Dark Lord's Wedding (63 page)

“By then we’ll be wed and soon gone.” Hiresha wrapped her own arms around Tethiel. She kissed him in full view of both assassins and kings.

Lightning within the clouds lit Hiresha and Tethiel white. They darkened again while more bolts of energy lashed the sea below. The storms crept over the full moon. Hiresha gauged the eclipse would be covered from this vantage point.

“We must sail back for the ritual.” Hiresha commanded the dragon to swing round the corsair. “The blood moon is imminent.”

“Could you not steer the ship above the clouds?” Tethiel asked. “We’d be high enough for unforgettable memories and recurrent nightmares.”

“Storms soar far taller than mediocre clouds. Too little vital essence would remain in the air at that elevation.”

“All great weddings make us breathless.” Tethiel lifted one of her tentacles and kissed it on its purple-ring pattern.

“We rented a tower in the city and should make use of it.”

With the prow aimed west, the sea shimmered like molten silver. As long as they continued, the moon would stay above the clouds. Hiresha’s jellyfish flitted around the whooshing sweeps of the dragon’s wings. The crystal construct parted the air and eased the ship’s passing. The dragon dove first into the mists then leaped up. The brightest stars were all planets, and those shone through the amethyst scales. The ship followed, coasting back over the fogbank.

“To think,” Hiresha said, “some brides choose an immovable location for their ritual. How helpless they would be to the vicissitudes of weather.”

“How wrong to leave the thunder behind,” Tethiel said. “It adds verve to great doings.”

“It will still be audible, merely less percussive on our skeletons.”

“Chamber music of thunder with candlelight of lightning? Delectable!”

Hiresha and Tethiel reached the table with Celaise and Alyla. The Feaster didn’t sit on her pillow so much as hover above it, connected to the night sky by a lattice of webbing not seen but felt as pressure on the skin. Tethiel overshadowed her.

Hiresha took her position behind Alyla. Beside her chair crouched the other Bright Palm, the clear relative of Jerani.

“Alyla, have you regained your senses below your neck?” Hiresha grasped the girl’s sharp-boned hand. “Has your power healed you?”

“The jewels of your hand are smooth and sharp. I can feel.” Alyla stared at her fingers. Their tips bloomed with white light then faded. “I still cannot move.”

“Soon,” the other Bright Palm said.

Tethiel said, “How luscious that you could join us, Bright Palm. Celaise, won’t you introduce him?”

“He’s a murderer, tried to nail me.”

Jerani popped open his mouth. “He’s Gio. He was a Great Heart too.”

Tethiel said, “He must also be the one who pulled Celaise back from the crevasse of death.”

“Only to protect the Innocent,” the Bright Palm said. “She saved them.”

“And then he tried to kill me again.” Feathers writhed over Celaise’s gown.

Hiresha tapped her fingers together. “Yet he restrains himself now, and he found a common goal with you in the past. Most reassuring.”

The power in Alyla swelled about her neck in a throbbing paleness. “The Innocent are best served tonight by making an alliance with you, Lady of Gems.”

“I am ready to fulfill my side of the bargain,” Hiresha said.

“Before the ritual?” Alyla’s question was not unreasonable, considering Hiresha had promised to remove all Feasters.

“Did you imagine I’d clap my hands and all the Feasters in all the lands would die?” Hiresha asked.

Alyla gazed to Tethiel.

“I’d like to think I have such an appetite,” he said. Beside him, the tips of Celaise’s feathers flared red hot. “To consume all in one sitting.”

Hiresha said, “The more reasonable course isn’t destruction but redefinition. Stanza six of your twelfth tenet is, ‘Feasters will prey first on the meek, then on the mighty.’ Correct?”

“Yes,” Alyla said.

“Then by definition, someone who does neither cannot be a Feaster.” Hiresha reached across the table to Tethiel. “Take my hand and swear that it’ll be so. Your kind will no longer accost. You’ll only fascinate willing patrons.”

His embroidered glove of sharks and sea serpents folded over her jewels. The gold monsters threaded through the dark silk, tickling her palm with their teeth.

“Swear there will be no more Feasters,” she said.

“Never more,” he said. “Celaise must also swear.”

Celaise gripped her own hand, holding it back. “We must be able to defend ourselves.”

“No,” Alyla said. “Self-defense can justify any slaughter.”

“She is right,” Hiresha said. “You must not kill with your magic, though you may use it to deceive and escape.”

“The Feast is over,” Tethiel said. “By savoring smaller portions we’ll eat longer and better.”

Celaise’s gown gouged the table where her feathers brushed the surface. She glared across at the Bright Palms. Then her eyes of streaming sky fell back to Tethiel’s hand on her shoulder.

The tips of his dragon glove angled close to her throat. “It’s the way forward, Lady Celaise. If we learn anything from history it’s that we learn nothing. But this is new. If it’s folly, it’s at least original.”

“You’ll evolve,” Hiresha said, “by being less virulent. A plague that weakens itself into a cold will spread further. It will endure.”

“We will be shadow-casters,” Tethiel said to Celaise, “or ‘casters’ for a more-manageable mouthful. No longer mangy things of the night but respected court illusionists and festival entertainers. Or would you prefer to continue your unlife under the spikes of Bright Palms?”

Celaise opened her hand, and her talons extended. “No one should have to live in fear.”

“And no man can survive without a taste of it,” Tethiel said. “Thus we’ll always be desired.”

Celaise snapped her fingers forward and gripped Hiresha and Tethiel. Her touch was colder than the breeze wafting over the sea, and stronger. Excellent! Now Hiresha required only one last person to agree.

