Page 37 of Wild Reverence

Nathaniel’s fading smile was revitalized, brightening his eyes. “Excellent. Now, Vince, I have come to dress you for the parley.”

That was my cue to avert my eyes.

I turned away from them, my attention drawn to the tapestry of the four foxes hanging on the wall.

Four foxes to represent the four sons of Beckett, winding through an ivy-laden forest. White flowers bloomed where their paws had trod.

An owl was perched in the branches above them like a fair omen.

Fireflies were scattered all throughout, bright enough to be stars, and I was tempted to link their points together, as if I were creating my own constellation.

Behind me, the brothers spoke in low tones. Between their words was the steady clink of armor as it was fastened, piece by piece, but I waited until Vincent said my name before I spun on my heel, my eyes finding him instantly.

The armor suited him—the firelight caressed the dark steel like it was a living, breathing thing—but it was the golden circlet on his brow that caught my attention. I had never seen him wear one, and for a moment, he reminded me of a god.

I opened my mouth to speak, but did not know what I truly yearned to say. That he had surprised me? That he was familiar, even enclosed in steel and gold? That he wore the title of lord with grace and poise, despite knowing it was a responsibility that he had never desired?

Alyse interrupted the awkward moment. She arrived with two attendants, willowy young women who looked at me with awe, and Nathaniel departed with the promise to see us later in the hall for the wedding feast.

Now it was Vincent’s turn to avert his eyes, and he sat before the fire to finish the last of the wine, his back angled to us as Alyse and the attendants began to prepare me as a bride.

They gently removed my moonstone belt and wet gown, and I stood, naked, as one of the girls washed the dried ichor from my back, my leg.

Another pressed drops of perfume to the pulse of my neck, the inner curve of my wrist, the back of my knees, and the fragrance strangely reminded me of my mother. Moss, amber, and a hint of sweet smoke.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, relieved when Alyse brought the chemise over my head, so that I could hide the flicker of emotion.

It took all three sets of hands to get the wedding gown on my tall frame.

There was a blue bodice, strung with gilded ribbon, and detached sleeves that were red, embroidered with small white flowers.

The skirts were blue and gold, heavy and pleated with scarlet lining.

A chain of white flowers was stitched upon the hem, their centers set with pearls.

When I moved, the train dragged behind me on the floor.

Next, they had me sit. One of the girls began to comb my hair while the other knelt to remove my river slippers.

“Oh, those must stay,” I said, drawing my feet beneath the drape of the skirts.

She looked confused but nodded, preparing the veil instead.

“My belt,” I said, feeling bare without it. I reached for the moonstones, which Alyse had set aside.

“That belt will not look right with the gown,” Alyse said with a shake of her head. “In fact, it will clash.”

“I go nowhere without it,” I replied firmly, thinking of the sword, the shield, the letters, the stray whimsies I kept stored within those pockets. The eithral scale on an arrow shaft that still glistened gold from my mother’s death.

I carried that weapon, as if in punishment.

I could not forgive myself for my past mistakes.

Alyse stared down at me, the two of us engaged in a strange, silent battle. The attendant’s comb went still in my hair, as if she had frozen, until Vincent’s voice melted the frost between us. From across the room, he said, “My wife will have anything she wants.”

Alyse wordlessly submitted. She handed the belt to me, but her nose wrinkled, as if the moonstones could bite her.

I had to give her an ounce of respect; she was not afraid of me, and she did love Vincent. Protecting him would most likely be the only common ground the two of us would ever find, and I stifled a shiver of relief as I latched the moonstones around the bodice, just above the skirts.

Once my damp hair had been tamed by what the girls explained was a snood—a net studded with pearls that rested at the nape of my neck—Alyse brough the veil over my head.

It was sheer and delicate, reminding me of a cloud, and the world turned hazy as I gazed through it.

When I breathed, it fluttered over my face, and I could taste the afterthought of wine.

“She is ready, lord,” Alyse said after setting a golden circlet on my brow to hold the veil in place. The companion to Vincent’s. The attendants offered me their hands, and while I did not need their assistance, I accepted, rising.

Vincent also stood, turning to regard me.

I did not know what he thought, what he felt, when he looked at me dressed as his bride. His face was set in a careful expression, one that might have looked bored if I had not known him better.

There was a sad glimmer in his eyes, as if he were beholding something he would never have.

“Are you ready?” he asked after a long moment.

I nodded, my voice lost.

When he walked to me and held out his hand, I only hesitated a moment before I took it.