Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (6 page)

Firekeeper sighed, recalling lessons in deportment.

"
Have a good time, sweet Firekeeper
," Blind Seer called after her.

To all the listeners but one, his words came as a low, mournful howl.

I
n the interests of political harmony—and because all had assumed that it would be augmented by her mother and three sisters—the bride's party was very small. It consisted of Elise, Firekeeper, and the groom's young twin sisters, Minnow and Anemone.

These last were perfectly identical, still slight and slim, with straight silvery-blonde hair and eyes of a translucent green. Whether or not they would be beauties was still open to question, but there was no doubt they would be striking.

The little girls had celebrated their twelfth birthday four days before and were still trying to live up to the solemnity of their great age. Most of the time they managed, but every so often they would burst into pealing giggles. They were giggling when Firekeeper, Elise, and Ninette entered the room where all the bridal attendants were to wait before processing into the Sphere Chamber for the wedding.

Dressed in gowns of identical style to those worn by Firekeeper and Elise—though their underdress was gold-hued silk and their surcoat a sea-green brocade with a watery texture to the fabric—the twins had crowded up to a door and were peeking through a crack, giggling at what they saw.

Curiosity overcame Elise's first impulse, which was to drag the little girls back and remind them of the solemnity of the occasion. She noticed an older woman seated in a corner keeping a careful eye on them and decided that they must not be quite out of line. The woman had "old nurse" written in every line of her pleasant face and would not have brooked disorderly behavior.

"What are you looking at?" Elise asked, gliding toward the twins. The new slippers that had been supplied with the gown were superbly crafted. She made a mental note to learn the cobbler's name before she went back to Eagle's Nest.

Minnow—or was it Anemone?—started back guiltily, but both twins' gazes were bright with excitement.

"We were looking at the people coming into the hall," Minnow said. "It's so funny watching them."

"They bow to each other," Anemone added, "and say nice things but when they think no one can see them, the
looks
on their faces!"

"Certainly you've seen the like before," Elise said. "You've grown up in this court."

"Not really," Anemone said with charming honesty. "Father's title was duke before he became king, but it was just a courtesy. Everyone knew that we—his children, I mean—weren't going to be anything, so we didn't get invited to these big events."

"Father was," Minnow clarified, "and Mother, but not us. Anyhow, we were too young even if anyone had wanted to invite us. The ball on Bridgeton was the first time either of us went to a formal event."

And
, thought Elise a trace bitterly,
because everyone thought your father might become king
—
though then they thought he was destined for Hawk Haven's throne, not Bright Bay's
—
then everyone wanted to treat you like ladies
.

She pushed the memory from her, knowing that her bitterness came from the memory of Jet Shield—then her betrothed husband—dancing attendance on the two little girls.

"Then was the coronation your first court event?" Elise asked.

"Pretty much," Anemone said, "and then we were sitting in front with Father and Mother and didn't get a chance to watch the guests."

Firekeeper had been standing back diffidently listening to the conversation. There was something guarded about her posture, a tension that reminded Elise that the wolf-woman was even less familiar with such events than the twins.
They
at least had been raised on the fringes of such things. Firekeeper had lived at Hawk Haven's court, but had always been a stranger there.

"Does everyone remember," Elise asked brightly, "what we practiced at rehearsal? Shall we run through our parts one more time while we wait? Ninette, you stand in for the crown princess."

Ninette did so, blushing slightly. Elise suspected that internally her maid was counting down the moments to when she could be excused to join the other favored servants on the back tiers of the balcony reserved for them.

They had just finished going through their parts and Ninette was straightening Firekeeper's cap, which had come askew again, when a herald in green and gold strode into the room. The nurse paused in the middle of inspecting the twins to make a deep curtsy.

"The Crown Princess Sapphire," announced the herald rather unnecessarily, for the lady in question was immediately behind him.

If the attendants' gowns had been chosen for simplicity, that must have been to free more seamstresses to work on the bride's gown. Although not so ornate as to be at odds with those worn by her attendants, Sapphire's gown was an elegant tribute to the dressmaker's art.

