Damsel, page 6
But Henry and Elodie were much better suited. It was obvious even from the short time they’d known each other. He was attentive and gentle. He admired Elodie’s mind. And he liked that she could mount a horse without waiting for assistance. Not to mention he was lovely to look at.
She walked over to the edge of the battlements and gazed at the mountain that towered over the Isle of Aurea. “Have you ever been up there?”
“Once or twice.”
“I’ve never been on a mountain,” Elodie said. “The closest I’ve come are the plateaus in the Inophean desert, but those are really just hills with their heads shorn off. Will you take me up to Mount Khaevis, perhaps after our wedding?”
Henry hesitated before answering.
“Oh!” Elodie said. “I didn’t mean immediately after the wedding. I am sure you have plans already for, um—” She stopped herself before she began detailing what happens on a wedding night. Not that she was embarrassed. She was actually pleased she could arrive at her wedding bed armed with knowledge of how to make her husband beg for mercy, and how to teach him to do the same to her.
Still, it was a bit premature to discuss those details now.
“What I meant,” Elodie said, “is that I should like to go up Mount Khaevis with you in the future, whenever the occasion may arise. I’m curious, is all. I saw torches up there two nights ago, and—”
Henry inhaled sharply. “You saw that?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep, and they were hard to miss. What was it? Mountain carp fishing?”
He looked away from her and stared out at the jagged horizon that Mount Khaevis cut into the purple-gray sky. “No. It was a ceremony. Every September, we begin the harvest with a week of gratitude for all that we have. During that week, we offer three prayers: The first represents our appreciation of the past, of our history. The second ceremony is for our ongoing commitment to Aurea now. And the third prayer is for the renewal of the land, for the future. During this week, we give thanks for the blessed life here.” Henry shrugged and turned back to Elodie. “It’s old tradition. Superstition, really.”
“I don’t believe in superstition.”
“Well, good. Better to be grounded in reality, right?” He gave her one of his smiles, the kind that could melt solid gold to molten liquid. It warmed Elodie through her core.
“Gracious, Elodie, you are so beautiful beneath the moonlight, you almost made me forget.” In a single swift movement, Henry dropped to one knee.
“What—?” she started to say.
But she lost her words when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flat velvet box. Inside on a bed of silk lay a gold necklace with a pendant of the Aurean coat of arms: a dragon clutching a sheaf of wheat in one claw and sangberries in the other. The berries were made of rubies.
“Elodie,” Henry said. “I know our match was arranged, but even so, I want to ask you…Will you marry me?”
She gasped. Any nerves she’d felt when they stepped out onto this battlement now disappeared. And whatever questions she had going into this—about V or about what the peasant girl had said—could be dealt with later. Because this was how you married someone. This was how you fell in love. There would always be uncertainties, but you would face them together, two stronger than one. She didn’t have to do anything alone anymore.
Elodie had been using her head too much and ignoring her heart. Perhaps it was time for her to learn to let go of control, just a little.
On impulse, she flew into Henry’s arms, nearly knocking the necklace away, and kissed him.
He lost his balance, and they toppled onto the floor. She kissed him again.
And then she added, “I should clarify. My answer is yes.”
ISABELLE
After the dinner and proposal, Queen Isabelle found her son in his chambers. Instead of rejoicing, though, he stood gazing pensively out the window toward Mount Khaevis.
“You could choose her, you know,” the queen said.
Henry startled from his thoughts. “Choose her?”
“Elodie,” the queen said. “I saw how you read and reread all her letters. You are intrigued by her intelligence, her cleverness and wit. She could be the one you keep.”
“Mother—”
She shushed him by placing her hand on his. She was surprised to find it rather steady, when she’d thought him distraught. “Henry, you are a dutiful prince. When Jacob ran away from Aurea, you took on the role of heir to the throne without hesitation, and you have carried the burdens of prince of Aurea without complaint for so many years. But you deserve to be happy, as well.”
