The Curse in the Gift (The Last Whisper of the Gods Book 2) (26 page)

Sorial’s appearance was that of a respectable gentleman, not a former stableboy or guardsman, as he stood beside Carannan to the right of the vacant throne. He was dressed in a finely tailored blue doublet worn under an expensive, meticulously fitted leather vest. He had rejected the blue hose often donned by noble grooms in favor of a less ostentatious (and more comfortable) pair of trousers that matched the doublet. He also wore a cape of the deepest blue with matching gloves, the left concealing his missing hand. His shaved scalp was oiled and his goatee and mustache were trimmed. Carannan’s costume was similar to Sorial’s but the colors were muted.

Alicia stood with Myselene to the left of the throne, her gaze locked with Sorial’s. Her dress was surprisingly simple - a strapless gown of almost blindingly pure white that brushed the ground, concealing fashionable footwear. Her golden hair, cropped above the shoulders, was shaped into a cascade of tight curls ending in ringlets, a different look for her. Tiny green blossoms were woven liberally into her tresses. Her emerald eyes sparkled with laughter. Standing next to her, but only barely in her shadow, was Vantok’s soon-to-be-queen, looking radiant in pale yellow with a single white flower adorning her hair. Even in a comparatively drab dress with a simpler hairstyle, she was nearly as stunning as the bride. Of course, Sorial had eyes only for Alicia.

Aside from the main participants and the king, who had not yet arrived, it was a sparse gathering. Sorial’s only “friends” were the grizzled head of Carannan’s militia, Rotgut, and Warburm. Primped, well-dressed, and with his paunch considerably reduced by his recent active lifestyle, the innkeeper was almost unrecognizable. Alicia’s immediate family was present but, not including Carannan, that meant only two people: Lady Evane and Lady Lavella, Alicia’s aunt and her predecessor as the Wizard’s Bride. Sorial wondered what she was thinking today, on what was surely a bittersweet occasion for her. She had missed standing here by a matter of years. Would Braddock have been her groom? And could she also carry the wizards’ potential like her brother’s daughter?
It was worth looking into, although Sorial was certain Ferguson must have considered this. Still, no possibility could be ignored.

Chancellor Toranim rounded out the group gathered for the nuptials. Including the king, the bride, and the groom, there were only ten people in the assemblage. The missing and the dead nearly matched that number: Rexall, Kara, Lamanar, Vagrum, Brendig, Darren, Annie... With those faces in attendance, it would have seemed more like a wedding and less like a necessary formality. Still, Sorial couldn’t complain. He was getting his heart’s desire. How often in the past year since being disappointed in Carannan’s study had he doubted this day would come?

Toranim announced the king’s arrival and the group of four occupying the front pew rose. Wearing the full robes of state and the heavy, jewel-encrusted crown, Azarak walked between the pews, his pace measured. Everyone except Sorial executed a deep bow or curtsy. Sorial’s indication of deference, a lowering of his head, was restrained: a sign of respect but not obeisance. Equals or nearly so. Technically, the king outranked him, but they both knew that was a formality. Soon, when the truth about Alicia’s abilities was disseminated... It then occurred to him that Azarak must already know.

He and Myselene had seen Alicia work and neither could have missed the significance of her accomplishment. Nothing had been said but they
knew
. The royal couple had respected their secrecy, probably recognizing the tactical advantage of having an unacknowledged wizard in Vantok. At least Sorial hoped that was the case.

“Honored guests,” began Azarak, standing in front of his throne with the bride to his right and the groom to his left. “We come together on this most auspicious of occasions to renew a happy tradition that has lain dormant for 930 years, when Lady Jayne III was joined to Bartolomu, the last Wizard of Vantok... until the mantle was taken up by His Magus Sorial this week. Though the gods are no longer with us, we can gain succor knowing they left our stewardship to men such as Sorial, who will hereafter be granted the title of ‘Duke’ to go along with ‘Wizard.’

“Let us take a moment’s silence to honor those whose sacrifices have brought us to this day in which, had circumstances been different, they might be here among us. Chief among them are Duke Sorial’s parents, Kara and Lamanar, and Lady Alicia’s lifelong guardian, Vagrum.”

