Page 10 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Ten

THEY WOULDN’T LET HIM SET foot on hallowed ground.

Only for Alizeh had the Diviners been willing to make a compromise, and only with their intercession was this public ceremony possible.

Presently, he and Alizeh stood suspended in a sphere that hung like a bauble among the clouds.

The elegant, seamless ornament was a masterwork of glass so fine it strained the mind’s inspection.

Prismatic light refracted around them; bands of color bent gently along their bodies.

They were at least five hundred feet in the air above the temple; directly below, a halo of Diviners formed a dark ring on the mossy grounds, their quorum holding the enchantment in place.

The crowd, however, was impossible to fathom.

On and on the sea of onlookers undulated into the distance.

Between the curious citizens of Tulan, the porous border with Ardunia, and the ever-swelling numbers of pilgrims, Cyrus had learned that their audience was well over seven hundred thousand bodies deep—at least half of which were Jinn.

But spectators of every race and creed had lined the streets, blocked every pathway, crowded every inch in the visible distance.

The sight had left him speechless.

Cyrus was not so naive as to be unaware of his own prestige; but neither was he so deluded as to overestimate the scope of his influence.

While the wedding of any king would draw the breathless attention of the public, this crowd was unprecedented.

There had never been so many eyes on any union in recorded history.

Had there been more warning and more time to travel, the numbers would doubtless have been even higher.

Jinn had already traveled unthinkable distances; others had gathered from all over Tulan and the nearest provinces of Ardunia; all had come together to bear witness to this landmark moment.

The vast majority, Cyrus knew, had arrived for a glimpse of Alizeh—for the beguiling mystery of who she was, for the promise of what she might become. It was all for her.

Always for her.

Even those who did not believe in her had wanted to claim a piece of her.

The papers had been screaming about the elusive Jinn queen for weeks.

Discussions of her rumored power and fabled ascendancy had animated even the publications of far-flung empires.

The number of followers she’d already unearthed from around the world were astonishing.

She’d become both a target for malice and a figure of fascination.

Every spectator would leave here today with memory as currency: an anecdote to share as evidence that they’d been present at an event that might alter the realms forever.

How Cyrus wished he might live to see that day.

He swallowed.

As was tradition in royal weddings, a Diviner was at this moment holding forth with the crowd, extolling the virtues of emotional ties and tethers in an ephemeral world.

The bride and groom couldn’t hear this small speech, for sounds were dimmed by the orb that held them.

Instead, they faced each other in relative silence, entombed in beauty.

For Cyrus, of course, every second that passed was a study in torture.

Alizeh stood so close to him he could smell the honeyed fragrance of her hair; he could hear the soft tremble of her breath; he could make out the infinitesimal diamonds dotting her veil.

She was so beautiful he wished fervently to be blinded, or else spared this crucible with a swift dagger to the throat.

He closed his eyes.

He felt fingers of wind graze the curves of their luminous globe, seeking purchase, then retreating. Their protective sphere was no doubt reinforced with tiers of security Cyrus could not number, for even the birds seemed to know to stay away.

His eyes opened.

Late-morning sun glazed them both in a golden, otherworldly light without obstructing their vision.

There was no trace of cold. Not a moment of turbulence.

No discomfort at all, despite the lack of floor beneath their feet.

This was so powerful an enchantment that Cyrus could practically feel the superabundance of magic pressing against his skin, and the realization put a spark of premonition in his chest.

The Diviners had mined fresh crystal for this event.

Cyrus had been stunned when he’d first learned their ceremony was to be elevated into the skies; he’d not known until this morning what Alizeh had arranged for their wedding.

Indeed he’d expected so little from the day that it never occurred to him he might encounter the spectacular.

This event would be marked forever in Tulanian history—if not for the historic moment of Alizeh’s ascension, then for the extraordinary exceptions that had been made in her honor.

Doubtless she had no idea what she’d accomplished.

Cyrus’s years at the temple put him in a unique position to know that this—this elaborate, opulent production—was no ordinary wedding gift to the crown.

In the normal course of things, Diviners were known to bestow the anointed few with small gifts: enchanted weapons or clothing; magicked trinkets and jewels.

They rarely took requests. They did not conduct enchantments for the purpose of entertainment.

They did not attend royal weddings en masse.

And they did not deplete vast stores of magic to project a young woman into the air, pinning her to the heavens like a newborn star—simply because she’d asked.

They knew.

They knew something Cyrus did not. No doubt it was confirmation of something he’d long suspected: that the Diviners were marking her as one of their own.

No—

Something more than that.

“Cyrus,” she said hesitantly. “I was hoping—”

“Yes, they can hear us,” he said, pretending to misunderstand. He continued to look over her shoulder.

“ Oh ,” she said, blinking.

The surging mass rolled into the distance like a churning wave, swarming and cheering beneath their feet. The muted sounds of their jubilation reached them like the roar of the distant ocean.

Cyrus kept his eyes on the crowd.

From this vantage point, the royal city was a glorious sight.