“That, I disagree with,” Henry said. “A future king does not think of his own happiness. The kingdom’s well-being must always take precedence.”
Queen Isabelle looked down at the golden tiles. If she could have, she would have borne more sons to share Henry’s burden. The king had had five younger brothers with whom to divide the heaviest of duties, and still, Rodrick had crumbled under the weight of obligation.
But unfortunately, Isabelle had been unable to give Jacob and Henry more brothers. The king rarely visited her bed. Not because Rodrick had mistresses—he didn’t—but because he spent most of his time in solitude. Days were easier for Rodrick in the warmth of his solarium or in the company of his dogs that demanded nothing of him, unlike people.
Still, such demands would be made upon Henry, for although Isabelle ostensibly ran the kingdom, she and Rodrick would abdicate in Henry’s favor, once Henry decided to marry for good.
“If I cannot convince you to seize your own happiness,” she said, “then I can at least remind you that it is also your duty to produce heirs. That is how we ensure a lineage that will honor the traditions of Aurea. Elodie would not be a bad choice.”
Henry closed his eyes, and now there was a trace of the conflict the queen thought she’d spied in him when she first walked into his chambers.
“If you had talked to me yesterday,” Henry said, “I’d have agreed that Elodie could be the one. But today in the fields, she kept asking question after question. And she intervened on behalf of a peasant girl…No. Elodie has too many ideas of her own. She would fight too hard against customs that cannot be changed. That is why she cannot be the one I choose.”
The queen bit her lip. The yoke of Aurea’s traditions required a strong woman as queen once Isabelle grew too old to reign. She had thought Elodie a good candidate. But Henry’s logic also made sense, so she just kissed her son gently on the cheek.
“Then I shall see you tomorrow at the wedding, as planned?” she asked Henry.
He nodded. “As planned.”
The queen took her leave, but glanced over her shoulder one more time at Henry. He was again peering out at Mount Khaevis, but there was no hint of wariness now, only upright, military posture.
As she closed the door behind her, Queen Isabelle wondered when he’d changed so, when he’d hardened into a version of herself—charisma on the outside, but cold granite within.
And she lamented how she hadn’t noticed when Aurea stole the last scraps of her once-innocent son’s soul. She would have liked to kiss him goodbye.
ELODIE
Elodie couldn’t stop smiling as she and Floria sat at the vanity in the tower top room. Elodie had returned from her walk on the battlements glowing, and not only because her new necklace shined like a beacon of its own.
Flor ran a gold comb through Elodie’s silken hair. “I am so, so happy for you!”
“I can hardly believe it,” Elodie said.
“Believe it. You are good and kind, smarter than anyone I know, and you’ve always taken care of me. I look up to you in more ways than you know, El. And if anyone deserves this kind of happily ever after, it’s you.”
Elodie looked down, almost shy for a moment. “Thank you, Flor. That means a lot to me…I’m going to miss you so much when you’re gone.”
“Let’s not think about our imminent parting,” Floria said. “I don’t want to be sad. Let’s think about tomorrow night’s wedding instead.”
Elodie swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as her sister ran the comb through her hair one last time. Then Floria picked up the necklace from the vanity and held it up in front of Elodie. The Aurean coat of arms caught the candlelight, the dragon glimmering as if it was alive.
Flor sighed dreamily. “Henry showers you in such riches.”
Lady Bayford suddenly stormed into the room, her reflection appearing in the mirror. “You would look better in emeralds,” she snapped at Elodie.
Floria startled at their stepmother’s sudden presence, and she dropped the necklace onto the vanity before scooping it up again and sending a daggered glare at Lady Bayford. “What has gotten into you, Stepmother?”
“I came to tell you—” Lady Bayford stopped short as she looked at Floria. “I—I must speak to Elodie alone.”