Nine heads bowed and, as the moment’s silence lingered, Sorial found himself thinking not of the dead but of a more grim consideration: How many of those attending today’s ceremony would be alive in another year’s time? If The Lord of Fire attacked soon, as seemingly everyone in Azarak’s inner circle expected, would Vantok even be standing at Midwinter next year? Therein lay Sorial’s greatest challenge as the city’s principal defender. He felt inadequate to the task.

“Antiquity doesn’t inform us what pomp may have attended the marriage of a wizard to his bride. Likely, it was marked by a city-wide celebration - a grand holiday repeated once or twice per generation. In keeping with the wishes of the couple and the demands of necessity, today’s ceremony has been kept private, although it will be acknowledged throughout the city following its conclusion.

“Duke Sorial has bound himself to Vantok. Let now Vantok’s favorite daughter finalize that agreement by giving herself to him, both in body and in spirit.”

Azarak turned to Alicia. “Lady Alicia, do you willingly give your troth to Duke Sorial and vow to be his true and steadfast wife and companion until death takes one of you from the other?”

“I do so vow, Your Majesty, with my body, my mind, my heart, and my spirit.” Alicia’s voice was clear and certain. Her eyes were locked with Sorial’s. She didn’t look away from her groom as she said the words.

“Let it be acknowledged by all present that Lady Alicia has consented to the marriage.” The king shifted his attention to Sorial. “Duke Sorial, do you willingly give your troth to both Lady Alicia and Vantok, the city she represents? Do you vow to be true and steadfast to both? Do you vow to give your services to no other city while this one stands and to seek no other wife while the Lady Alicia lives?”

“I do so vow, Your Majesty, with my body, my mind, my heart, my spirit, and my magic.” Sorial’s voice, in contrast to Alicia’s, was thick with emotion and husky as a result. She smiled broadly when he said the words and he found the corners of his lips turning upward as well.

“Of all the duties permitted to me by my status as king, the joining two people in marriage is one of the most fulfilling. Nothing in our daily existences, except perhaps the birth of a child, is more life-affirming than a marriage. It is the ultimate expression of optimism. With this in mind, I affirm that Lord Sorial and Lady Alicia are joined. Let the record show that, after more than nine lean centuries, the Wizard has once again found his Bride.”

Sorial and Alicia stepped toward one another until they were less than a foot apart. At this point, tradition called for them to clasp hands in confirmation of the union. In deference to Sorial’s infirmity, they skipped that part of the ceremony, instead gazing at one another for a long moment before leaning forward to brush lips in a brief, decorous kiss.

More than five years after their first encounter in the stable at The Wayfarer’s Comfort, Sorial had become the “great man” Alicia had boasted she would one day marry. Whether he would continue to meet those lofty expectations was a matter for the future to determine.

* * *

The rest of the day was a wearying whirlwind for the couple. It was especially tiring for Sorial, who had not yet fully recovered from the effects of his injury. Although there were no evident or long-lasting physical marks, his loss of blood produced a lassitude that grew as the day progressed. Following the wedding, there was a private reception in the main throne room, where Sorial and Alicia greeted several dozen of the city’s most influential nobles (including some who were technically in rebellion) and citizens. After that came a six-course wedding dinner attended by seemingly everyone who had been at the reception. Finally, as the clock ticked close to midnight, an exhausted Sorial and Alicia were allowed to retire to their shared bedchamber.

Alicia doffed her shoes and dress and lay on the oversized bed in only her underclothes. “It’s done,” she whispered, almost wonderingly, watching as he undressed. “What did Warburm say to you before he left the dinner?” She had noticed the innkeeper come up to Sorial and whisper something in his ear before laughing and departing.

“He said the easy part is over. Now things get really hard.” He lay down beside her, naked except for a broadcloth covering his midsection. It was a warm night but not unpleasant. The floor-to-ceiling windows, which opened onto a south-facing porch, were open and a gentle breeze stirred the curtains around the bed.

