Page 7 of The Curse Between Us

The marriage ceremony took place at noon, when the sun stood at its peak, casting a golden light that seemed to promise a bright future.

Zephyr entered the temple unescorted, choosing to walk alone. He left Eileen and Victor to join the crowd of assembled spectators, who were murmuring excitedly as they watched the ceremony unfold. The silence in the temple seemed to deepen as Zephyr stepped forward, and in the quiet, his heart beat faster, his steps heavier. The cool stone of the floor beneath his boots felt both grounding and foreign as he moved toward the altar.

At the altar, Edric stood waiting for him. The sunlight poured in from the high windows, catching the burnished strands of Edric’s hair and making it glow like a halo. He was dressed in a rich scarlet shirt, the fabric tight across his chest and shoulders, highlighting the strength in his build. The shirt tucked neatly into loose buff trousers, which disappeared into brown leather boots. His gloves, stitched with gold, matched the rest of his attire in their rich elegance.

Zephyr felt a jolt in his chest, a rush of admiration for the man before him. He looked beautiful, radiant even. The word was simple, but it captured the truth of the moment. And as their eyes met, something shifted in Edric’s gaze. The tightness that had gripped him seemed to ease, as though he had been bracing himself for something, expecting Zephyr not to show, not to come through. But now, seeing him there, Edric’s hand extended toward Zephyr, the gesture gentle, almost tentative.

Zephyr, without hesitation, moved forward, taking Edric’s hand in his. The moment their gloved palms touched, Edric squeezed his hand softly, grounding him, as though reminding him that they were in this together. For a moment, Zephyr felt the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, but Edric’s touch, firm and steady, eased that burden.

Hadley, once again draped in her ceremonial gold robes, stepped forward with a clear, commanding presence. She raised her arms above her head and began to speak, her voice rich and full. “We gather here today to mark a momentous occasion,” she said. “For not only is this a union of two persons, but of two kingdoms.”

Edric’s grip on Zephyr’s hand tightened, just for an instant, then relaxed again. Zephyr glanced at him, a silent question in his eyes. Edric met his gaze briefly and shook his head, as though dismissing the brief moment of anxiety. A flash of nervousness, most likely. Zephyr understood. If anything were to go wrong, if anything were to threaten their plans, it was bound to happen now, in the moments before the vows were spoken.

Hadley continued, her voice rising, rich with the weight of tradition. “It is in the union of opposites, or seeming opposites, that we find our greatest strength,” she said, casting a glance toward Zephyr, her eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “Once, long ago, before these mountains divided us, there was only Being. And then Being began to change, to struggle against itself, and so Plenty and Abyss were separated, equal and yet in opposition to one another.”

Zephyr frowned, a strange unease settling in his chest. This was not what Skye had described when explaining Rafrian marriage ceremonies. There had been nothing about the story of Plenty and Abyss, and the symbolism felt... off. He glanced at Edric, who wore the same expression of confusion, even a hint of apprehension in his gaze. They were both in the dark about what was coming next.

“They fought for what we would consider centuries, though for them it was the blink of an eye. Finally, Plenty cast down Abyss, deep below the ground. The earth that was disrupted rose up to form the mountains that have separated Rafria and Eskarven ever since.” Hadley paused here, her eyes gleaming as she looked between them, her lips curving into a smile that was almost triumphant. “Until today.”

Zephyr’s confusion only deepened, but before he could question the significance of the tale, Hadley reached back to the altar, retrieving a circlet made of red and yellow roses. She held it out to Zephyr, her gaze never leaving his. “Place these upon the brow of your betrothed, and with them, vow to tend to your love as one tends to a garden: with patience, with devotion, and always with the hope of renewal in times of difficulty.”

The words were familiar, reminding him of the snowdrops used in Eskarven ceremonies, a symbol of renewal and endurance. Zephyr took the circlet, feeling its delicate weight, and placed it gently on Edric’s bowed head. He spoke the vow with full sincerity, his voice carrying through the temple, even reaching those at the back of the crowd. “I do so vow.”

Edric’s head lifted, the roses adding to the striking image of him, and with a playful wink, he caught Zephyr’s gaze. A flush crept up Zephyr’s neck at the unexpected gesture, and he felt suddenly self-conscious, his heart thudding in his chest. He was grateful that his part of the ceremony had ended; he wasn’t sure he could have held himself steady if Edric had continued to smile at him like that.

Hadley, with an air of satisfaction, now held out a similar circlet of white and pink roses. She repeated the same speech, the ritual unfolding like a dance they had both been taught. Zephyr lowered his head, and he felt the soft petals brush against his forehead as Edric placed the circlet on him. “I do so vow,” Edric said, his voice steady, unwavering.

It was done. The words had been spoken, the vows exchanged. They were married.

Zephyr raised his head, the weight of the ceremony lifting from his shoulders. A smile broke out across his face, pure and wide, and Edric mirrored it, a relief washing over his features. There was a joy in that smile, a shared understanding that despite the weight of duty and the uncertainties ahead, they had just taken their first steps toward something new.