Elodie frowned. Lady Bayford looked…odd. She was usually well put together. Now, however, her normally tidy bun drooped, locks of dark hair frizzing out every which way. The top button of her high-necked gown was undone, as if she’d torn at it in frustration. And she kept clenching and unclenching her fists, grabbing handfuls of her skirts each time.
“I have no secrets from Floria,” Elodie said. “Anything you wish to say to me, you can also say to her.”
Lady Bayford looked out the tower window, toward the mountain, as if she could somehow find an answer to her predicament out there. When she turned back to Elodie and Floria, she spoke with her hands pressed firmly to her sides. “This place. It isn’t…”
Her gaze flitted back to the window. “This match will not last. Save yourself—no, save your father the dishonor. Say you will not go through with the wedding.”
Elodie, who was rarely without words, could only stare with jaw hanging open at Lady Bayford.
But Floria had plenty of words for their stepmother. “Why are you saying this? Why are you trying to take this away from Elodie?”
Lady Bayford ignored her and grabbed Elodie’s hands. “You’re not listening. I’m trying to tell you—”
“My girls!” Father boomed, strolling into the room as if this were a joyous family reunion rather than an incomprehensible scene of a stepmother trying to stop the most fortuitous marriage ever made. “Is everyone ready for the big day?”
Lady Bayford shot him an icy scowl before whirling on her heel and marching out of the room.
Father laughed oddly. “Don’t mind her. The royal physician gave her something for the lingering seasickness, and it’s making her…irrationally anxious. Anything she said, disregard. All is well!”
Then, without another word to Floria and Elodie, he hurried after her.
Floria gawked after them. “What just happened?”
Elodie shook her head sadly. “This wasn’t Stepmother’s idea, so she doesn’t like it. She always needs to be in control of what you and I do. But I’m a grown woman, and she doesn’t get to make my choices anymore. I get to choose, and I am going to marry Henry, if it’s the last thing I do.”
ELODIE
Somehow, the gold castle of Aurea shone even brighter on Elodie’s wedding night. It was as if the servants had spent the entire day polishing every wall, every floor, even every roof tile, to make it gleam beneath the moonlight as it did. Outside, the indigo sky was cloudless, and an orchestra practiced in the royal gardens. The anticipation made it impossible for Elodie to eat. Only when she almost fainted putting on her wedding gown did she finally accept a few bites of the roll Floria shoved in her face.
But oh, the wedding dress! It was a marvel of elegance, just as her sister had imagined, and Elodie was glad to have caved to Floria’s exhortations. Heavy cream-colored silk fell like a waterfall from Elodie’s shoulders all the way down to her legs. Crimson and gold embroidery—the colors of Aurea—trimmed the edges of the fabric, following her neckline, down the folds of silk across her torso, and along the hem of the long train that trailed behind her. She wore Henry’s gifts—the pair of gold combs in her hair and the ruby-and-gold necklace with the coat of arms resting at the base of her throat—and Elodie knew without a doubt that she’d made the right choice in accepting a proposal that would not only bind her to Aurea, but would also provide for Inophe from now on.
All evening, wedding guests had arrived like waves washing ashore, coming as early as was polite to maximize their time with the king, queen, and Henry. Now, however, they were all seated on the palace’s rooftop terrace, the platinum light of the moon casting everything in a magical, celestial glow.
Trumpets sounded, and the orchestra began a lilting bridal procession. In Inophe, brides walked themselves to the altar, but in Aurea, the tradition was that the father led the bride there.
Elodie’s father came up beside her, regal in his best jerkin, tears already filling his eyes. Tonight he was not the duke of Inophe; he was simply a man looking at his daughter and seeing all the years of her childhood flash before him, knowing that this was the moment he would have to let her go.
“I love you, Elodie. Always remember that.”
“I love you, too, Father. But don’t cry. It’s not as if we’ll never see each other again. I shall visit, I promise.”