Her undergown was close-fitting scarlet silk, cut square across the shoulders, but fairly high to the throat—modest yet revealing. The shimmering white surcoat was quite elaborate, possessed of hanging sleeves that trailed to the floor, a sweeping length to the back that recalled a cloak, and elegant fur trim that began at the square neckline, then decreased slightly down the front to create a dainty breastplate before splitting into two sweeping rows that accented the wearer's hips.

Crown Princess Sapphire was no mere slip of a girl. Wielding a sword and handling a warhorse had made her broad in the shoulders, muscular in the arms. The clinging silk of the gown hinted at the strength of her long legs.

Like her attendants, Sapphire wore a headpiece, but whereas theirs were maidenly caps, equally suitable for either the little girls or the two slightly older women, Sapphire's shouted her importance—a jeweled crown laid over a veil that framed her forehead and spilled down her back almost to her elbows. Sapphire's blue-black hair was even longer, falling past her hips, a vibrant contrast to the surcoat's silver-white.

She looks wonderful
, Elise thought,
and yet somehow odd. I suppose it's because I never thought to see her wed wearing any color but blue
.

Indeed, there was nothing blue in the bride's ensemble unless her own brilliant eyes could be counted. She spun before her attendants and the gown flowed with the motion. The gem-stones in her crown glimmered in the light from the high windows.

"It is," Crown Princess Sapphire said smiling, "the most beautiful dress I have ever worn, and well worth all the fuss."

Elise grinned. "I hope you make certain the seamstresses hear your praise."

"I have," Sapphire assured her. "I'm even wondering if there is some award we can give them. Bright Bay has awards for everything, it seems. I've nearly gone mad memorizing all the subsidiary titles and honors."

Only the rapidity of Sapphire's chatter showed the nervousness she was feeling. At this small betrayal of vulnerability, Elise liked her a great deal. She liked her even better when the crown princess put out her hands to the other three.

"Minnow, Anemone, Firekeeper. Ladies, you all look wonderful and do great honor to your families."

Minnow said, "Lady Archer has had us practice our parts and we did perfectly."

"You have the gifts?" Sapphire asked.

The others nodded.

"Well, they shouldn't keep us waiting much longer."

Sapphire looked as if she wanted to go peek out the door, but restrained herself with an obvious effort at self-control. Ninette took pity on her and slipped out the back, coming in to report a few moments later.

"The kings and queens have just entered the hall and taken their places. The musicians are beginning the groom's processional."

"Then," Sapphire said, battlefield-efficient, "we should take our own places."

Crossing to stand before the doorway into the hall, Minnow and Anemone stood side by side, hands folded around small but intricately carved boxes. Elise and Firekeeper stepped a few paces behind them, accepting from Ninette two boxes of their own. Sapphire took her place behind them.

The crown princess did not carry a box, but instead held a small basket containing several small items, all swathed beneath a puffy fabric tissue.

And in some form or another
, Elise thought,
every bride carries those same trinkets in her wedding. There is a leveling to it
—
a reminder that princess or milkmaid, we are all simply women
.

She heard a few nervous giggles from the twins. Beside her, Firekeeper's breath came fast and shallow.

"Don't be afraid," Elise reassured the wolf-woman, keeping her voice soft.

"I try," Firekeeper said, her tones gruff, "but I can't help it. I
am
afraid and more afraid because I don't know why I am afraid."

Elise gave her a quick hug. "It's natural. Relax into it and remember, we're just decorations. Everyone will be watching Sapphire and Shad."

"Thanks, cousin," said the crown princess dryly, but whatever else she might have said was interrupted by the double doors opening and the swelling of the music into the bride's processional.

Minnow and Anemone stepped forward, perfectly in step, perfectly in cadence. They moved out through the doors.

There may be some advantage to being twins
, Elise thought,
when it comes to coordination
.

Then it was her turn. She walked slowly through the doorway, keeping her gait even and easy. To her relief Firekeeper matched her movements. The wolf-woman had a natural grace that compensated for her fear.

