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Some things never change—even with time. Ceremonies and traditions are passed on from generation to generation despite the change of cultures certain fragments remain. A wise man understands this.
~Abhainn, fasah of Lochlann
2342 AI
Cahar, Muintir
6126 AI
HOW MANY TIMES HAD Hest crossed in front of this particular curtain in the last moments? He’d wear a hole in the rug if the ceremony didn’t begin soon. Pausing in front of the mirror, he sighed and tugged at the stiff white sleeves that dangled to his fingers. Still fidgety, he brushed out an imperceptible wrinkle in his tunic and peered at his irises—they remained as blue as they had been for the past several cycles.
Sydur poked his head into the room. “Do you have the ring?”
Hest fumbled in the tunic pockets but didn’t feel anything. An icy fear seized his muscles. Where was it?
“Is it in your breeches pocket?”
He bunched the tunic up at his hip to get the pocket clear and pushed his fingers down to its remote corner, breathing a sigh of relief as they closed on the ring. A silver band accented with a moonstone gem, as delicate as the princess herself, lay in his palm. He closed his fingers around it and felt its warmth seep into his being.
“How are you holding up?” Sydur rested a hand on Hest’s shoulder. “Only a few more moments before Lugh calls us in.”
“I just want to have it done and over with. The waiting is driving me insane!”
Sydur’s green eyes sparkled. “I couldn’t tell.”
Hest ran a hand over his hair, pushing it back behind his shoulder. “It’s hard to believe I’m here. I remember when I thought the ball of fire in the sky burned all of Atsegena. You’ve been good to me, Sydur.”
Sydur’s jaw tightened, but his eyes were deep as he looked up and away. “Nay, you’ve been good for me. I’m glad I found a scubhear.”
“I’m grateful as well.”
“Come take your places.” Lugh bustled in, his owl, fluttering to stabilize itself on the jiddee’adar’s shoulder. “You have the ring?”
“Aye.” Hest swallowed, his mouth suddenly going dry.
Sydur gave him one more clap on the shoulder as they came through the heavy doors of the throne room, where the hum of excited conversation blended with the stringed instruments. The scent of roses comforted him, reminding him of Siobhan. On the dais, he shifted with nervous energy, using the toe of a boot to scratch an itch on his other calf, but he stopped when he saw Lugh’s scowl.
“Stand still and wait. It won’t be long now.”
Hest took a shaky breath and glanced at the crowd, who’d suddenly stilled and turned to gaze at him. Several smiled, while others seemed more interested in casting judgment on his appearance. He’d learned the court nobility truly cared more about what the king wore than the decisions he made.
Motion at the back of the room drew his attention; King Athair escorted the queen to the front row and then left again, leaving his wife smiling at Hest.
Taking a deep breath, Hest clasped his hands in front of him and pretended he was standing at attention. Being part of the Rittider ranks had been good for him, but at the moment he was especially grateful for the discipline it had instilled. All at once, the music changed to a slower, more liquid melody, and the queen stood, the rest of the room following her example. Hest glimpsed the curtains moving at the back, but the mass of people blocked his view of anyone coming in. He came up on his toes, straining to see over or around them, but the next moment she came into view, and he blinked back tears, his breath abandoning him, following his heart that raced to his bride.
Her dark hair cut a stunning contrast against the white dress. A gauzy fabric covered her face, but he could see her eyes—grey eyes speckled with green fixed on his since the moment she had rounded the corner. The music faded into the background.
Heart of my hearts, Usheen’s voice spoke into his mind, we have been bonded so closely that your thoughts are mine, that my feelings are yours, that our memories are shared. I relish that closeness with you, but on this step, and for all other steps, I cannot claim you wholly for my own. You belong to Siobhan, and Siobhan is yours. But because your heart is of mine, and she is of yours, so she is of mine as well. So this step, Kailah, I take you as part of my hearts, and I give you my marcah. May the bond between you run as deep, and deeper, than it has even between us. May your tears be diminished because they are shared, your laughter be magnified by the mingling of it, and may you never be lonely while you both live. Hold one another close, and love one another well.
I so vow. Hest’s thoughts blended with Siobhan’s.
Then she was there before him, only the steps to the dais separating them. Not until Lugh spoke did Hest remember that anyone else was in the room.
“We are gathered in the sight of Jeeah and all of you to witness the joining of Princess Siobhan with King Hest. Who gives this woman to this man?”
“I, Athair son of Cashel, and Kaylynn, her mother, give her willingly to this man.” He turned, drawing Hest’s eyes to himself by the sheer force of his presence, a gravity Hest had never seen him exhibit before. “Treat her well.”
