Page 64

T he cathedral was always beautiful. Splendid.

Ethereal. Usually, Arden took a few minutes to try to decide if she preferred seeing morning or evening light spilling through its enormous stained-glass windows and shattering its colors over the congregation.

Today, the fractured rainbow registered only as one note in a symphony of beauty she could scarcely grasp.

She hoped someone was recording this, because even as she gasped at the garden of flowers filling the spaces, the standing-room-only crowd, the white and blue ribbons and bows flocking the pews, it felt more like dream than fact. A dream that would fade as soon as she tried to remember it tomorrow.

She’d expected Seidon to bid her a few-minutes’ farewell once they reached the cathedral.

In weddings on the islands, the groom always waited at the front, and the bride’s parents escorted her up.

But he’d made no move to leave her side, and when Mama had lifted her brows and asked what they should do—clearly as bemused as Arden—Papa had grinned.

“The king always escorts his bride up the aisle, demonstrating to all the people that she is his chosen one—chosen freely, chosen for them. We will follow them.”

Something had relaxed in Arden that she hadn’t realized had been tense. She hadn’t wanted to let go of his hands, not even for a moment. Not when she knew that the second they stopped touching, he’d be flooded with pain.

All through the ceremony, they’d either kept their hands linked or resting on each other’s waist. Her throat had nearly closed off as he slid a ring on her finger that she knew she’d have to study later.

As they exchanged the words that would bind them together in holy covenant for the rest of their lives.

Centuries, Seidon had pointed out. He expected her to have centuries ahead of her.

A thought that still felt as impossible as the wind bowing to her whim.

A thought she would explore in more leisure if they survived this coming clash with the mer.

For now, it seemed no more certain than when the next hurricane would hit. Only the Triada knew.

She didn’t need to know, not today. Today, she only needed to know that Seidon loved her.

Seidon would be her husband—was already her husband?

Which moment made her his wife? Was it when they each said the words?

Put on the rings? Or would it not be official until Father Enoch declared it so after the missa and dismissed them into the world?

As if reading her thoughts, Seidon grinned down at her and, at Enoch’s instruction, knelt beside her.

She knew her attention ought to be on the miracle the priest was performing, but all she could really think was that she was going to be beside Seidon today as he received the consecrated sign of their salvation.

Their hands would be linked. She would get to feel the Mercy as he did—or as much as anyone else could.

Anticipation thrummed in her veins. Today alone of all Firstdays, he—they—would receive the sacrament first, because it was their wedding.

Enoch would hand a wafer to her, one to Seidon, and they would put them on their tongues at the same time.

Then, as the Mercy roared, the rest of the congregation would come up to share in the blessing, in the miracle.

Her usual seat in the first pew put her closer than most any other to this place where Seidon always stood, but even so, she felt the difference as she glanced up.

Here, where they knelt together, they were directly beneath the apex of the arch.

It would sound different, look different, feel different. Anticipation sang in her veins.

Then the moment arrived. Enoch stepped forward, the golden dish in his hands, and held up the bread before her. “The body of the Once and Coming One,” he said.

“Amen.” She held out her free hand, let him set it on her palm.

The echo of the exchange right beside her underscored the tingling in her veins. She wanted to pray, but she had no words, just a stretching out and up toward heaven, toward the Triada who poured out his mercy and love and grace.

Seidon smiled and raised the wafer. She mirrored him. At the same moment, they put them on their tongues.

Waters roared, surged, sang. And oh, how different the sound was from here!

She’d been shocked before at the music of it, but this time…

was there some magic about this spot that she’d missed?

Because the song was different. Deeper. Richer.

More complex. Not a melody, but a harmony, as if a thousand flutes played their tunes all through the cathedral.

So beautiful was the music that she had to close her eyes to better hear it, to better feel the wind that rushed down the walls, up the aisles, and spilled over them in a kiss that felt straight from heaven.

