As the seamstress holds the sheer fabric out to me for my appraisal, I rub the material between my thumb and forefinger, studying it in confusion. “What is the purpose of this fabric?” I ask. “It does not conceal anything.”
Ruvaen’s brow is furrowed as well. I am certain my question echoes his thoughts.
The seamstress ducks her head. “It is the covering you will both wear when you are presented to one another on the wedding night.” She pauses. “The princess will wait for you in the bedchamber. Several witnesses will be present to make certain the marriage is consummated—”
“Witnesses?” I blurt, completely aghast. “On our wedding night?”
She nods. “It is tradition, my lord.”
“Absolutely not. I will not claim my wife in front of a room full of strangers. A wedding night is private, meant only to be shared between the couple.” My head whips toward Ruvaen. “I must speak with the king.”
Ruvaen’s eyes flash with worry. “Perhaps you should reconsider, my prince. This is a human tradition, after all. Do we not expect the princess to honor our Elven bonding traditions when she goes with you to Rivenyl?”
I turn my gaze to the mirror as I consider his words. My cheeks and the tips of my ears are tinged a light green as anger twists my gut. I understand his point, but cannot ignore my instincts. I will not allow strangers to gaze upon my bride’s naked body, and I will certainly not have them present for the consummation of our bond. I cannot believe these humans adhere to such a barbaric practice.
Drawing in a deep breath, I realize that Ruvaen is right. I cannot barge into the throne room and start making demands concerning the kingdom’s traditions. What I can do, however, is speak with my bride and seek her thoughts on this custom. If she wishes for witnesses to be present, I will comply, but if she feels this must be done for tradition’s sake, I will refuse to participate.
As the sun begins to set, I step out onto the balcony and contemplate my future. The end of the day is always a somber, reflective time for me, perhaps because that was the time my brother and I would lounge in the gardens at home and chat.
Dhurvaen had so many plans for his life. He was a noble man and would have made an even greater king. He was strong and brave, one of the fiercest warriors among us. He was always discussing our future and the bright path we would forge for our kingdom. Whereas I always knew that I would be his right hand, his brother, and his counsel.
I direct a heavy sigh at the gardens and the forest beyond the wall. It was a beautiful dream, and I will forever regret it cannot come to pass. He was the better man, and I fear that I may never fill the void left behind by his passing.
Footsteps behind me draw my attention. Without turning, I recognize Ruvaen by the cadence of his tread along the stone balcony. “Are you well, my prince?”
With another sigh, I nod. “As well as I can be, Ruvaen.” I turn to him. “I feel as if I am doing what Dhurvaen would have done, but I cannot be certain if it is the right course for our people.”
He cocks his head to the side. “You make a sacrifice for your kingdom—a selfless one, my prince. One that I am not sure even your brother would have made.” He arches a brow. “You know how he felt about humans.”
A grin twists my lips. He is right, I suppose. Dhurvaen would not have agreed to marry a human—even for the good of our people.
I nod in agreement. “He has not even been gone a year. Sometimes, I believe I remember him through a lens of my own making.”
Ruvaen rests a hand on my shoulder. “I think everyone does when they lose someone, Caelen.”
He is free to use my given name. Ruvaen practically raised the three of us—my brother, my younger sister, Nurala, and me. He was our mentor and guardian since we were children.
“Our parents were wise to choose you as our teacher, Ruvaen.”
He inclines his head. “I feel blessed to have had a hand in your education. All three of you grew into leaders anyone would be willing to follow.”
Heaving a sigh, I lower my gaze. “The people wanted Dhurvaen. I am a poor substitute.”
“Do not be so hard on yourself, Caelen. You are a good man.” He gestures to the castle around us. “You have already chosen a path of sacrifice for the welfare of your people.” He gives me a hesitant look. “There is something I must say to you.”
Something about his tone concerns me. “What is it?”
“I worry that you compare yourself too often to your brother. That you try to live up to a standard you believe he would have set. But the two of you were always so very different, Caelen. Your brother’s kingdom would have been one of war, but yours will be one of peace. Both approaches make for a strong kingdom, but only one has the potential to spare countless lives.” He pauses. “I cared for your brother as if he were my own child, just as I do you and your sister. I miss him every day. But I beg you… do not try to be who you suppose he would have been. You will be a great ruler. Of this, I have no doubt.”
His words touch me. Deeply. I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Ruvaen.”
He dips his chin in a subtle nod. “I am off to bed. We have a long, important day ahead of us, my prince.”
My expression falls at the reminder, as the image of Lyana crying last night fills my mind. I must find a way to show her that she need never fear me.
“Yes, we do.”
After Ruvaen leaves, I turn my attention back to the gardens. Movement in the shadows below catches my eye. I recognize Prince Fredrik immediately but am surprised to see the queen approach him.
His family rules the neighboring kingdom of Winterhold. I suppose it is only natural he would have come to present himself for the princess’s hand to forge an alliance between their kingdoms.
I do not understand, however, why he is alone with the queen right now.
He drops to one knee and takes the queen’s hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles before rising again. I train my ears toward them, eavesdropping.
“What must I do to convince her to choose me?” he asks. “You were so certain that the princess would accept me, but you were wrong.”
“I did not anticipate the Prince of Rivenyl would offer his hand.”
Fredrik shakes his head. “But surely marriage to me would be better for the kingdom. Eryadon could use our strength to fight the High Elves and protect your borders.”
“I already tried to persuade her and the king,” she replies. “It was of no use. But perhaps we could alter our strategy.”
“What would you suggest?”
Deafening thunder booms overhead before she can answer.
The wind begins to howl around the castle, and the air is heavy with moisture, promising rain. I lift my gaze to the sky and the dark clouds roiling above. Lightning arcs through the clouds in a brilliant display.
I do not know if the old gods still linger in these lands, but I will take the impending storm as a sign of their blessing. Showers on the day of bonding are the gods raining down their blessings from above.
When I scan the gardens again, the queen and Prince Fredrik are gone. The humans do not realize how sharp Elvish hearing is. I overheard the queen trying to pressure the princess and the king into accepting Fredrik’s hand when we first arrived.
It seems the queen has not given up on this idea just yet, despite our impending ceremony. Now, I find myself wondering if there will still be a wedding tomorrow.