“Aye.” Hest whispered with a somber nod. “I promise.”
Athair hugged Siobhan and then extended her hand to Hest. His heart trilled when her fingers were wrapped into his, and he guided her up the shallow steps to stand beside him. Lugh began addressing the crowd, but Hest was utterly captivated by Siobhan’s presence. Her smile brightened her face. He squeezed her hands, and she responded in kind.
“Hest?” Lugh cleared his throat.
“Aye?”
The crowd chuckled, and Hest felt his face heat up.
Lugh smiled and continued. “Do you have a symbol of your devotion to your betrothed?”
“Oh, aye.” He turned to see Sydur’s outstretched hand, proffering the ring. His surrogate father had bitten his lip to keep from laughing, and Hest grinned.
“What is the symbol?”
“A ring.” Hest felt the warmth of the band—made from an arc lukesure scale and forged with Usheen’s fire.
“Place the ring on your betrothed’s finger and repeat after me: “As a token of my pledge to you, I offer a ring, forged for you and only you, as I am for you and only you from this day on.”
As Hest echoed the words and slid the ring onto Siobhan’s finger, a soft glow emanated from the contact, tracing the ring from one side of the moonstone to the other and finally settling in the gem itself before slowly fading from sight. Hest couldn’t tell if Siobhan’s wide-eyed expression was awe or fear.
“Siobhan, do you have a token of your devotion to your betrothed?”
Her hands slid from his as she turned to her maid; she had kept the exact nature of her token a secret from him, and Hest had looked forward to finally seeing it.
His breath left him in one whoosh, as if he’d been delivered a blow to his gut. Sitting in her palm was her father’s ring! Hest’s gaze snapped to Athair, who nodded with a tight but weighty smile; the light shone on a single tear upon his cheek. Hest looked down again at the symbol of rulership, handed down from father to son since Shawnahur, the dragon king. Had it only been eight lunar cycles since the ring had come to life and pronounced Hest king? And now it was to be his own?
Siobhan had an almost shy, yet shining, expression on her face as she spoke her vow. “As a token of my pledge to you, I offer a ring, destined for you, as I am yours and only yours from this step on.”
“But...” His protest was a whisper cut off when the ring awakened and Keenah’s metallic likeness uncurled itself from the band, standing up to look at Hest.
Hush. The arc lukesure’s voice spoke into his mind. You are the dragon king for your time, bound through your arc lukesure to me, and your betrothed bound by blood to my marcah. Accept the king’s gift and my blessing on your marriage. Princess, the dragon turned toward Siobhan, I know you have doubts. They are not altogether unfounded; however, regardless of all that you may not yet understand I promise you that the arc lukesure are not your enemies.
With the powerful, serpentine grace only a dragon could exhibit, the little avatar settled back onto the ring, and the silver lost its liquid quality as the voice in Hest’s mind fell silent, but the form Keenah took had changed. Before, the dragon’s body had lain curled about itself; now, the wings were unfurled, the chest thrust forward, the proud head pulled back as if a moment from flight. Hest’s breath left him. What could that mean?
Lugh swallowed and licked his lips. “Every bonding of hearts has witnesses; a king and queen no less, but a dragon king has even more. There are your friends and family who gather before you, your subjects who watch, and for a dragon king, the arc lukesure give their blessing as well.”
The curtains at the back of the room fluttered, and although Hest couldn’t see the Rittider, he knew they were pulling the drapes aside. Usheen’s silver head and neck dipped as he entered the room. With slow, careful steps, he made his way to a clear space left open for him. His entrance drew exclamations from everyone assembled—even those who’d seen him before remembered him being significantly smaller, and no matter how many times he appeared, the glimmering silver scales and massive wings would always inspire awe.
I bestow my blessing on the couple and their offspring. May you be as Shawnahur and Keenah, one in spirit and in mind. May your descendants praise your names.
“Thank you, arc lukesure.” Lugh nodded, and Usheen inclined his head.
The scraping of scales on wood could be heard as Usheen wrapped his tail around his body.
“The symbols given are but a reflection of the vows—pledges made by husband and wife from the beginning of time. King Hest and Queen Siobhan have kept to tradition by writing their own vows, giving their oaths in their own words.
“As man was created first, so he gives his pledge first. Hest, Lars’ son, do you take Siobhan, daughter of Athair, to love, protect, cherish, and keep until death do you part?”
“Aye.”
“Then speak your vows.”
Hest took a deep breath. This had been the hardest part of preparing for the ceremony. Although he’d told Siobhan he loved her, their circumstances were such that it was difficult to express more than that, and he wasn’t sure she believed him. He’d written his heart into these vows. If only she would be able to hear it.
