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Clutching the flowers with tight hands, I listened half-heartedly to Demos’ words about ancient customs, a bridge uniting two civilizations, and a promise upheld. The Fealty itself was vague enough on its own with or without his explanations, so nothing he said in his prepared speech piqued my interest.
Instead, in my periphery, I studied Fadon’s profile. A prince of the Ongahri. His nearness was unsettling. A heat like a small fire seemed to radiate out from him. He was tall and so much bigger than me and so much older. Even after meeting with him on his balcony this morning, speaking to him freely, he was still a stranger. Whereas Demos filled the room with his ethereal being, bringing a bright light with him wherever he went, the Ongahri captain filled the space with raw power. A dark, bold, deep energy that screamed “I am here.”
As if hearing my impressions of him, he turned and looked down at me. Those eyes. So black. Not unkind, but not reassuring either.
“Lady Sierra Deidra Linden of Providence,” Demos said, pulling my attention away from the wild man beside me. “Is it your intention to accept the terms of this Agreement, to abide by promises this contract details, whereupon you consent to becoming the Fealty, representing the people of Titus, truly and willingly sacrificing your body, mind, and soul to be given to this Ongahri in good faith?”
“It is, Servant.” My voice came out stronger than I thought it would, thank the gods.
“And do you, Captain Fadon Trajan, representing the Ongahri and standing in by proxy for your brother, the betrothed, Prince Lysander Trajan of House Trajan, agree to these terms, accepting this woman, Lady Sierra Deidra Linden of Providence, as Fealty, holding these promises this Agreement details, in good faith?”
“I do.”
“Please sign your names here and here,” Demos said, pointing at the bottom of the long scroll.
I briefly glanced at all the signatures of the brides that had come before me. Women chosen as Fealty like me, now only ashes, their names part of history. A chill touched my spine as I realized that one day, decades from now—gods willing—another signature would be below mine. It was a mysterious sisterhood, and I felt haunted and wistful, wishing I could speak to each one of them.
Now that our signatures had been added, Fadon and I took our places once more.
“Representing the Basilica of the Holy Owl, I, Demos of Erikos, bless this vow and acknowledge these words as truth. From this day forward, let it be known that the Fealty has been made and accepted by all pertinent parties, the Agreement therein sealed.”
It was Demos’ turn to sign, but in a different place on the old document, followed by a small blob of white wax from a gold stamp in the shape of an owl. Now finished, Demos turned to us again. “Lady Sierra and Captain Trajan, please face one another and join hands.
Beside me, Fadon started. But when I met his gaze, his expression was that of indifference. I handed the flowers to Mother and, with slight hesitation, took the captain’s hands into my own.
Fadon began to speak, but his first words came out gruff. He cleared his throat. Was he nervous? Just the idea alone threatened a giggle to bubble up in me. I tamped it down.
“In Ongar’s name, I vow to protect you and hold these promises true. From now on, your family will be the Ongahri. You are now one of us.” He looked down at me with solemn eyes as he released my hands. “Jon?”
Confused, I realized he was addressing his Second, who appeared beside us, removing something from his tunic which he handed over to Fadon.
“This is a token symbolizing this union,” Fadon continued, with all the dispassion of a tired merchant selling the last of the day’s wares—he was certainly no Demos. “You are now Princess Sierra of House Trajan.”
He lifted my hair away from my nape and shoulders, and with the deftness and speed of a pickpocket, clasped something around my neck, its weight light against my skin. It still held the warmth from Jon’s body heat. My fingers traced its outline, finding several small chains that held together some kind of stone that rested in the hollow at the base of my throat.
Fadon was looking at me intently. Was I supposed to respond? Did he expect me to make some kind of speech? Some other vow? But then Father and Demos started talking casually, the tone relaxed, not like the reverent cadence Demos had delivered when reciting all those ceremonial words.
So, I stared back at Fadon and into those black pools. I felt a pull then, and the choker around my neck seemed to tighten. As if he knew, his gaze dropped to my throat, making me swallow. A rumbling sound, almost inaudible, broke the spell. I blinked. It was coming from him. Jon’s slap on Fadon’s back put an end to it, however.
“Well done, Captain. And welcome to the Ongahri, Princess Sierra.” Jon beamed at me, his charming smile showing genuine pleasure at my new status.
“Thank you, Jon.” I smiled back. One couldn’t really help but like the man.
Mother appeared by my side, taking me in her arms. “You did well, Daughter. Oh, here. You can take these now.” She handed me back the nosegay.
“So, what now?” I asked her, looking at the others, who were still chatting away.
“We will have luncheon. Then—”
“Actually,” Fadon broke in, raising his voice for all to hear, “we need to be off. I’d like to leave before evening sets in.”
“What? So early? But…” Mother said.
“There is no need, Captain,” implored Father. “Surely you don’t wish to leave so soon! A few more days to rest before the journey would be ideal.” He looked to Demos now. “As our guests, we would be honored to have you as long as you wish to stay.”
“I apologize for the change in plans, “Fadon said, “but I have made up my mind. My men are preparing for departure as we speak.” He eyed Demos. “Will you be ready to depart?” he asked the Servant.
“Of course. I trust there is no emergency?” Demos asked, his brow furrowed.
