1William peeped into the dining hall, then continued his search in the hall once more. As he passed by a footman, he stopped to ask for the whereabouts of Lady Lucia, then hurried along again. The wedding preparations had taken them by storm and he hadn’t seen her the whole week. They were to get married in two days and he needed to talk to her.

He knocked on the door to the drawing room before entering. Despite what the footman told him, Lucia was nowhere in sight. Adrian, however, was standing by the easel studying the canvas. He looked up when he heard William’s footsteps, and automatically frowned.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

William shrugged. “I haven’t seen Lucia all week. I was told she might be here.”

“She was, but the women took her away for a final fitting,” Adrian said.

William walked to his side so that he could see the painting. He immediately recognized the cliff as the one he and Lucia visited a week ago, except this one was covered with the murres that she had talked about. They were homely creatures, with simple white bellies and sleek brown backs. They were perched on the jutting surfaces on the cliff with their young. Against the barren rock, there was life.

“She was talking about these birds when we were out there last week,” William said.

Adrian sighed, rolling his eyes. “She was always obsessed with them.” Turning to William, he said solemnly, “They mate for life, you know.”

William stiffened. “No, she didn’t tell me that,” he said slowly. He turned to Adrian. “I know you’re protective of Lucia,” he said. “Despite what you might think of me, I am a man of honor. I won’t hurt her, I swear.”

“Ah, well,” Adrian said. “I suppose I can always order one of our friendly Royal Assassins to kill you if you don’t keep your promises.”

“Really, Adrian. Must you always end the conversation on a threat to William?” Lucia said from the door.

The men looked up, startled. Lucia entered, her powder blue morning gown seemed to brighten the room. Reaching William first, she tiptoed and pecked him on the cheek. When she got to Adrian, he scowled.

“Have you finished your gown fitting?” he asked.

“Yes, don’t nag me, Adrian,” Lucia said, kissing him on the cheek as well. “The seamstress was fussing over nothing, as usual.”

She stepped back, smiling. “I have to say I’m glad the two of you are learning to get along five minutes on your own.”

William held out his hands helplessly and said, “As we will be working together, we thought it best to make our peace.”

“Precisely,” Adrian agreed quickly, thumping the other man on the back.

Lucia laughed, clearly amused by their sheepish looks. To William, she said, “I heard you were looking for me. Will you take a walk with me in the gardens?”

William offered his arm. “With pleasure, my Lady.”

As an afterthought, she looked over her shoulder and said to Adrian, “Don’t look at my painting anymore, Adrian. I haven’t finished it.”

“If you were to let us hang your paintings up instead of locking them away in the attic, I would not have to peek at your unfinished paintings,” Adrian retorted.

Lucia laid her hand on William’s elbow as he escorted her down to the gardens. “Why do you not hang up your paintings?” he asked.

Lucia smiled wistfully. “I’m afraid they’re not very good.”

William stopped and gaped at her. “I thought they were excellent. Well, at least the one you are working on right now.” With his free hand, he gestured. “You’ve got a gift for it.”

Lucia led him on, tugging him a little. “Have you ever seen the paintings in the King’s collection?” she asked. “My paintings pale in the shade of true genius. I mean, they’re simply the height of human creativity. The paintings are so powerful that they will bring tears to your eyes.”

William smiled a little as they stepped into the sunshine. “I think yours are amazing enough,” he said.

“Thank you, William.” She smiled. “That was very sweet of you to say.”

The leaves were red and gold. It was not very cold yet, but autumn was definitely in the air. The air smelled like cinnamon and sugar as Lucia inhaled. She loved the crunch of the dried leaves at her feet, and wished that she could dive into the piles of leaves that the groundskeepers raked in once more, as she had when she was a child. Everything in the garden was dying, but she knew that come next spring, they would awake from their dormancy and rise again. And she wouldn’t be here to see it.

“Lucia?”

As if waking from a dream, she roused herself out of her reverie, focusing back on William’s face, creased with concern.

“Yes?”

