Page 10 of Winds of Destiny

Kai

Although he hides it well, I can see that Prince Camrael is miserable. Some of the clues are little things: the slight pallor of his golden skin, the way he holds his cup with two hands instead of one—to hide the shaking, I presume.

The biggest clue isn’t his behavior at all, but that of Lord Turo, who’s as near to him as a shadow tonight. He’s absolutely expressionless, but the way he’s gripping his sword speaks volumes. The two of them are close, mirroring each other’s emotions. If one is upset, then the other is.

I need to do something about this.

I’ve secured the betrothal. Soon we’ll be married—proxy married, but it’s as good as the real thing to me, despite no one else here knowing my true identity. A contract between our cities is a good idea for many reasons, but the biggest reason is simply this—Huridell is stagnating. Our city has been prosperous and isolated for a long time, and despite the favor of our god and how we’ve kept our magic so far, signs of deterioration are starting to show.

We don’t explore, we don’t try new things, and nothing novel is ever created. We’re becoming as set in stone as the mountain itself while the rest of the world shifts and evolves, and that will be our downfall if nothing is done to combat it.

Camrael is everything I could ask for in a husband. He’s beautiful, he’s smart, he’s inventive, and his reputation for novelty and creativity has spread far beyond the bounds of his city. I’ve been tempted to write to him for years, but with my father’s obsessive monitoring of all communications and the way he’s gotten more and more desperate for control since my mother died, I decided it was safer not to put Camrael on his map.

Camrael is amazing, but right now he’s also unhappy, and that won’t do. I want him happy. I want him to… Shit, I want him to at least like me and my people, rather than resign himself to us.

The first step toward that must be mine, given how unevenly my men and I have presented ourselves so far. Lord Turo, I know, is unimpressed with our conduct.

I’m impressed as hell with him , but now isn’t the time to think about that. I make my way over to Cam, who appears to be at the mercy of his high priest at the moment, and move to intervene. “Excuse me,” I say to the priest, an older man with a white mustache that dangles down to his collarbones, “I need a moment with the prince.”

The priest, to his credit, goes with it. He heads off to torment the king instead, leaving the three of us together: me, Camrael, and Turo. Camrael looks at me with grim acceptance— No. None of that. We both deserve better.

“How did you move those beasts?” I ask.

The prince blinks. “I… I’m sorry, what?”

“The whelvers. That’s what you call them, right?”

He nods slowly.

“We never used them in the mountains before the everwinds stopped—our rams were strong and stable enough to get by—but I’ve heard of them before. I’ve never heard of them uprooting themselves like that.” I raise one eyebrow and try a little smile. “It’s not your magic, is it?”

Camrael smiles back, genuinely, and… Oh . He’s beautiful when he’s somber, but he’s astonishing when he’s smiling. “No, definitely not. They were responding to sound.”

I’m confused. “I…didn’t hear you calling to them.”

“Not that sort of sound.” He’s getting more animated now, his hands going from limp at his sides to active as he begins to sketch out his thoughts. “Sound is a— Do you know anything about the science of waves?”

“Next to nothing,” I admit.

“Oh, then let me…hmm.” He taps his chin for a moment. “Have you ever been to a very high place and shouted really, really loudly?”

“I’ve definitely done that.” It’s a form of competition in Huridell, seeing how many times you can make your own voice shout back at you. “The shout echoes.”

“Yes! Have you ever wondered why , though?”

“I… No.” I shrug. “It’s just what happens.”

“But why?”

I feel like I’m failing some sort of test. I’d be worried if Lord Turo, standing just behind his prince, didn’t look equally baffled. “I don’t know,” I say.

Luckily, Camrael doesn’t seem bothered by that.

“It’s not something that many people have studied, but the easiest way to think about it is to imagine the energy of your voice as a wave. It flows out from you”—he uses his hand to mime a wavy form in the air—“and when it impacts something in the distance, it bounces back at you.” He taps my chest with his hand. “That’s what the echo is, the hard surfaces of the mountains reflecting your own voice.”

“That’s fascinating.” I’m not being false—I’ve never heard of this sort of thing before, but it makes sense. All the more proof that Huridell needs someone like Camrael in it. “But what does it have to do with how you called the whelvers to you?”

“Oh, well, that’s a little different, but it works off the same principle of sound as waves. We’re going to have to dip into a discussion of physiology for a moment, though, so let me know if I confuse you.”

I’m then treated to a description of the various ways animals have of hearing sounds based on their anatomy, then high tones versus low, then a discussion of the little flute he used to affect the whelvers. It’s a lot, but I do my best to follow it. This is the most the prince has spoken to me yet without including an insult, and the subject is intriguing.

“So they can hear a sound when you blow that flute that we can’t,” I summarize when he’s done.

“Precisely!” Camrael beams at me, looking pleased that I’ve managed to follow his undoubtedly simplified explanation. “Well done. It’s not a new technique, you understand—our people used this right up until the everwinds died. I just needed to revisit it. The oldest whelvers remembered the commands their handlers used and responded to hearing them from me, that’s all.”

“Far from ‘all’,” I protest. I can see from the approving look on his face that Lord Turo agrees with me. “How many other people would think to use forgotten techniques to move creatures that look as mobile as boulders and come to the aid of a group of strangers? You’re not just exceptionally brave, but exceptionally talented as well.”

“Oh, well.” Is he blushing? I can’t quite tell in the light of the setting sun, but I wish I could. I wish I could press my hands to his cheeks and feel the heat of their flush. Perhaps complimenting his looks would do it.

Before I can, a servant walks over with a tray of crystal flutes. Sweet-smelling wine rests inside of them—the wine for the prince’s salute. Directly after that is the marriage ceremony.