They passed through the double doors and into the Sphere Chamber. The room gave the illusion of being perfectly round though, of course, the floor was flat. The white marble walls curved upward, interrupted on two levels by half-round openings that led into viewing galleries. At the back of one of these, Elise knew, Ninette would be hurrying to her reserved place.

Long, narrow windows pierced the rounded walls at several levels. Today they had been left open to relieve the stuffiness of so many people in an enclosed space.

Peeking up at the galleries through her lashes, Elise thought she glimpsed Derian Carter's red head at the front of one of the first-tier balconies. Was that Sir Jared next to him? It was quite likely. Though neither possessed the rank to be seated lower down, both had won the favor of the bride and groom, as well as that of their auspicious parents. With this came invitations to the ceremony.

The more important wedding guests were seated at floor level in a great circle, their seats placed on shallow risers surrounding the low, raised dais at the center of the room. When the Sphere Chamber was being employed as a throne room, only half of its space was used. Sections of the seating area facing this theoretical "front" had been reserved since the time of King Gustin I for each of the Great Houses. Lesser personages were seated at the back and edges.

Today, since the entire room needed to be used, the carved wooden screen that backed the royal dais had been removed, permitting those seated behind a clear view—although more often then not they would be looking at the backs of the participants. Here were seated the foreign diplomats, the members of the monied—if not titled—houses, and anyone else who could not be refused an invitation to the ceremony without fear of giving offense.

King Allister needed to be even more careful than would be usual for such an event, since he had yet to ascertain who were his staunch allies and who gave support but grudgingly.

The royal dais was plushly carpeted in an ivory white only slightly darker than the marble walls. An honor guard jointly captained by Sir Dirkin Eastbranch of Hawk Haven and Sir Whyte Steel of Bright Bay surrounded the dais.

The armed and armored soldiers faced the assembly. They alternated guard to guard, one in the silver and scarlet of Hawk Haven, the next in the gold and green of Bright Bay. Ironically, though they stood the closest to the participants, they alone would see nothing of the ceremony, for their gazes would remain fixed outward.

Firekeeper beside her, Elise paced down the aisle. Aware—despite her assurance to Firekeeper—that all eyes were upon them, Elise glanced neither right nor left, but kept her gaze level and centered on her destination.

The royal dais was well worth looking at. At the center of the circle the two kings stood shoulder to shoulder, old Tedric at the left, leaning a bit on an ornate staff, Allister standing straight and looking more like a worried father than a king. Their queens stood beside them, Elexa frail but lovely in an ethereal, cobwebby manner, Pearl round and rosy, her head held high to balance the unaccustomed burden of a crown, her eyes bright with what might have been tears.

At Pearl's shoulder stood her son Tavis. The youth seemed to have grown taller and thinner in the few moonspans since Elise had seen him last—but then boys sprouted like that at fifteen. With his shock of dark golden hair, skinny torso, and slightly stooped posture, Tavis rather recalled a spring dandelion. Elise suspected that when the prince grew more comfortable with his new height and learned to stand straight, he would instead bring to mind a young puma. Certainly those stormy blue eyes seemed destined to haunt girls' dreams.

A few steps in front of Elise, the twins reached the dais, curtsied to the monarchs, and then turned aside to stand alongside their brother.

Sadly, no children remained to stand at Queen Elexa's side, though she had borne two sons and a daughter and lost her health in doing so. However, when Elise and Firekeeper rose from paying their respects they took their places beside the queen.

Knowing that all eyes were turned to Sapphire, now halfway down the aisle, Elise sneaked out a hand and squeezed the queen's fingers—Elexa was her great-aunt and had always been kind to her. The queen gave Elise's hand a quick, bird-like squeeze in return.

At the center of the arc made by the two families, Crown Prince Shad waited for his bride. At twenty, he was three years younger than Sapphire. A fair-haired, serious young man, he had been a commissioned officer in Bright Bay's navy before his father won the throne. Although Shad was now crown prince, he had chosen to be wed in an elaborate dress version of his naval uniform—declaring himself for what he had won by his own merits rather than for the high position he would inherit.