Chapter 20 The Wedding night
"Finally."
The voice came from behind me. Elowyn.
I turned. She was standing in the doorway of the Great Hall, a goblet of wine in her hand, her expression one of deep satisfaction.
"I thought they'd never leave," she said. "All those creatures. So... unsettling."
I said nothing.
"Still," she continued, examining her nails. "It's over now. The wedding is done. The guests are gone. You're officially part of the family." She smiled, that blade-velvet smile. "Congratulations, sister."
I could have responded. I could have lashed out, reminded her of the power I had displayed at the engagement party, made her regret every cruel word.
But I was tired. So tired.
"Thank you, Elowyn," I said. "For all your help with the wedding."
Her eyes narrowed, searching for the sarcasm. She didn't find it.
"Cardan is waiting for you," she said. "Traditionally, the bride and groom leave the celebration early. To consummate the marriage."
The words hung in the air like poison.
"Of course," I said. "I wouldn't want to break tradition."
I walked past her into the hall. Cardan was standing near the head table, speaking quietly with Captain Aldric. He looked up when I approached, his silver eyes flickering over my face.
"It's time," I said.
He nodded. "I know."
\-———————————-
Cardan's chambers were larger than mine. Even bigger than my room back in Hel.
Of course they were. He was the High King. His quarters took up an entire wing of the palace, with windows that overlooked the city and a bed that could have fit six people comfortably. The decor was darker than the rest of the palace, deep blues and silvers, like the colors of my own quarters. I wondered if he had chosen them himself, or if they had been chosen for him.
I stood in the center of the room, still in my wedding gown, my living train pooling at my feet. My hair was still swept up in its elaborate construction of braids, jewels and pins. My face was still painted with rouge.
I was still a bride.
Cardan disappeared into a dressing room. When he emerged, he was wearing simple sleeping clothes, a loose tunic of dark silk, soft trousers. His feet were bare. His hair had fallen loose from its ceremonial style.
He looked younger like this. Softer.
He didn't look at me.
"The bed is large enough for both of us," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "You can sleep on the left side. I'll take the right."
I stared at him. "That's it?"
"What do you mean?"
"We're married. The court expects..”
"The court expects us to share a bed. We are sharing a bed." He pulled back the covers on his side. "Beyond that, I am not going to touch you. I am not going to pretend this is something it isn't."
"You could at least help me out of this dress."
He paused. Finally looked at me.
The wedding gown was impossibly intricate. The laces ran up the back, each one threaded through tiny rings. I had needed three handmaidens to get into it. I could not get out of it alone.
"I'll send for your attendants," he said.
"They've been dismissed for the night. It is our wedding night. No one expects the bride to need her handmaidens."
"Then I'll find a servant…”
"I don't want a servant." My voice cracked. I hated that it cracked. "I just, can you just…”
He crossed the room.
I turned, presenting my back to him. The laces were intricate, delicate. I felt his fingers brush against my spine as he studied them.
"I don't know how to undo this," he admitted.
"The top lace first. Then work your way down."
His fingers were clumsy at first. Then they found the rhythm. One by one, the laces loosened. The gown began to slip.
I held it to my chest, suddenly self-conscious. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I stepped into the dressing room and let the gown fall. In the mirror, I saw a woman I barely recognized, violet eyes rimmed with exhaustion, obsidian beads still woven through her hair, shadow-silk pooled at her feet like a dark sea.
I found a simple black nightgown in the wardrobe, someone had thought to transfer my things here, and slipped it on. The fabric was soft and familiar, a piece of Hel in this golden prison.
When I returned to the bedroom, Cardan was already in bed. His back was to me. The covers were pulled up to his shoulders.
I climbed in on my side. The mattress was hard, Aurelian beds were apparently designed for posture, not comfort. The sheets were cold. The space between us was a chasm.
I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.
This is my wedding night, I thought. I am a queen now. I am married. I should feel something.
I felt nothing. Nothing but a vast, hollow ache that spread from my chest to my fingertips.
Beside me, Cardan's breathing was steady and even. He was already asleep. Or pretending to be.
I didn't know which was worse.
The tears came slowly. One. Two. Sliding down my temples and into my hair. I didn't sob. I didn't make a sound. I just lay there, letting them fall, feeling the cold air of the bed and the cold silence of my husband and the cold, cold distance between who I was and who I had been.
I thought of Hel. Of the bone-spires and the violet sky. Of Vesper's chittering laughter. Of Maz's inappropriate jokes. Of Eris's steady, silent presence.
I thought of the obsidian pendant, still hanging around my neck. Three wishes. Three escapes.
Not yet, I told myself. Not yet.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep.