Many thanks to my advance readers and to user LaRascasse for their assistance with editing!
***
Amali was riding Tomfey across the wide mouth of the Aldis River as it poured over the rocks into the sea. Her gelding was swimming gracefully, head high, and her skirts trailed in the water behind her. Far away she saw something glinting and spurred him on, eager to see what it was. She stopped short when she beheld a figure in the foam where the freshwater bubbled into the briny sea. The man turned and it was her father, wearing a crown of wet kelp, flashing in the sun. "Father!" she called, and he smiled. "My dearest child," he answered, but said no more.
Amali awoke, a smile on her lips. The prince's arm was under her head, and she sat up to gaze at his sleeping face. In slumber he was so much less intense, the angles of his features soft and innocent. She held out a finger and traced the curve of his brow, his cheekbone.
The prince opened his eyes and smiled. "Admiring your betrothed, princess?"
"My father came to see me again," she told him.
He reached up and caressed her face. "Did he answer you this time?"
"Yes. He was in the Aldis, almost to the sea." She blinked. "Once he reaches the ocean, he'll be with my mother."
His fingers brushed at the tear that spilled onto her cheek. "Then why do you weep,
garadsash
?"
Amali frowned. "Once he returns to the sea... I won't see him any longer."
The prince furrowed his brows, brushing back a loose strand of her hair. "I'm sure you'll dream of him again."
She shook her head, unsure how to explain her inexplicable certainty. "But it won't really be him anymore, only my memories."
His mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. "Do all the women of your people dream so strangely, or is it just you,
garadsash
?"
Amali was silent for a time. "My mother had the dream-sight. It's said to pass from mother to daughter, but I never had such dreams before...." She shut her eyes and covered her mouth to stifle her sudden sobs.
The prince held her until her tears ran dry. "Only one more day, princess. Tomorrow we shall be crowned, and you will make Horan beg for mercy."
Amali clutched him tight. That was something to look forward to, at least, besides her wedding night. Her stomach fluttered as she remembered the prince's words, what he'd promised to do to her.
But first she had to get through her wedding.
"Get dressed," she said, pulling away from him, "or else Ismalia will have a fit."
He chuckled and did as she said, while she lay her head on her knees and watched him. His legs were long and strong, and she caught the barest hint of his buttocks as he brought up his trousers. He turned and saw her looking, and he grinned at her, tying his shirt laces slowly.
Now dressed, the prince walked over to the bed and leaned down to kiss her. Perhaps he'd meant it to be short, but she relished the taste of him, sucking on his tongue hungrily. He groaned in response and half-sat on the bed, thrusting his tongue deep in her mouth. Feeling bold, she reached out and traced her hand down his chest, reaching his groin. She could feel him grow hard under her palm, and she kneaded into him gently.
He came up for air and gripped her wrist, pulling her arm away. "You sly woman," he growled. "You deny me at night only to tempt me in the morning."
Amali blushed but met his eyes. "It's just a taste to last you the day," she said innocently.
He groaned and covered his face, then leaned down to murmur roughly in her ear. "You won't get away from me tonight,
garadsash
. I will make you mine."
With that the prince stalked out the room, frightening the serving-women as he wrenched the door open. Amali sat back, wondering what his guards must think, but she had no more time for wondering that morning. Ismalia and Gilda and a bevy of other serving-women were pouring into her chamber, bearing laden trays and awakening the fire and opening the curtains to let in the bright autumn light.
She had never thought there was so much to do for a wedding, but the whole morning her room was abuzz with activity. She was washed in rosewater, her hair anointed with delicate-smelling oil and then combed out, her nails dyed. Hanya arrived with the prince's other serving-women while her hands were indisposed, still soaking in the deep purple color. There was a moment of confusion as Hanya and Ismalia talked over each other, and then two of the imperial guards brought in one of the trunks from the prince's bride-gifts. A hush fell over the room as Hanya opened it to reveal Amali's wedding attire.
The candlelight in the prince's tent hadn't done justice to the gown. Amali gaped along with all the rest of the Berenulian women, beholding the masterpiece in broad daylight. It was the same gold as the royal family's color, tight-fitted in the top with a high collar, but at the waist the pleated skirt bloomed with blood-red embroidery in the pattern of feathered wings.
She had never felt so impatient to be dressed before, but her fingers needed drying and washing, to remove any unset dye. After this a light meal was set before her, which she ate as Gilda and Hanya debated how to do up her hair, landing on a seven-stranded braid with golden ribbons. This decided, it was time for her to don her wedding gown.
It was actually in two pieces, Amali discovered. The jacket was double-breasted and closed near her shoulder with cloth buttons, over which the skirt was laced up. At her waist, a double fan-shaped belt was tied to hide the discontinuity, and matching cuffs of cloth were laced about her upper arms and forearms. Up close, she realized that every edge of fabric was hemmed in alternating red-and-green thread, and green also graced the wide red hem of the skirt.
She continued admiring the dress as her hair was plaited and her face painted. Then came time for the jewelry. Tinkling moon-shaped gold earrings were hung from her earlobes, each with a bright red carnelian shimmering in the center, long trails of red coral beads reaching past her shoulders. Her wrists were bangled in gold encrusted with garnets, and last was the wedding crown. Hanya placed it atop her head, and she opened her eyes to see a simple gold circlet graced by a blood-red crescent moon, with more long strands of gold-and-red beads spilling down from her temples, swinging with every turn of her head.
Amali stared back at her reflection. Gone was the frightened princess who had left Juna in fear of her future. Here was a woman who would become queen tomorrow.