He sat them down on a bench by the little pond. The water lilies had turned brown, and the fish had sunk to the bottom in preparation for the winter. There was no movement in the still water. He cleared his throat. “Well, we are to be married in two days, but we haven’t discussed the… erm, arrangement.”

“What do you mean?” Lucia asked.

“Well, you probably already know the… ah, things that happen between, um, a man and a woman,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward her stomach. “We never discussed what we were to do with the um, the sleeping arrangement,” he finished lamely.

Her shoulders drooped. “I suppose we will have to share a bed after the wedding, at least for a while, to keep up the pretense,” she said softly.

“It is the only way,” he said quietly. He touched her arm briefly.

“I know,” she said. Her eyes were melancholic. “And afterwards?” she asked, lifting her face towards his. “What are we to do after the marriage, maybe a few months later?”

“I suppose that once you start to show, we can sleep in our own chambers,” William said. “I won’t force myself into your bed, Lucia.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, William.”

So am I, he thought to himself. Expelling a breath, William stared at the bleakness of a dying garden.

--

To William, it seemed that the whole estate showed up for their wedding. Though the rows of chairs at the front of the temple were reserved for the Aubren and Ravenshire family, the majority of the audience was villagers living in Lyonsyle. They were dressed in their finest, the men twisting their hats nervously between their hands as the women waited patiently for the ceremony to start.

William sighed, pulling to adjust his embroidered tunic again. The gold threads at the sleeves really itched, and he had to use all his willpower to not scratch. The priest and priestess stood serenely in front of him on the dais. The priest was young, not much older than William. He had probably just been ordained into Priesthood. He wore his ceremonial white robe, embroidered with the golden emblem of the God of Fire, the Father of all things. The priestess was an older woman, her silver hair bound by gold ribbons. Her white robe was identical to that of the priest except for the emblem of the Goddess of the Earth, Mother of all living creatures.

The white marble of the temple was draped with golden fabric and ribbons. White silk lined the path from the door to the dais, scattered with white rose petals. The entire temple smelled of incense and roses. William sighed, readjusting his sleeves once more.

“Patience, my son,” the priestess said, her voice low and melodic. “She will be here soon enough.”

William nodded. As the first chord of the wedding music struck, he, along with everyone else, turned his head toward the door of the temple.

--

Lucia wiped her mouth with a handkerchief as she threw up what little breakfast she had managed to eat during the morning. She knew it wasn’t just the baby that was making her sick. When she pried her hands from the rim of the basin and held them in front of her, they were shaking. Groaning, she laid her head against the cool wood of the dressing table.

She knew that in a couple of hours, her life would no longer be the same. She would not be the same. No longer Lady Lucia of Lyonsyle, but Lady Lucia of Ravenshire. All her actions would become subjected to the scrutiny of her husband.

Peering at the mirror, she checked herself once more, making sure that every hair was still in place. Maria had straightened her dark hair by sheer will and a ruthless wielding of the irons. It was now looped gracefully across her neck with a wreath of white roses woven into her hair.

Leaning closer to the mirror, she carefully dabbed a little color on her lips. Maria had performed a miracle, hiding the smudges underneath her eyes with powder earlier. Lucia could hardly distinguish their presence now.

A knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts. From the mirror, she saw Maria enter. As part of the bride’s assembly, she was also in a plain white gown.

“It’s time,” she said.

Lucia stood up woodenly and followed her down. Shifting impatiently, Lucia heaved a long sighed as she stood in front of the entrance of the temple, waiting for the novices to open the door. Before leaving her, Maria kissed Lucia on both cheeks.

“Smile, dear child,” she said warmly. “It is your wedding day.”

Lucia clasped Maria’s hand. “Thank you, Maria.”

As the heavy oak door creaked open, Lucia took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into her future.

At first, William could only see the halo around her figure, but as she stepped closer, his mouth fell open. Her gown was in pure white with a modest neckline dipping gracefully down, her shoulders left bare. The edge was embroidered with gold flowers and vines. Flaring sleeves of white silk descended down her arms. Her hips belled out gently below the bodice. The wreath of white flowers glowed against the darkness of her hair. Her eyes were wide and unsmiling, but he saw the determinacy in them. When she stood next to him, he offered his hand and clasped her cold fingers in his.