Seidon’s fingers tightened on hers, drawing her attention to his gasp of surprise—a gasp echoing throughout the chamber.

She opened her eyes again—and it hit her.

There shouldn’t be wind in the cathedral.

Doors and windows were all shut tight. And this song, it was different than it had been every other week, that was no trick of where she knelt.

Her gaze swept over to Seidon, who studied her with such love that she couldn’t find the breath to whisper the question she’d meant to.

His lips turned up.

Before them, Enoch lowered to a knee, his face inclined upward. “Praise you, Holy Triada. You have poured out a new Mercy upon us. Of wind as well as water. A new song of your glory. A new day in your story.”

A shiver sped up her spine and danced down her arms.

Seidon lifted her hands and kissed both in turn. “My queen. Chosen by heaven.”

The shiver chased its way back down. Enoch stood again and motioned for them to move to the side so he could share the thanksgiving with the rest of the people, but she couldn’t stop the way her limbs trembled as she took her place at Seidon’s side, fingers still woven through his.

Chosen by heaven . Her mind refused to wrap around those words, as it had refused to accept the ones he’d spoken yesterday, when he’d claimed she was a queen in her own right. It wouldn’t mesh with what she knew of herself. Made no sense.

And yet the song sang through the cathedral as each and every person came up, the waters still roaring, the wind still frolicking. It teased her dress, the tendrils of hair Mama had left to fall softly around her face, and wiped at the tears that spilled out of her eyes.

It made no attempt to dry other cheeks, and many were wet as they came forward, accepted the bread and wine from Enoch, and then moved toward Arden and Seidon.

A normal part of the wedding missa, she knew. Traditional, even for a wedding between commoners. She’d done her fair share of moving from priest to bridal couple with the wafer still on her tongue, praying for their future and making the sign of blessing over them.

Their guests, however, did more than make the sign.

Her parents came first, both Mama and Papa leaning down to embrace her and then Seidon.

And then Storm and his mother, and Alexei and his family…

all of whom reached for their hands. Little Latitia even lunged for an enthusiastic hug and a giggling “I told you so.”

Perhaps that was why everyone else followed their example.

Why, rather than only sketching that sign in the air before them, each person reached for their hands too, and took the opportunity to whisper their blessings and well-wishes and other words Arden never would have dreamed would be spoken to her.

“Praise be to the Triada for blessing us with such a queen.”

“May you live a thousand years, Your Majesty.”

“We have prayed so long for a queen like you.”

“The Triada heard our cries.”

Her cheeks had no hope of staying dry, even with the breeze caressing the tears away. How could they, when the mirror of her tears adorned the cheeks of the people?

She’d done nothing to deserve their acceptance, their love, their devotion. She’d done nothing but somehow win the heart of their king.

But then, that was what they’d been praying for. Not for a new kind of magic—how could they even know to ask for such a thing? But for a wife who could be their beloved king’s equal.

She still didn’t know quite how she could be that. But they didn’t have the same reservations.

What would happen when she disappointed them? Failed to control this power? What if she couldn’t give Seidon the child the kingdom needed?

The worries snuck in, slithering around the joy like a crafty serpent, only to be banished again by a stroke of Seidon’s thumb over her knuckles. Trust , that touch bade. Trust the Triada to have made you as you need to be .

She drew in a breath and renewed her smile.

It took a long while for the line to end, but at last everyone had returned to their seats, and the waters and wind of the Mercy calmed.

The rest of the service moved by in a blur.

Enoch resumed his place and called them to stand.

The last pronouncements were made, and they were declared husband and wife.

King and Queen of Daryatla, the kingdom now of sky and sea.

The roar of the people was as deafening as the surf as Seidon leaned down to give her a soft kiss. And yet, the moment his lips touched hers, that noise receded. Her pulse kicked up. And this wonder replaced all the others.

She was his now. Never mind that it came with a crown and expectations she had no idea how she would meet. She had him. This man she certainly didn’t deserve but who she had no intentions of ever giving up.