Hanya knelt before her and took her hands. "You are a glorious princess of Serutus," she said, then brought Amali's hands to her forehead. "May your radiance bless all who see you today."
Amali blushed, then realized something was missing. "The veil!" she cried, and Ismalia gasped.
Hanya looked confusedly at Gilda, and Amali felt a giggle escape her lips. The serving-women followed after her, and soon the atmosphere had broken into a chorus of laughter. Amali practiced walking in the matching embroidered slippers while a veil was procured. The lacy gold fabric was secured over her crown, and she had to practice walking once more with her vision half-obscured.
In the end it was agreed Ismalia would lead her to the throne room, where she would walk hand-in-hand with the prince. As the hour neared, Amali's stomach flip-flopped so strongly she worried she might retch, but Gilda assured her it was only her nerves.
Finally a knock came at the door and she rose, steadied by her serving-women. Through her veil she saw the imperial guards greet her formally, fists to their hearts. Then Ismalia was leading her by the arm, murmuring to her when to turn or lift her skirts, how many steps there were, until at last she was before the great doors of the throne room.
The prince's figure came into sight, and he bowed to her in the Taurian manner. She curtsied, stiff-backed for fear of loosening her heavy adornments. Amali reached out her hand and he held it firmly. For a moment she thought he had opened his mouth to say something, but just then the herald announced them.
The heavy doors swung open, and the prince led her down the hall toward the dais where her father's throne had been removed. In its place a low table had been set down, bearing three large bronze bowls. The prince guided her to kneel on the imperial-red pillow placed before the dais, then joined beside her. Amali clasped her hands together, praying that her father and mother were watching over her.
The ceremony was a mix of Serutusian and Taurian styles, led by her father's cousin, Lord Durim. First they each lit a stick of incense to call upon their ancestors, and then Lord Durim read out their vows. It was mostly familiar to her, with some phrases she supposed had been translated from Oghian. She dutifully repeated her lines, though the prince added some of his own about protecting and watching over her, and she remembered what he had said about the meaning of the word
garad
.
When the vows were completed, Lord Durim instructed them to wash each other's hands, to indicate they were starting a new life together. After this, they were to feed each other dried fruit, symbolizing longevity. Amali reached into the bowl Lord Durim held out for her, closing her fingers around a dried apricot. She blushed as she lifted it to the prince's lips, and the crowd murmured, for apricots represented abundance and fertility.
Then it was the prince's turn, and the crown murmured again. He slipped his hand under her veil, and she parted her lips, tasting a dried cherry. She chewed it with a smile, for cherries meant happiness and good fortune.
At last came the moment that made her stomach flutter. Lord Durim pronounced them husband and wife and bid the prince lift her veil to seal the ceremony with a kiss. He did so slowly, laying back the fabric over her braid. Then his eyes met hers and widened. He paused a moment, drinking in the sight of her, then leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips.
The assembled courtiers cheered politely as the prince took her hand and the both of them turned to face the crowded throne room. The lord chamberlain came and bowed to them, then led them to the great hall. It was decorated in the royal family's golden banners, interspersed with those of the imperial family of Serutus. The prince sat at her father's place at the high table, and she at his left, her customary seat.
The afternoon passed in a daze of heady music and rich dishes. Amali grazed over the sumptuous platters, feeling too nervous to eat much. Now and then the prince would whisper in her ear, but she shook her head each time, unable to hear him in the din of the loud hall. He would smile in return and stroke her cheek affectionately, which made her blush. She eyed the sun streaming low through the large windows of the hall, knowing that once it set, Lord Durim would take up the traditional toast.
The sun slipped under the window frames, and Amali's stomach tensed. Too soon, her father's cousin rose, and the room quieted. "To the bride and groom!" he called, and the feasting courtiers raised their goblets and shouted in return.
"To Princess Amali! To Prince Kirilos! To bed, to bed!"
The prince jerked his head to meet her gaze at this last line. "What do they mean, princess?"
She flushed, thinking someone would have explained the custom to him. "They mean to escort us to your bedchamber, husband, to see us readied for --"
He stood abruptly before she could finish, and the crowd's cheering petered out awkwardly. "I mean no disrespect to the traditions of Berenul," he said loudly, "but escorting us to bed is entirely unnecessary."
There were a few whispers and giggles at this pronouncement, but the court returned to feasting and the music took up again.
The prince drained his glass, and set it down on the table. "Let us go,
garadsa
," he said, and Amali stood, her stomach tight.
He led her by the hand down the aisle, and the courtiers called encouragement and good luck to her, making her cheeks burn. When they had exited the hall, they found Gilda and Morden waiting for them along with a manservant who bowed and led them to the royal bedchamber. Gilda made to follow them inside, but the prince waved her off. She gave Amali a small smile, then curtsied and took up a seat outside the door.
At last they were alone. Amali felt her shoulders tense, her stomach drop as though she were on the downswing of a great leap on her horse. The prince turned to her, grinning, and she felt her heart squeeze and her hands tremble.
"You are radiant,
garadsata
," he said, and she blushed under his gaze.
He was dressed in black boots, gold-cloth trousers, and a long overcoat in imperial red that resembled the jacket of her dress. It was embroidered in gold thread, the edges hemmed in gold-and-green. He pulled off his boots, and she did the same with her slippers, placing them by the bed.
Seeing the red-green-gold of them made her ask, "Do you mean to join our colors together, husband?"
"I do,
garadsata
."
"Then what about the green? It seems out of place."
"Green is the color of life, what every bride wears in my homeland."