The ceremonious music stopped, its last note ringing in the spaciousness of the temple. The priest cleared his skinny throat nervously while the priestess looked no more perturbed compared to before. The priest started chanting in Ancient Erythian, the soft syllables rolling off his tongue like a melody. The priestess joined him, her pitch harmonizing with the priest’s incantation. Together, they pleaded to the Gods and Goddesses to bless this union and to gift this man and woman happiness and strength. Their joined voices soared above to the high dome of the temple.

Gravely, the priest turned to William and said, “Do you, William of Ravenshire, heir to the estate of Ravenshire, willingly accept the sacred bond of marriage? Will you assume the responsibilities of a husband to Lucia of Aubrene? Will you cherish her, care for her, and respect her?”

“Yes,” William said.

The priestess repeated the same vow for Lucia, to which she also answered with a resounding yes.

“God of Air, we call on you to gift this man and woman with patient wisdom,” the priest cried. Lifting their joined hands, he blew a breath over their knuckles.

“Goddess of Water, we call on you to gift this man and woman with strength,” the priestess followed.

She lifted the crystal dish from the alter and dipped her fingers into the scented water. The priestess dabbed it gently onto Lucia’s forehead, then William’s, joining them for life.

“God of Fire, Gracious Father, we call on you to gift this man and woman with love.” The priest passed the white candle on the alter to William and directed Lucia to wrap her hand around it as well. Together, they lit the red candle on the alter.

“Goddess of Earth, Loving Mother, we call on you to gift this man and woman with life.”

The priestess gathered a pinch of dust between her fingers and dashed it on their hands.

Together, the priest and priestess intoned, “O Great Ones, with your powers, join this man and woman in marriage and bless them with your guidance.”

At the priest’s signal, a novice priest stepped up to the dais to present the wedding rings. William picked up the thin band of gold and slipped it onto Lucia’s finger and she did the same.

“As husband and wife, you may now kiss,” the priest announced.

William bent his head as Lucia wetted her lips, nervously waiting. But he just pecked her lips so briefly that she didn’t know if she felt relieved or disappointed. As they walked out of the temple, the people showered them with handfuls of fragrant petals. Lucia smiled as the familiar faces of her people appeared in the crowd, cheering and whistling in good humor.

The new couple stayed close to their families as they shook hands and accepted congratulations. Lucia smiled so much that she felt as if her cheeks had frozen in place. There were just so many people that she felt a sudden panic, as if there wasn’t enough air around to breathe. She was grateful when William noticed her discomfort and held her closer. The crowd dispersed gradually, and finally they saw off the last well-wisher. Lord Ravenshire and Lord Aubren thanked the priest and priestess, then ordered the footmen to bring around the carriage. A feast awaited them at the manor.

Lucia and William were ushered onto the first one with the assurance that the others would follow shortly. The carriage lurched, and they were on their way. Lucia rested her loosely clasped hands on her lap, and looked out the window silently.

“Here, there’s something in your hair,” he said, gently untangling a white petal from her hair.

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I thought it was a nice ceremony.”

She shook her head and gave him a tight smile. “I think I’m just a little worn out. I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she confessed.

“I see.” He looked at the white petal in his palm before crushing it in his fist.

--

It seemed to William as if the entire estate came to the feast. Even the largest hall in the Aubren manor could barely hold the number of people. He had no idea how the cook managed to prepare enough food to feed a small army. As the new couple sat at the head of the table, the mayors of the Lyonsyle villages each came up to toast the union of the two families.

The mayor of some village or another was talking to William about the latest price in wool while William carefully composed his expression to a polite interest. The man waved to the serving boy nearby and offered the ceremonial spice wine to both William and Lucia. Seeing Lucia’s hesitation, William intercepted the glass meant for her.