Camrael’s face falls, then firms back to resignation as he takes a glass. Lord Turo hands one to me as well before taking one for himself.

All around us, people are quieting as the wine is passed, and even though I’ve been waiting for this moment, I also curse it. Things were going so well—he was so genuinely interested in talking to me—and now…

King Perael hoists his glass in the air. “A salute to my son, Prince Camrael,” he calls out, voice clear and deep. “And to his betrothed, Prince Eleas Megethos! May they share a long and prosperous life together.”

No mention of love, but why would there be? As far as the Zephythans are concerned, this marriage is a transaction. That won’t be enough for me, I know it already—I want more from Camrael. I want to earn his affection and, eventually, his trust. I want to make him happy.

I’ll take what I can get for now, though. Everyone drinks, and I follow suit, draining my glass dry. Distantly, I hear a shattering sound, followed by a quiet, “Eh, fuck,” from my sergeant, and I resist the urge to close my eyes and sigh.

“And now,” King Perael continues as the priest settles in at the altar behind him, “to seal our intent, a marriage ceremony between my son and Prince Eleas’s chosen representative, Commander Kai Moraneth.”

The glass is slipped from my hand almost without my noticing—Lord Turo is swift and stealthy. He does the same for Camrael, and a path opens up in the crowd to lead us to the altar.

Camrael begins to move, but I reach out on impulse and grab his hand. He turns to me, startled out of his unhappy acceptance by my touch.

“Let’s go together,” I say, and a tiny, there-and-gone smile flits across his face. We walk forward side by side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the approval on his family’s faces. I can’t tell what Lord Turo looks like since he’s behind me, but I’m willing to bet he’s not quite so full of approbation.

That’s fine. We’ll get there. I need to connect with Camrael before I try to bring his lover into the fold as well. One improbable thing at a time.

We stop in front of the altar and the crowd quiets. The sun has nearly set, but the sky’s purple and red and pink colors are reflected in the statue of Zephyth’s god, making something glorious out of a being who would otherwise intimidate even me. The high priest raises his hands into the air in a gesture of supplication. Each hand has something cupped in its palm—something that shines. Scales, perhaps? If so, they’re huge.

“For the good of our people, our city, and our god, we give our prince, Camrael Rabann, to Prince Eleas Megethos to be wed. May their union be prosperous.” He brings his hands together in a firm clap, and the sound he creates with the scales rings through the courtyard with the quivering grandeur of one of our immense iron bells.

“May their union be peaceful.”

Another clap, and the new sound layers over the first, deepening it.

“May their union be kind.”

And again.

“May their union bring them, and our cities, great joy.”

A final clap, and the tones are strong enough to nearly vibrate me out of my skin, despite the smallness of the instruments he’s using. It takes a long time for them to finally die out.

The high priest looks at Camrael. “Repeat after me, my prince.”

Pale and trembling, Camrael nevertheless repeats the words with a strong voice. “I, Camrael Rabann, will share my life with my husband Eleas. I will defend him, delight him, and stand by him until our journey ends.”

He doesn’t look at me throughout it, and no wonder. He has no idea who he’s really binding himself to with this vow.

I’m going to make sure he’s not disappointed when he finds out.

“Now you,” the high priest says once Camrael is done. “I, standing for Eleas Megethos, dedicate myself to my husband Camrael. I will defend him, delight him, and stand by him all the rest of my days.”

“I,” I say, and it’s so tempting to skip the next part but I can’t, not yet, “standing for Prince Eleas Megethos, dedicate myself to my husband Camrael.”

I turn and look directly at my betrothed for the next part. “I will defend him, delight him, and stand by him all the rest of my days,” I say firmly. “And may our gods strike me down if I fail in this privilege.”

Camrael looks poleaxed. I probably shouldn’t have added the last part, but I couldn’t help it. He needs to know that I take his presence in my life seriously and that I’ll work hard to keep him happy, no matter what that entails. If it means letting him bring his protector along to Huridell, I’ll do it. If it means letting him sleep with a hundred different men, I’ll do it.

Although I hope he can learn to be satisfied with me, at least some of the time.

“Exchange your tokens,” the high priest says.

Camrael moves first, hands rising to grasp the slender chain I’ve only just noticed around his neck. He eases it over his elaborate braids, revealing a simple silver pendant on the end of it that is holding the largest pearl I’ve ever seen. The deep purple color is an exact match to the mountains in shadow, and I can’t help my feeling of awe as he lays the chain over my head so that the pendant comes to rest a handspan beneath my throat.

“A gift from our god Ophiucas, to bless my marriage with Prince Eleas,” he says.

It’s a fabulous gift. I have none for him—if I’d known we would be proxy married here, I’d have made sure to bring a wedding gift appropriate for the occasion. I’ll have to make up for it once we get to Huridell. As it is, I place my hand over the pearl and marvel at the smooth, warm feel of it. Camrael’s eyes widen for a moment—I wonder if he’s thinking about me touching him the same way I’m touching his gift.

I should be so lucky.

“I accept this gift with love and gratitude.” The air around us seems to thicken for a moment, the smell of salt increasing like we’ve just been doused by a wave, but instead of feeling clammy or wet, I feel cool and refreshed.

“Seen and blessed!” the high priest intones, and then he begins to clap again. All the people in the courtyard clap as well, and even though they’re not holding magical scales, the way everything blends together into a roar of glorious approval is enough to set my heart racing. I look at Camrael only to see him glancing over his shoulder, staring back at Lord Turo with an agonized expression on his face.

I yearn to comfort my betro—my husband. He is my husband in truth now, whether he knows it or not. As soon as we’re safe in Huridell, with the Gate to protect us from Embros and my supporters to protect us from my father’s wrath, I’ll tell him everything. Until then, I’ll do my damnedest to make him happy.

No matter what it takes.