“Siobhan, in Skymna Tsiki and Handi follow each other through the sky. Without them, we’d be left in a dim existence.” He licked his lips and forged ahead. “As Skymna is only half of what it can be without the moons, so I am without you.”
Several in the audience gave a tender exclamation, but Hest hardly registered them. He was desperate for her to see, to know with certainty that she could rely on what he was promising.
“And as the winds come and go across the land, I know we’ll have arguments—already have.” He chuckled and shrugged. “We are both fiery spirits; I know that I’m brash and you’ll match me every time. But afterward, we’ll make amends, and I’ll be here for you. I promise.”
Siobhan squeezed his hands and smiled, never having taken her eyes off him. “Hest, the first step we met and sat under the blossoms of the cherry cran, I showed you my family crest. Do you remember?”
“How could I forget? You introduced me to cran.” He smiled at the memory. “And gave me a token to prove that I’d met a princess.”
“Aye, and I explained how just as the crest has a line intersecting the land and holding it up, that’s what my family was to do—uphold the people of Muintir.”
Hest nodded.
“Little did I realize that my husband was in the garden with me on that step. As Muintir depends upon my family, so we have come to rely on each other, and I count it a great privilege to hold that place in your life. I promise to lean on you first, to be your partner in all things, to be the one you can always turn to. I promise to love you with all that I am, to stand beside you in times both good and ill, and that when storms come against us, we will always hold.”
Hest’s breath seized in his chest, nearly choking him. He couldn’t believe her words, the care that was evident in them. Their marriage was as political as they came; he had never been sure how much tenderness she truly felt for him, but her vow poured over him and infused his soul with light. How had he been so blessed?
Lugh cleared his throat, drawing Hest’s gaze from his soon-to-be-bride. The jiddee’adar smiled, yet there were tears in his eyes. “Then with Jeeah as our witness, I pronounce you husband and wife; king and queen. You may kiss your bride.”
Hest wasn’t sure who moved first, but he wrapped his arms around Siobhan and drew her to him as he’d longed to do ever since he’d fought Liam in the dungeon.
She rested against him, looking up at him. “I love you.”
Her words, although not part of the plans, were exactly what he needed. He bent down and their lips met. All else faded away except the racing of his heart and the way Siobhan melted even closer to him. Their marriage may not have been his choice originally, but he couldn’t imagine a woman more fitted for him, more wonderful, than her.
As he finally pulled away, he whispered in her ear, “I meant what I said. I love you, Siobhan, and I’ll be here.”
“People of Muintir.” Lugh raised his hands, interrupting their moment. “I present to you: King Hest and Queen Siobhan.”
The crowd raised a cheer, their celebration echoing off the paneled ceiling and resounding through the room.
Hest offered his arm to his bride. He couldn’t help the cocky grin that spread across his face at the thought. Siobhan smiled up at him, and together they turned and faced the audience. As one, they made their way up the aisle, then to the ballroom where they took up a place just inside the door to receive their guest.
With only Goshkeah, the Rittider stationed around the room, and servants bringing in food, Hest realized it was as quiet as it ever was in the palace. He slid his arm around Siobhan and drew her close to him.
“Was it all you hoped it would be?” he asked as he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
She rested against him. “Mm-hm.”
He smiled. “Care to repeat that kiss?”
Siobhan didn’t say a word, only shifted her face to him, those grey eyes hidden beneath her lashes as she ran her hand along his shoulder to the back of his neck, sending tingles all along the way. Their lips met again, and Hest realized he could become as lost in her embrace as he did in the bond with Usheen.
“Oh!” A woman exclaimed, and Hest pulled away, his face heating.
“Moregot, Ban’frensee,” Devin cleared his throat, but his eyes sparkled as he grasped the woman's hand. "'Tis an honor to be here for your wedding step."
"Thank you, councilor." Hest ran a hand along his neck where Siobhan's had been moments before.
The stately lady smiled, having regained her composure. "It reminds me of our wedding step. We were so nervous."
Devin nodded. "I wasn't sure what I was getting into, but I'd marry you again at a moment's notice. Well, we'll allow others to give their congratulations."
As the councilor and his wife left, Hest slid his hand into Siobhan's until the next duene appeared, but with the passage of each guest, he found he longed for the warmth her hand had brought. At first it was easy to distract himself, but as the endless line continued, he began shifting from foot to foot, his irritation building.
“Easy, Moor’neen.” Siobhan squeezed his hand. “We’re almost done. Then ‘twill be the meal and our dance. Think you can hold out for that?”
