AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The wide petals looked similar to the water lilies that grew in the ponds of the palace, but broader. The delicate petals were long and spindly like the rays of the sun bursting out from the center. They were so unique, the delicate beauty almost breathtaking. I wasn’t even sure a plant like that truly existed.
It was all like something out of a dream. Save for the white snakes. I had had enough of snakes.
As soon as I entered the bubble of voices that had been murmuring in a steady stream reduced to a hush, the slow sounds of someone’s heels echoing through the crowd. I shifted, walking slowly as I tried to see what was coming, but the crush of nobles that stood between me and the altar wouldn’t budge.
I hadn’t so much as been offered a spot near my family, near my father who sat alone in a chair, curled over the side as he mumbled and whimpered like a wounded animal. I was near the back, behind Aeinya’s family, behind the gentry of the court, tucked nearly beside the peasants and pilgrims.
It was where I wanted to be anyway.
Where I would be soon.
“Representing The Goddess, who will oversee this binding, we welcome our Queen, Dalyah.” A swish of fabric accented the priestesses announcement, everyone around me bowing their heads as they dropped into a bow or a curtsy.
I followed right along with them, even if I didn’t drop my head. I didn’t dare, not after what my Uncle had said, not after all the weird warnings from the Fae. I kept my head up, bowing with the rest of them as I watched Mother swish her way to the far side of the altar, her body swathed in a gown that looked more like the ice that made up her soul rather than the clouds I was sure she was supposed to look like.
I wasn’t even sure Mother noticed me in the crowd, if she saw that I didn’t bow my head, or if she scowled at the way my hair wasn’t done up quite right. For the first time, I didn’t care. I stood there, staring at the backs of Batian and Aeinya for what would probably be the last time.
Batian kneeled before the altar, his back firm and strong as he held his hand out for the ceremony, his golden cloak matching his boots and tunic until he looked like a gold coin with a mop of yellow hair. The Sun Prince.
Aeinya merely sagged where she knelt in her dress, her breaths ragged as she hunched and clung to the carved marble altar. She was dressed in billows of fabric, her hair braided and bound into a circlet that resembled a crown, all of the flowers that were wound into it like the jewels.
They both looked lovely, beautiful even, and I knew they would be happy. I prayed to the Goddess that they would be.
Swallowing my goodbye, I waited until everyone had risen from their courtesy to mouth the word, those knots that had been forming in my chest since I had been ripped from my carriage sucking the last of my air as my face burned. I sagged against the column to my left, staring at the intricate petals of the lilies while my mother’s voice rang over everything, and for once she didn’t sound like she had been forced to swallow poison.
“Two souls in the eyes of the Goddess are precious things. Two souls aligned with the wishes of the Goddess and all that she sees within this world is a treasured thing.” Mother’s voice was light, airy, and different. It was almost as if she was different.
She looked down at Batian and Aeinya with all the love and adoration that I had spent so much of my life hoping to see from her. Pride. Joy. Love. Each emotion was bathed on her face as she looked at them. Expressions that she had once given me but had now faded into memories and dreams. Dreams that all of that would return.
It never would.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned to where the Ramal slumped in his chair, still mumbling and whimpering and seeing nothing. The last person to look at me with all of that joy, and even that had been wiped away.
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, but I let them fall. I let them wash away the pain that I was sure was plastered there and focused on what little I could see of Aeinya as Batian took her hand. They looked at each other with all the love in the world.
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to escape from this place. Escape from this emotional hell that this wedding had turned into.
“It is in the eyes of the Goddess that we bind these two, in magic, in life, in love, in body and in soul. Your hands, please.” I knew what came next, the hand fasting as they were tied together by their Catalysts using ribbons blessed on the altars of the Temple. I waited for their Catalysts to step forward, but there was no rustle of red capes, no spark of magic. There was nothing, because the Catalysts weren’t there. As they hadn’t been there when we were preparing to leave the Runturin, or when I had been led to my mother’s tent, or laying with Aeinya below the carriage. They hadn’t been anywhere.
As Aeinya had said.
Once again, I didn’t see a red cloak anywhere, only the black uniforms of the snakes placed around the space in a wide ring like storm clouds in an otherwise perfect sky.
Instead of the Catalyst, Mother stood, but she did not raise a ribbon. She raised a knife, slicing the sharp point over either of their palms, sending ribbons of red blood onto the stone surface of the altar.
I didn’t remember this part, but perhaps it was different for the future Ramal. No one else seemed surprised, after all. I was the only one who stared in horror at the blood that dripped from them, that seeped through the ribbons as my mother wrapped their bleeding palms together. I forced myself to look away, the red color settling darkly in my soul.
In moments the consummation would begin. Then I would leave, I would leave everything.
Why was it so hard to breathe when I knew I was doing the right thing?
Uncle Jahn and his warning, his panic was playing on repeat as the scent of their blood hit me, my mother’s words still echoing over everything. I didn’t move from my pillar, still choosing to stare at the lilies, at the words traced in between each delicate petal.
“Beautiful aren’t they?” Someone whispered beside me as the boom of my mother’s voice sealed the binding magic and rattled over everything. I nearly jumped out of my skin, that rattling pain in my chest exploding in panic as I turned toward the pretty blonde, soft curls falling around her face and down the back of her threadbare dress. The dress was made for a larger woman, the neckline low enough to be scandalous, revealing the top of a golden tattoo that swirled and curved over her collarbone.
She was one of the pilgrims. She smelled of soap, the dirt I had seen covering them before scrubbed away, even her dress was clean, although a little damp. Perhaps I could ask her to stow me away, perhaps I could ask her for help. No words came, I continued to stare at the golden lines of her chest.
“The lilies,” she continued to whisper when I had clearly been staring too long. “They are beautiful.”