Alyla blinked while the rest of her swayed along with her hammock chair. “Centuries of war haven’t purged all the Feasters. We could do it in a night.”

“I did promise a memorable occasion,” Tethiel said.

“Then we’re agreed?” Hiresha asked.

“With no more Feasters …” Alyla waited for more air to draw in her chest. “…Bright Palms would have no purpose.”

If she didn’t cooperate, Hiresha would have her dragon fling both Bright Palms into the sea. Should that happen, the wedding could hardly be considered a success. The honeymoon would be nothing but fighting.

Hiresha said, “Your purpose is to protect the Innocent. You’ll find new and better ways to do so.”

“And we will write them as tenets.” Alyla looked to the other Bright Palm.

He took Alyla’s shining hand and laid it atop the rest. It was done. All was finished. Hiresha and Tethiel had brought all the guests together and bound them. No more bargains needed to be made that night, and Hiresha could enjoy the ritual.

Hiresha embraced Tethiel, and they spun twice midair. The tentacles of her gown splayed out like a starfish. If she could carve this moment out of time it would be a red diamond.

“Once in a lifetime, once in an age,” she said, “once in a world.”

She had such a diamond already in the engagement necklace. It unwound from her wrist, and she set the trigonal jewel on its proper crystal stand near the prow, opposite Tethiel’s orange sapphire. Yes, it was time. She would don her final gown.

Hiresha’s other maids raised a curtain at the postern side of the corsair. The groom wouldn’t see her too soon in her wedding armor. Servers carted out a dress stand, and on it shone peerless bronze. Brighter than mirrors, the fitted plates of her skirt descended to the floor. They would shift as needed, sliding over each other as she walked.

“At last I may dress myself.” She Attracted the armor around her. The metal fitted over her arms and flexed with her breathing. She was impervious. She was ready to wed.

“Hope you can take it off as quick.” Miss Barrows winked. “For the consummation.”

“Do you underestimate the flexibility of my armorcraft, Miss Barrows? All that need be removed are the scale leggings.”

That pleased her.

Tethiel might need several more minutes to don his armor. She would be hard pressed waiting much longer than that for her groom. From the other side of the curtains came the practiced clicks of the tables being rearranged to form a central aisle. Hiresha resealed the furniture to the deck with enchantments.

Hiresha had crafted his armor to fit, and it would. What she couldn’t be certain of was that the armor would suit him. His aplomb needed to be absolute as he stood opposite her to exchange vows.

Looking down into the corsair, she counted every piece of wealth in the glass hold, seven-hundred and ninety amulets, axe heads, and lip plugs. She estimated its value in pure gold, diamonds, and sapphires. It only took her fifteen seconds.

To pass the excruciating time, she went to where Sagai and Naroh were shackled to the deck. It wouldn’t matter if they saw her first. Their lives were hers.

“Stand up.” Hiresha withdrew the power that had kept them bound.

They stood together, shoulder to shoulder but not holding hands. Caution and hope flickered over their faces. Sagai picked at the star ruby remaining between his wrists. Hiresha would not let the assassins be free completely, perhaps not ever.

“You both tracked me to my dragon with the help of a Feaster. That’s not a question.”

“We did.” Sagai’s voice was a croak. He may have worn himself out shouting in the dragon’s belly.

“Then you’re as guilty of collusion as I in the eyes of the Oasis Empire. Miss Barrows, go tell Fos it is so. Minara, tell Celaise. She will no doubt paint your guilt in blood across the capital or some nonsense.” Hiresha lifted her arms to the assassins. Her gauntlets ended in amethyst claws. “As we are the same, you may be forgiven.”

The wet intensity of Naroh’s eyes beamed with moonlight. She was just as hoarse. “Then we can go?”

“If you wish.” Hiresha motioned to the side of the ship. A fogbank flowed by, tinted red by a nearby jellyfish. “Leap.”

“Is land below us?” Sagai asked.

Naroh gulped. “Or sea?”

“You may also stay for the ritual.” Hiresha turned from them. The slap of Jerani’s feet had drawn near, which indicated her groom was ready.

The throat singer started a keening song, and Hiresha stepped forth, out from the curtains, into view. All the guests stood. She would walk the aisle between them by herself. She needed no one to guide her. This was her gown, her ship, her night, and after this marriage, her lands.

Thus began an age of wonders.

The fennec took it upon himself to strut in front of her as a chirping herald. Hiresha walked past the guests, one armored step at a time. Elbe gestured with her hands in an opening motion from her heart. She wasn’t ashamed of her tears. The kings bowed their heads. The jaguar knight lifted his tail in salute. Its spots merged together at the tufted tip into total blackness.

Ix and Saul stood on opposite sides of the aisle, and they ceased their staring match long enough to notice her. Next, Fos knelt and slid his arms forward to touch her bronze boots. The guests all paid her homage. Celaise flourished out her cape to its full wingspan and prostrated herself, yet that was illusion. The real girl only nodded. Last, Hiresha passed the Talon. He cut his tongue and spat blood in her path. He honored her.

Hiresha lifted her gaze to Tethiel. There he loomed in his radiance, in front of the engagement necklaces. He wore her armor with the same ease as any of his coats. The plates fit together over his chest with equivalent beauty in design as the faces of a diamond. A helm crowned his head, a match to hers, and his high collar of bronze guarded the back of his neck. Between them there would be no weakness, only strength.

“I would choose you,” she said across from him.

The dawnstone gleamed orange on the pedestal to her left. The red diamond shone beside him.