“May your union be long and happy,” Hadley pronounced, her voice warm, though there was a hint of something sly in her tone as she leaned in closer. “Now, give the people a nice wave.”

Zephyr looked down at the gloves on his hands, remembering the careful caution with which they had approached physical touch. The ceremony had proven it was safe, and yet, the weight of the moment lingered. Slowly, he nudged his hand against Edric’s, testing the connection between them. After a brief, startled glance from Edric, he took Zephyr’s hand firmly, and together, they raised their joined hands to the crowd.

The eruption of cheers and applause from the audience was deafening, and for a moment, Zephyr felt as though the weight of all their gazes was pressing down on him. Alec’s tall figure stood out in the crowd, a broad smile on his face. Beside him, Herbert’s sharp eyes were scanning the room, cataloguing every reaction, every shift in the crowd, as though this was just another thing to analyze. Zephyr had to smile at that. Of all the faces in the crowd, those two were the most familiar.

His heart ached, though, as he thought of the people who weren’t there. Pierce, who would have surely winked at him with that characteristic mischievous grin. Wilfred, whose loud clap and boisterous cheer would have echoed through the room. It would have been comforting to have them here, to feel their support in the way only old friends could offer. But if they all played their parts, Zephyr knew he would see them again soon.

“Now what?” Zephyr asked quietly, his voice just above a whisper, turning his head slightly so that Edric could hear him.

Edric squeezed his hand lightly, a smile of pure happiness spreading across his face. It was the kind of smile that made Zephyr’s heart skip a beat, a smile that made everything feel worth it, no matter the weight they still carried. “Now,” Edric said, his voice filled with quiet joy, “we celebrate.”

◆◆◆

The wedding feast stretched on for hours, a whirl of celebration that seemed to ebb and flow with each speech, dance, and musical performance. The grand hall was filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the rhythmic beats of drums that reverberated through the air. Zephyr sat beside Edric, both of them nodding politely as well-wishers took turns stepping up to offer their congratulations, some more heartfelt than others. There were moments of genuine warmth, but there were also long stretches of exhaustion, each one passing more slowly than the last.

As the applause following a particularly impressive shadowplay of the final battle between Plenty and Abyss echoed through the room, Zephyr felt his energy beginning to wane. He’d heard about the grandiosity of Rafrian wedding celebrations, but nothing had quite prepared him for the overwhelming spectacle. The dancers, the musicians, the stories being told—it was all grand, yes, but utterly exhausting. The walls of the hall seemed to close in around him, and he felt the weight of the occasion pressing down on his shoulders.

Sensing his discomfort, Edric turned to him, a bright smile on his face that quickly faded as he took in the weariness on Zephyr’s. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice tentative, his concern genuine.

Zephyr met his gaze and smiled faintly. “I am,” he assured, though the words felt empty as he spoke them. He gestured vaguely, unsure how to articulate the feeling. “It’s just... a lot.”

Edric nodded in understanding, the smile on his face shifting to one of empathy. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” he said softly. “There’s so much happening all at once. It’s not easy to keep up with.”

Zephyr felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful for Edric’s understanding. He gave a small nod, feeling the weight of his exhaustion finally acknowledged.

After a moment, Edric’s expression turned mischievous. “Well, I think our guests would find it charming if we made a quick escape,” he said, his voice low, with a playful edge. “I’m sure they’d think it sweet if we retired for the night a little earlier than planned, don’t you think?”

A flush spread across Zephyr’s cheeks at the suggestion, even as he knew that it was what most newlywed couples would do—spending their first night together alone. But they were not like most couples, and the thought of some quiet, uninterrupted time with Edric sounded far more appealing than sitting through another hour of speeches.

“I would appreciate some peace,” Zephyr agreed, his voice soft. He reached up to adjust Edric’s circlet, which had tilted askew, giving him a roguish look. “And these—” He gently straightened the crown of roses. “We should get them off before you lose yours entirely.”

Edric’s grin returned, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Taking care of me already?” he teased. “What an excellent husband I’ve landed.”

Zephyr felt a twinge of warmth in his chest at the words, though he tried to play it off. “You’re lucky to have me,” he said, though there was no hiding the soft pride in his tone. It was a small, private moment between them, and in it, he found something comforting. It was a reminder that despite all the complexity of their marriage, despite the politics and the arrangements, there was a bond forming between them—one of shared understanding, and perhaps even affection.

Edric rose to his feet, holding his hand up to quiet the guests. He made his announcement with ease, his voice carrying through the hall, full of confidence. “My friends, thank you for celebrating this new bond between our lands. We are excited for the future, for the discussions ahead and the changes to come.” He paused, casting a glance at Zephyr, the fondness in his expression undeniable. “But for now,” Edric continued with a smile that lit up his face, “it is time for my husband and I to retire for the night.”

