Page 138 of Keeper of the Word

And now ’twas time for a royal wedding.

Elanna was dressed carefully by three ladies-in-waiting. A heavy gown of cloth-of-gold had been chosen for her. The stiff gown was excruciatingly confining. She could scarcely breathe, let alone move. At least she’d been allowed to keep her hair loose at her waist. She did not need a headache in addition to a sore back.

Tara—pale still—entered her room wearing a dress identical to hers. She tugged at her unforgiving sleeves. “I shall ne’er long to be at court again.”

Elanna barely glanced at her. “There will not be a court, Tara.”

The first StarSeer sobered and stood next to Elanna, both gazing out the window at dusk’s light. “Where is the stone?”

Elanna nodded to her hiding place.

“Place it in your pocket.”

“Why?” Elanna asked, focusing on Tara.

“I—I know not.” There was a little color back in Tara’s cheeks. “But I think you should.”

Elanna had just placed the moonstone in her pocket when a knock sounded at the door. Joss entered with a message.

“This came for Lady Tara,” Joss said, bowing and handing her the note.

“The sovereign has requested an audience.” Tara brightened. “In the Crown Hall.”

Elanna nodded. They’d been expecting this. King Rian wouldwant one last audience with them before the wedding, so that the StarSeers could give their blessing before Lord Ulara, his council, and other noted guests.

“What do we do?” Elanna asked. “Can we give our blessing when we know the prince is being forced into this match? When we know that Aven is being held—that she may already be dead?”

Tara had no simple answer. “And if Dashiell does not go through with this marriage, how will the Capella Realm e’er see him crowned sovereign? How will he combat any foes at court? His best chance is to marry so he may gain some authority.”

Elanna sought to roll her shoulders, but her gown constricted her. How she desperately desired to dip into her starlit well and ladle up her visions on the Dasei Moors. All she could draw up were vague visions—the dungeon, green fields turning red, and a chaotic darkness—the sort that was all-consuming forever and ever and ever; she could not draw up many other details.

She needed to See! The frustration felt like the fermentation of rot in her nose. She could not escape, and she could replace it with naught else.

Tara continued. “And mayhap our presence will quell any actions that would be taken against the sovereign. If we are aligned, there can be little chance to go against the sovereign.”

Elanna wanted to believe Tara’s words, but as they entered the familiar Crown Hall, she clasped onto the Edan Stone until she could hold it no longer.

The Crown Hall had been decorated for this occasion. The side walls—even where there was a side door—had been covered entirely by tapestries depicting a number of sovereigns on their wedding days. Those nearest the double doors through which the two entered were brightly colored and fresh-looking, with Rian and Ferika’s wedding most vivid. Toward the other end of the hall, where the sovereign sat on the dais with his queen to his right and the prince to his left, the tapestries were faded and indistinct. Lining the perimeter were the eleven Warins and a few knights of the queensguard. Daved gave a curt nod to Elanna. The eight council members and thechancellor sat directly behind the sovereign. To the right of the hall sat Lord Ulara, Lady Wenonah, and a small entourage. To the left were a dozen well-dressed earls and barons from Lenfore and Grenden.

The steward announced them. “Ladies Tara the First and Elanna the Fourth, StarSeers and stewardesses of all the Capella Realm. We are blessed by their presence and bid them welcome.”

The whole of the hall stood and bowed to them; even King Rian stood and inclined his head with solemnity.

“Come forth,” King Rian said, continuing to stand, as did everyone else in the hall.

As they walked the dais, Elanna itched to brush the beads of sweat that had formed on her collarbone. Her palms, too, were heated. The number of bodies crammed tight warmed the hall.

“Our beloved StarSeers,” King Rian began, his voice rich and formal.

Could Elanna beg King Rian one last time on the prince’s behalf? Here? In the Crown Hall? Glancing at Dashiell, he appeared dazed and defeated.

Or make accusations of an unknown conspirator?

“Since the seal of Asalle, the Capella Realm has been graced by the Light and protection of the stars and of the Five who keep them. ’Tis through the StarSeers and their Sight that the House of Sidra hath ruled this empire for over a millennium…”

Elanna’s cheeks flushed. Her arms started to tingle. A few others in the hall shifted as well.

“…and so, as to continue the sacred tie between the twin kingdoms, Prince Dashiell Edgard Ferik, son of King Rian the Sixth, has chosen for his bride, the fair and noble, Lady Wenonah, daughter of Lord Ulara of Norcliffe of Grenden…”