“She’s got no stomach for wine,” he said to the mayor. “Allow me to drink in her stead.”

Accepting the man’s toast, William knocked back two goblets of spiced wine with much enthusiastic cheer from the people around. It was the same for the next mayor, and the one after that.

Lucia frowned, looking at him with concern. “Will you be alright?” she spoke lowly next to his ear. “That is a lot of spiced wine.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Besides, it is an insult to refuse offered wine.”

“We can retire after an hour’s time,” she reminded him.

“Lucia, there’s no need to nag,” he said after he greeted the next mayor. His eyes twinkling, he said, “When we were in the Mohana Mountains, there was nothing to do all winter besides drinking spiced wine to pass the time.”

“And bedding women, no doubt,” she muttered disapprovingly underneath her breath.

“Did you say something?” he asked, bending his head closer to hers. She could smell the strong spice on his breath.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Lucia’s women whisked her away as the meal came to a close. William smiled at her reassuringly as she left reluctantly, obviously still worried about him. At the command of Lord Aubren, the serving women came to clear off the tables. The wedding guests relaxed in their chairs as the evening’s entertainment arrived at the hall. A troop of jugglers entered, and soon the air was flying with various objects, much to the amusement of everyone. One even had flaming torches in his hands as he tossed them into the air. As the night descended, the jugglers cleared out. A minstrel of good repute was introduced. He settled down by the fire, plucking his harp and singing of fair maidens and brave warriors. His smooth tenor voice draped like a blanket over his audience. The guests grew silent as the minstrel’s voice soared.

Come with me, ye fair maiden,

If your heart be true.

Under the new moon we’ll lie,

I’ll give my love to you.

William propped his head on his fist as he listened. Glancing around him, he saw his new brother staring into his wine goblet, deep in thought. He sighed deeply. True love indeed.

The minstrel was gifted. He sang for a little more than an hour without repeating any one song. When he was finally allowed to leave, William had enough of songs of love. It was one thing to listen to the songs in a tavern with many willing wenches, but another to listen on his wedding night knowing that he would not be able to touch his wife. Standing up, he bid the guests a good evening, insisting that he must retire for the night. Under many speculative jeers, he left the hall.

Their wedding chamber had been prepared elsewhere in the house. Knowing William may not know the way, a footman had been assigned to guide him. His borrowed manservant was waiting, stripping him out of his wedding finery. William bathed in the scented water, scrubbing away the day’s weariness. His manservant put his clothes away and came back with a thick embroidered robe.

William put the robe on and sat by the fire. On the other side of the door was the joint chamber, and Lucia. He stared into the flames as the manservant combed the knots out of his wet hair.

“Would you be needing anything else, Sir?” the manservant asked.

“No, you may leave.”

William sat by the fire until his hair dried. Knowing he could not stall any longer, he sighed and opened the door to his bed for the night.

There was no light except for the fire in the fireplace. The chamber was draped in white silk. His eyes fell involuntarily on the bed, and the figure underneath the white sheets. Very quietly, he closed the door behind him and walked to her side of the bed.

She had already fallen asleep. Her thick hair fanned across the white pillow and her hand tucked underneath her rosy cheek. He caressed her face with a finger, tracing the line. He sighed again, then went to his side of the bed. He lifted the sheets, folding them carefully over her without disturbing her. He thought she might have been in a nightgown, but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment when he saw it.

Taking the dagger he’d hidden in his pocket, he unsheathed it. He pressed his finger to the blade until the first drop of blood oozed out. He dabbed the blood onto the bed sheet. When he finished, he used the linen on the nightstand to stanch the bleeding and to clean off the dagger. He left the bloodied linen, but returned the dagger to the other chamber. He wasn’t supposed to bring any sharp objects to his wedding chamber.

When he returned, Lucia was still sleeping. Draping his robe over a chair, he climbed into his bed, pulling the sheets over him. He put his back to the girl, trying to forget her presence.

Lucia opened her eyes when she heard his breath evened in sleep. As she stared into the darkness, a single tear fell down her cheek.