Put that way, it didn’t sound too bad. He smiled at her and nodded.
She turned back to the next noble, and Hest admired how effortlessly she conversed. He wished he could be like that, but it felt like the things the nobles found important were so trivial that even the attempt to take them seriously drove him crazy.
When the last duene had shaken their hands and entered the ballroom, the herald announced, “Presenting King Hest and Queen Siobhan!”
Together they took their places at the head table. As they sat, servants presented them with plates and filled their goblets.
Hest sipped the cider and smiled. “Your favorite.”
“Of course.” Siobhan returned his smile. “Now, relax.”
He tried, and with her at his side it was easier, but the constant gossip wore at him.
Easy, heart of my hearts. You are the king now. These are required functions.
I know, Usheen. It’s just difficult when I have so many eyes on me. It’s like being watched while you care for someone else’s horse.
Not the first time you’ve compared your bride to a horse. You might want to find another way to think of her!
Hest choked back a laugh no one else would have understood and glanced fondly at Siobhan. He’d once told Usheen how badly their first meeting had gone, and how infuriated she had been. It seemed so far away now, though he felt that his odds of angering her with something he thought was innocuous had not changed much.
Well, know that I am here for you.
Thank you.
Of course.
“Hest?” Siobhan frowned at him. “Is everything all right?”
He shrugged. “Just eager for it to be just you and me.”
Her cheeks reddened and she fiddled with her goblet. “I see.”
“I didn’t mean...” He paused. He did look forward to that as well, but that wasn’t what he had meant.
She raised an eyebrow and her eyes clouded.
“No.” He rested his hand on hers. “Siobhan, I’m probably as nervous as you, but my main concern is....” He gazed out at the wedding guests. How could he voice this?
“Is it the arc lukesure?”
“No. Yes.”
“Well, which is it?” Siobhan smiled quizzically at him.
“You have nothing to fear from Usheen, but he was talking to me. That’s why I was distracted.” He ran his thumb along her hand, marveling at its softness. “I’ll stay focused. I promise.”
She nodded, but there was something in the way that she did it that said she didn’t believe him. He clenched his jaw.
We have to convince her, Usheen.
And we will, heart of my hearts.
Lugh approached the table. “Moregot, Ban’frensee, congratulations. I may not have said so before, but you will be wonderful for Muintir.”
Siobhan rose and embraced the jiddee’adar. “Thank you, Lugh. For everything you’ve done for us.”
“’Tis my pleasure, Siobhan.”
“I’ll want a dance with you this step as well.”
“Oh, ban’frensee, I—”
“What? I’m Siobhan when I’m grateful, but as soon as I want something, I’m ban’frensee?”
Lugh dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Forgive me. You are my queen as well, now. ‘Twill take some adjustment.”
“That it will. But you will dance with me. Please?”
Hest smiled. There was no denying Siobhan when she was like that.
Lugh nodded. “As you wish, Ban’frensee.”
“Nay. Siobhan,” she corrected him.
“As you wish, Siobhan,” Lugh said, a hint of a smile breaking through his beard. He turned to Hest. “You’d best watch yourself, Moregot, or she’ll have you just as wrapped around her finger as I am.”
“I believe she already does, Lugh,” Hest admitted, standing and joining Siobhan. “Before long, she’ll be the true ruler of Muintir. I’ll just step back and let her do what she’s been trained to do.”
“Nay, boiwith, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Follow what you’ve been taught, and you’ll do just fine.”
“I’m glad someone else believes in him,” Siobhan said, taking Hest’s arm. “I believe ’tis time for our dance.”
Lugh bowed. “Then I’ll let you enjoy it.”
Hest gave a respectful nod in response and led his wife across to the dance floor. The word sent a thrill through him—wife.
Siobhan pulled him back to reality by placing one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. Dance. Right. He slipped his arm around her waist, and to his surprise, she drew closer, looking up at him with her expressive grey eyes.
Hypnotized, he drew her through the opening steps, marveling at how easily they came to him now. During their first dance he’d been petrified that he would step on her toes, every inch the awkward and uncultured stable hand that he’d been when he came to Muintir. And then in the middle of the event Liam had stolen her away and—
He cut off the thought as twin furies swelled in his chest—his and Usheen’s. At least in recent moonsteps he’d become better at recognizing the onset of the laubrach and controlling it, but from the glance at Siobhan he knew that his eyes were being eclipsed by silver. She pursed her lips and looked away, dosing Hest’s blood with anxiety.
“I was remembering our first dance,” he hastened to explain, “and... how the Queen’s Feast ended.”