A playful cheer rose from the crowd, their applause warm and encouraging. Edric turned to Zephyr and held out his gloved hand, a familiar gesture that felt strangely grounding. Zephyr met his gaze and shook his head in mock censure but took the offered hand, allowing himself to be led away from the thrumming energy of the hall and toward the quieter corridors.

As they moved through the castle’s wings, Edric spoke again, his tone more subdued. “They offered me the monarch’s chambers,” he said, his voice quiet, almost wistful, “but I didn’t want them.” His words trailed off, and for the briefest moment, the smile faded from his lips. “Too many memories.”

Zephyr placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a comforting touch. “I understand,” he said softly, knowing that Edric was referring not just to the chambers, but to the weight of his past.

They arrived at a door guarded by two unfamiliar soldiers. The guards nodded in respect as Edric approached, and they were ushered inside without question. The room beyond was vast and airy, the high ceilings adorned with intricate tilework, and the gentle breeze from the open windows stirred the sheer curtains. The space felt serene, a far cry from the bustling hall they had just left.

Edric’s voice broke through Zephyr’s reverie. “I hope this is to your liking,” he said, his posture stiff as he clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze avoiding Zephyr’s. “If there’s anything you want changed, just say the word.”

Zephyr shook his head, but his attention was caught by something on the desk. It was a small dagger, its hilt adorned with intricate jewels that gleamed in the dim light. His heart stuttered in his chest as he recognized it, and the memories of the last time he had seen that dagger—pressed to his brother’s throat—came rushing back in a wave of discomfort.

Edric hurried across the room, his eyes darting from the dagger to Zephyr, a look of confusion crossing his face. “What is it?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“That dagger...” Zephyr’s voice was strained, his words failing him for a moment. “It—” He swallowed hard, fighting to regain his composure. Could this really be a cruel joke? A way to remind him of his brother’s death, of the price of their so-called peace?

Edric’s hand hovered over the dagger before he picked it up gently, a wistful look on his face. “It was my mother’s,” he said softly, his voice laced with something akin to reverence. “My father carried it after she died, and when he passed, he left it to me.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “It was a reminder... a symbol of his grief and the vengeance that fueled him.”

Zephyr’s chest tightened, the air around him thick with the unspoken truths. He remembered the final battle all too clearly—the way King Caldwell had driven himself into battle, his grief propelling him toward that final act. And now, that same dagger was here, in this room with them.

Edric turned to him, his eyes softening as he placed the dagger back on the desk. “I didn’t know it would be here,” he said quietly, his gaze not meeting Zephyr’s. “I didn’t mean for you to see it.”

Zephyr took a deep breath, his voice tight as he finally spoke. “He killed my brother with it,” he said, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. “I wondered why, at the time.”

The room was heavy with silence as Edric looked at him, his face unreadable for a long moment. “We ought to hate each other,” Edric murmured, his words not a question but a statement of fact. “When I was younger, I would have hated you. I would never have agreed to this marriage. I would have seen it as an insult to my mother’s memory.”

Zephyr nodded slowly, understanding that part of Edric’s past—his hatred, his desire for vengeance—was now part of their shared history. “Yes,” he said softly. “But we are here now. And we’ve chosen a different path.”

Edric’s eyes met his then, a flicker of something like hope in them. “And yet,” he said softly, as if to himself. “And yet.”

The moment lingered between them, quiet but heavy. Then, without another word, Edric turned to the door and spoke to the guard. “Take this to the treasury,” he ordered, his voice firm but not unkind. “Thank you.”

Zephyr nodded, his throat tight with emotion. The gesture—removing the dagger, putting it out of sight—spoke volumes. It was a sign of respect, of acknowledging the pain they both carried, and of the growing trust between them.

Edric’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You take the bed,” he said suddenly, his tone brisk as he moved to make up a spot for himself on the chaise. “I’ll sleep here.”

Zephyr frowned, ready to protest, but Edric shook his head firmly. “No, tonight, you sleep there. We’ll talk tomorrow, but tonight, you take the bed.”

A small smile tugged at Zephyr’s lips. “So, you’re to be a commanding husband, are you?” he teased.

Edric’s eyes widened in mock surprise before he laughed, throwing a pillow at Zephyr’s chest. “Keep your pillow,” Zephyr teased back, settling it beside him.

Edric’s grin softened as he lay back, a contented sigh escaping him. “Get some sleep, Zephyr. We’ve done it,” he said quietly, his voice full of satisfaction. “We’ll have peace between our lands.”

Zephyr nodded, the weight of their shared goal settling into his bones. It was true. They had accomplished something monumental. Peace, at least for now, was theirs.

As the room darkened, Zephyr’s mind wandered to Eskarven—the snow-capped peaks, the crisp winds. Soon, he thought. Soon, he would be home. He shut his eyes, the soft rhythm of Edric’s breathing across the room lulling him to sleep.