigh. His leg tingled with numbness, like it might drop off at the knee.

The lady floated back into the air. “Before I go, I must ask you something. Is Celaise a good person?”

“The best.”

“She might not be, without you.”

Jerani had answered right away before his thoughts caught up, but why had the lady asked? He risked a look. Her eyes were lighter than when they had first met, less midnight and more purple dusk.