Beyond the temple, hills and valleys had exploded in time for the Wintrose Festival, sloping flower fields screaming with color.

Scores of pink petals had been torn from stems by winds that hurled them into the sky where they fluttered, like moths, toward the sun.

These natural blossoms crossed with his own creations: enchanted flowering vines stretched across roofs and roads, encircled chimneys and trash bins.

It was, in fact, the alignment of three events—the yearly Wintrose Festival, the extravagant trappings of a royal marriage, and his recent, egregious display of grief—that had elevated the land around them to the apex of dizzying beauty.

Cyrus could see the towering spires of his own castle from here; the thunderous staircase waterfalls just beyond; the estuary where the illustrious Mashti River emptied into the sea.

He and Alizeh appeared, by all accounts, to be alone in a diaphanous dream, suspended at the center of this excruciating splendor.

This was, of course, deception.

The entire purpose of this display was the spectacle; they enjoyed no privacy.

Through careful enchantments their voices would be projected; their likenesses rendered.

In this way, the clamoring crowd could bear witness to their union without fear for Alizeh’s life.

Here, the future would be changed by their vows—and, here, enclosed in this small space, drowning in the perfume of her, Cyrus was only capable of so much restraint.

He risked a glance at her face and regretted it at once.

He’d caught the pink of her lips through her veil, parted on a breath. He’d seen the silver glimmer of her eyes, shining up at him. His heart was relentless now, hammering painfully against his ribs.

“I nearly forgot,” she whispered, and he had to remind himself that he’d spoken to her only a moment ago; that she was issuing a response. He could feel her bolstering herself then, painting on a smile.

The Diviners had finished speaking. Alizeh turned to the crowd and waved.

The response was both immediate and uproarious.

After a moment Alizeh laughed at something she saw in the crowd, and Cyrus turned his head without thinking, the curve of her smile carving him like a scimitar. He was saved then by the distraction of a muted roar—

Then another and another.

Cyrus stiffened at the familiar sounds, looking up to find five of his dragons rending the skies above them in a firework of color, the force of their tremendous wings parting the clouds.

The gleaming beasts roared once more in tandem, and their fiery breaths lit the heavens like strikes of lightning.

The crowd was jubilant. Cyrus was appalled.

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

“Me?” Alizeh asked.

“No,” he said, startled. “I didn’t mean— Forgive me—”

Consider it a wedding present, sire , came his dragon’s blithe response. We thought we’d do something nice to mark the occasion.

The king bristled. You thought I’d like to see you prance about like pinwheels? Have you no shame?

“Cyrus?” Alizeh sounded concerned.

Forgive me for being frank, sire , came Zahra’s voice, tinged with annoyance. Her dark green scales shimmered as she soared above them. But considering the fact that you scared us all half to death by disappearing off the face of the earth for several days—

Yeah , added Issa, her younger brother. Scared us half to death—

I’ve already apologized , Cyrus said stiffly, his apprehension rising as he watched Kaveh roar, painting the sky with fire like a circus performer. You know I was in no position to communicate—

—you’ve got a lot of nerve being upset with us now , Zahra continued, when we’re only trying to do something nice for your bride—

Alizeh gave a cry of delight as the dragons soared past. Rose petals tossed up by gusts of wind occasionally whirled about their globe, lending the scene an impossible texture.

My bride? echoed Cyrus. What need does she have of this display?

It’s a gift , said Kaveh. A show of good faith. It will soon be important for the world to know she has the support of dragon-kind. Besides, sire, most people are pleased when we prance about like pinwheels.

You’re offering her your support? said Cyrus, astonished.

The majestic beasts flew in artful circles around them—the performance growing only more elaborate—and the masses were soon stomping and cheering so loudly that the very earth seemed to tremble.

But I thought you hated her. You once insisted I let her die—

Forgive me. He felt Kaveh’s spike of discomfort. I was mistaken, sire. You were right to send her to the Diviners.

What do you mean? he asked.

The balance is changing. This, from Yaasi, the iridescent dragon who’d flown Cyrus and Alizeh home from Ardunia. Everyone can feel it.

“Did you train your dragons to do this?” Alizeh said, turning suddenly to incinerate him with her joy. “Was this meant to be a surprise?”

Cyrus closed his eyes, his heart hammering. Will you not explain yourselves? What can you feel? What balance do you speak of?

Try to enjoy your wedding day, sire , said Kaveh. Take comfort in knowing the Diviners would never have let her marry you if they didn’t think it wise.

Cyrus’s eyes flew open. Wait— What does that mean—

The team of dragons did one final swoop over the crowd, dropping just low enough to delight without inciting fear, and the ecstasy that burst forth from the people was so material—their hope so infectious—that Cyrus couldn’t overcome the impulse to look at his bride.

Alizeh had rushed to the edge of the glass. She was staring at the masses with her hands pressed to her chest, her eyes shining with feeling. “I am with you,” she said breathlessly. “You will never again be alone, for I will never leave you.”