He squeezed his eyes tight, the tears spilling over. But then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped them away. He offered Elodie his arm. “Ready?”
“I am always ready.” She kissed him on the cheek, then slipped her arm through his.
The music of violins and cellos soared as they took their first steps down the aisle. All around them, the guests turned to watch her approach, and they bowed their heads in respect as she walked past. The only ones who didn’t dip their heads were Floria and Lady Bayford, sitting in the front row. Floria was bouncing in her seat, grinning and mouthing You look beautiful to Elodie. Lady Bayford sat rigid with pursed lips, hands balled into fists in her lap, shaking her head as Elodie took her last steps to the altar.
Henry stood waiting for her under a golden pavilion. The king and queen sat in thrones behind him. Queen Isabelle looked resplendent in a gown of gold velvet and matching cape. King Rodrick seemed…well, he looked the part of the king, dressed in gold brocade and fur-lined robes, but he stared off into the distance as if his mind were elsewhere.
Nevertheless, Elodie’s father bowed deeply to King Rodrick and Queen Isabelle, while Elodie curtsied with her arm still linked in his.
“Your Majesties,” they said in unison.
When Elodie rose, Henry’s radiant smile greeted her. She smiled back at him, holding her breath for what was about to come.
“Your Highness,” her father said. “It is the greatest honor of my life to present you with my daughter, Elodie Bayford of Inophe. May she bring many blessings upon the royal family and all of Aurea.”
He unhooked Elodie’s arm from his and placed her hand on Henry’s, before bowing again and taking his leave to join Floria and Lady Bayford in their seats.
“You look ravishing,” Henry said to Elodie.
“You don’t look too awful yourself.”
He laughed and twined his fingers through hers.
A priestess in crimson velvet robes stepped forward. Tattoos of dragons covered every visible part of her skin, from her cheeks to her throat to her knuckles and fingertips. Her curly gray hair tumbled down far past her waist, where the ends were woven with rubies and gold. A heavy medallion bearing the Aurean crest hung in the middle of her chest, and it swung like a pendulum as she approached Elodie and Henry.
“Tonight we celebrate the union of two luminous souls,” she began, her sonorous voice carrying across the terrace. “This wedding joins not only our beloved prince with his bride, but also marks the beginning of a new season for Aurea and Inophe. Our kingdoms are grateful for their commitments and gifts to each other. They are…”
Elodie found it difficult to listen. Instead, she lost herself in Henry’s handsome face. She pictured what their lives would be like—diplomatic trips abroad, horseback rides up the mountain switchbacks at home, and sultry nights wherever they were in the world, tangled together beneath silk sheets. There would be trade talks together, discussions on how best to rule, alliances built with Inophe and more. And later, they would have children—sons, Elodie supposed, because that is what the Aurean royal family had always borne. Or perhaps she would be the first to break the mold and give the kingdom its first daughters. Elodie smiled at the thought.
“Do you, Elodie of Inophe, swear an oath to give yourself, body and soul, to Aurea and all that it requires of you?” the priestess asked.
Elodie brought her focus back to the ceremony before her. “I swear it,” she said, standing tall and proud.
The priestess touched her tattooed hand to her medallion, as if committing the promise to the Aurean crest. Then she turned to Henry.
“Henry of Aurea, will you take this woman as your wife for as long as she shall live?” the priestess asked.
“I do,” Henry said.
“And Elodie, will you take this man as your husband for as long as you shall live?”
“I do,” Elodie said, before realizing that the vows were slightly different for her and Henry. They were both contingent on her lifespan, not his.
Maybe it was because women often died in childbirth, so it was presumed that the husband would outlive her? But what about men dying in wars…? Then again, given Aurea’s geographic isolation and diplomatic aloofness, the kingdom was never drawn into wars. Aurea had been at peace for eight centuries.
But Elodie had already said yes. And no matter what, she would not renege, not when all of Inophe’s future was at stake. Henry squeezed her hand.