“Not hard enough, apparently,” said Alicia, her hand working its way under his lone garment. Her fingers, cool and nimble, began to dance and her lack of experience wasn’t an issue when it came to eliciting a response. Perhaps he wasn’t
that
tired after all...

Was it any less exciting now that it was longer illicit? Nothing would ever match their first night in the water and mud by the riverside but there was something more satisfying about
this
. Alicia might no longer be the so-called “forbidden fruit,” but that didn’t mean he wanted her any less.

Within the confines of the palace, Alicia was quieter but no less energetic. Sorial rapidly discovered that his wife was intent on making up for lost time. Once was not enough for her nor was twice. She rode him like she might ride the sea, with the same undulating motion. Even outside of water, Alicia could make it seem like she was immersed. The experience was delirious. Up and down, up and down. By the time she was sated, Sorial was depleted. As he drifted off to sleep, he was conscious of her curled against him, her damp flesh pressed against his in all the right places. So this was marriage...

* * *

Ariel wasn’t in camp when Justin returned, which was probably a good thing for her. He was in a black mood and it was possible he might have said or done something they would both later regret. He no longer wanted to kill her - his rage had diminished during the return trip - but he was angry and bitterly disappointed. Her misinformation had cost not only a young man’s life but had dealt a crushing blow to Justin’s overall plans. Either Sorial wasn’t dead or someone had immediately taken his place. It was almost certainly the former; not even Ferguson could move fast enough to get someone to and through a portal in three days. Yoel, the boy Justin had been grooming for a half-decade to claim The Lord of Earth’s mantle, had been pulverized in a gruesome way that left no doubt that his element was claimed. Somehow Sorial had avoided Ariel’s death-blow and that was worrying. Justin had expected this untried stableboy to be an easy victim once he was located. If that wasn’t the case, the situation would become messier than he had envisioned. He had never expected to use Ariel in combat; her role was to be one of intelligence-gathering and intimidation. But if Sorial remained a factor when the armies met, he might have to re-think that.

He no longer had a stand-by for Earth. Even if he killed Sorial, which was an immediate goal, he lacked a candidate to fill the position. He doubted the same was true of Ferguson. He would have to set up guards around the perimeters of all three portals to eliminate anyone approaching them. Justin could ill afford to trade Sorial for another of the prelate’s puppets. There were only three possible wizards remaining in Justin’s small stable, none with an aptitude for water or earth. There was, however, a potential Lord of Air. At times like this, Justin wondered whether it might be better to replace Ariel. Did reliability trump experience?

This situation reintroduced the necessity of entering single combat against the efreet. If Vantok was protected by magic, he would need more than himself and Ariel to ensure the city’s rapid fall. Justin couldn’t risk a slim victory or worse. If his advance stalled at Vantok, it might never move forward again. Anything less than a resounding triumph in the first battle was as good as a loss. All of Justin’s plans, everything he had worked toward for more than a decade, would be in shambles if he failed at Vantok. He would never see the endgame. Access to The Otherverse would be forever blocked. And, in the end, breaking through that seemingly impregnable gate was all that mattered. He needed chaos and order and the power of all four elements. Only by crushing and uniting humanity could he achieve that.

Justin wondered if Ariel had learned of her failure and departed before his return in order to avoid facing him. It was a possibility. More likely, she was looking for her mother, an obsession she did little to deny. He shrugged although there was no one to see the gesture. There was little else for her to do at the moment. They knew where Sorial was but eliminating him would be nearly impossible and worth neither the attendant risk nor effort. Not only was he alerted to the seriousness of their intentions, but he would choose to be in a location that maximized his advantages and minimized theirs. Ariel wouldn’t be needed until after the Royal Wedding and he was sure she would be in place on the appointed day. He likely wouldn’t see her until it was time to advance the next phase of his fragmented and reworked plan.

This is what it meant to command an army and formulate a campaign. Not for the first time, Justin wished he had selected a life of quiet contemplation. Now it was time to prepare to confront the efreet. If he lost that battle, it would render his other concerns moot.