She nodded but didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to speak of it. Not this step.”
“Because of Liam?”
“No,” she muttered with some heat. “And not the dance. This...” She finally glanced up, and he felt the shudder she tried to suppress.
“The laubrach?”
“And my father’s ring, and the dragons that can steal our very thoughts, believe they are part of this bond that we share. I was not looking to marry a dragon, Hest.” She huffed a sigh. “Never mind, let’s just focus on us. For this step, I just want to be with you.”
“But,” Hest frowned, “I am a marcah. It’s who I am.”
“Not now, moor’neen.”
The music crescendoed, and he spun her away from him, longing to keep her in his arms. What had she meant?
When they were close again, he forged ahead. He had to know. “Siobhan, you trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then... what is it?”
“Do you really want to discuss this now, moor’neen?”
Hest nodded.
Siobhan pursed her lips, but nodded. “Very well. Is the arc lukesure safe?”
She hid her face in his shoulder. As Hest looked down at her, he suddenly realized that she was seeking reassurance. From him. A tenderness flooded him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Aye, Siobhan. If I wasn’t willing to stake my own life on that, I’d never, ever risk yours. I promise you that.”
She hugged him more tightly, giving a small nod.
“Why are you so afraid of him?”
He felt the motion of her lips against his shoulder, but she didn’t look up. “I’ve heard of Keenah since my childhood, secretly hoping he’d reappear and choose me to be queen, yet when an arc lukesure did come along, it wasn’t like anything I’d imagined, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m scared out of my wits.”
“Why? What’s to be afraid of?”
She lifted her head and glared at him. “What’s to be afraid of? The dragon disposed of a man in a single crunch!”
“That was the same man who captured you.”
Siobhan nodded, her face pale. “I said I didn’t want to discuss this now, and this is why.”
“But, if we don’t, Moor’neen...” Hest let a breath out. Would using the term of endearment help or hurt? “If we don’t there’ll be a wedge between us.”
“Fine.” Siobhan stiffened and looked up at him. “You want to know what I’m really afraid of? ‘Tis you.”
Hest gaped at her. “Me?”
She nodded. “You turned half-dragon in the blink of an eye and clawed a man’s neck to ribbons. Doesn’t that frighten you?”
If he was honest, it did, but he wasn’t sure she needed that much honesty at the moment. “Lugh says as long as I remember who I am, I’ll be fine.”
“And you’re doing that?” Siobhan shook her head. “If I was bonded, I’d know what ‘twas like, but all I know is what rumors I’ve heard, and the little you’ve told me. You’ve seen how big he’s grown! He could pounce on me and I’d be crushed, let alone those talons.”
“Hush.” Hest pulled her closer to him. “Aye, but when you know him as I do, you’ll see he has a heart that is tender and loyal. All of those things are meant for our enemies, not us.”
“That may be, but I’m still scared. What if you lose control and hurt me?” Her voice, far too small for his fiery bride, was all but swallowed in the swelling music.
“Oh, Siobhan. I won’t... I would never... hurt you.” Hest floundered for something that would help her understand. “You heard Usheen’s promise; you’re part of the laubrach now. That means you’re bonded to an arc lukesure as you always dreamed.”
“Aye, but ‘tisn’t what I thought ‘twas going to be like.” She sighed. “Why does life have to be so complicated?”
Hest chuckled. “I certainly understand that question. Look at me: a synod ago, I thought I’d be fortunate to marry the barmaid and keep my position at Malene’s stable. Now, I’m a king. If that’s not complicated, I don’t know what is.”
“But if there’s ever anything difficult, you have Lugh and Padraig, not to mention the rest of the council. Between them all, they’ll know what to do.”
“So does Usheen.”
“And how can you be sure? What does he know of anything? By the rate he’s growing, he’s still very young. Lugh and Padraig have been advising my father since before we were born! There’s something not right about hearing his voice in my head, knowing he can hear the thoughts I would have chosen to keep my own. There’s nothing right about my husband growing talons that could mutilate me.”
Hest stopped in his tracks, gaping like a landed fish and not caring in the least how stupid he looked doing it. Devastated, he searched her face, pleading with her to see how he cherished her, trying to think of something more to say that could alleviate her fear. But while he was casting about for words, a tear tracked its way down her cheek, and her lip trembled. With a nod, she turned away, motioning to the musicians to continue playing. Other couples formed up for the Crofter’s Round, but his bride walked past them and left the room.
Hest was left standing in the middle of the dance floor, alone. He had never suspected it would be easy, but this—he needed her near him. This moonstep of all steps, they should be together.
Already mourning, he went to follow her.
