The Consort, Chapter 4
A minor war was waged in the halls of Central City Spire Palace, primary residence of the Royal House of Gale, over whether to actually invite people to the rehearsal for this, the Wedding of the Century, as the journalists insisted on referring to it. The Queen and Ahamo maintained that various officials and courtiers and distant relations would be offended if they were not invited to the rehearsal, while DG thought that it was ridiculous to invite people to a rehearsal, and would rather stumble through the practice ceremony in the imposing Great Hall without people watching. DG won out, with Cain enthusiastically on her side, so the rehearsal was attended only by the people participating.
The tradeoff was the post-rehearsal dinner, which would be a royal shindig of epic proportions, as Glitch put it.
DG had been relieved to find that the ceremony bore some resemblance to weddings she’d attended back home, with a little extra pomp and circumstance and a lot less emphasis on romance, which was frankly a relief. The vows were less flowery, and there was no custom of kissing the bride afterward. The fact that this was a royal wedding (and how she’d come to loathe that phrase) meant that the pomp had been dialed up even further and the romance de-emphasized even more. Ironically, if she needed practice at anything it was walking gracefully in her gown, which was the one aspect of the ceremony that this rehearsal was not covering.
She walked down the aisle once the seemingly-endless procession of ladies-in-waiting had gone up ahead of her, making the most of their jobs. As she neared the front, she kept her eyes on her feet. She was wearing the shoes that went with her gown; if she couldn’t wear the gown itself at least she’d get used to walking on heels that added three inches to her height. Happily, her footwear preoccupation gave her a reason not to look at her groom, who stood at the front waiting for her.
In fact, she managed not to look at him once while she extended her hand to him, while they faced the Chief Adjudicator of the OZian High Court together, flanked by Azkadellia and Ambrose, while they ran through the beats of the ceremony and listened to their officiant’s instructions. It wasn’t until they were turning around to walk back out and Cain offered her his elbow that she looked up at him, more out of reflex than anything else. His eyes, which were so blue that sometimes she could swear they glowed, were mirrors to her own as she saw there the same apprehension and nervousness she felt herself. She smiled at him, relieved to find something they could share. She took his arm and they walked out together.
“Wasn’t so hard,” he muttered.
“It’ll be a little different tomorrow when there are a thousand people here, not to mention most of the O.Z. watching the broadcast.”
“Shush,” he said. “I’ve got a nice little calm going here, don’t ruin it.”
DG giggled as they exited the dining hall. “Do you know the judge asked me if we were writing our own vows?”
Cain looked just as stricken at the idea as she’d been. “Oh God, can you imagine?”
“I know. I told him I’d rather recite Whitesnake lyrics.” He was smiling at her, and DG realized that this felt normal, for the first time since he’d put that ring on her finger. “Cain, I…”
He held up a hand. “DG, you don’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Don’t you think the time for us to agonize over this is past?”
She sighed. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be past for me.”
He faced her and took both her hands in his. “We’re doing this. It’s for real. No matter the reasons, or how we got here, or how awkward it’s been…don’t look at me like that, I’ve felt it, too…we’re doing this. We have to move forward. We have to try and be ourselves. I just want us to be like we were.”
She nodded, squeezing his hands. “Me, too.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get ourselves through this dinner thing, get some sleep, and survive tomorrow.”
“I like this plan.”
“Good.” He hesitated, still hanging on to her hands, his eyes scanning her face. He bent and kissed her cheek, DG meeting him halfway. They’d been trying to acclimate to some casual displays of intimacy of the sort that might be expected of them by the people. Until now such attempts had been excruciatingly uncomfortable, but this…this felt all right. It felt normal. He drew back and smiled again, then released her hands and offered her his elbow. “Shall we?”
“Az.”
Azkadellia turned from corralling the unruly ladies-in-waiting. “What is it, DG?”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re not, you’re fine.”
“I’m serious, Az. Projectile vomit is in my near future.”
“Take deep breaths. Do you want some water?”
“You got any whiskey?”
Azkadellia joined DG in front of the mirror and met her eyes in the glass. “You look so beautiful, DG.”
It wasn’t bad, DG had to admit. Then again, compared to some of the satin-and-tulle ruffled and hoopskirted monstrosities her mother had favored, just about anything would have looked restrained and elegant. To prevent the Queen from intimidating the seamstresses into adding some flounces and bows, DG had resorted to quite literally standing over them while they sewed her dress, a loosely-fitted sheath with cap sleeves in a muted bone color. She was obligated by protocol to wear the jeweled diadem that came with her rank, and its ostentatiousness made her want to wear nothing more extravagant than a potato sack to counterbalance it, but this gown was about as simple as she could get away with. Still, her satisfaction with her dress didn’t mean she was peaceful and content with what she was about to do. “I keep waiting for somebody to run in and tell me it’s all been a terrible joke and everything’s off,” she said, turning her head this way and that while the diadem shot flashes of light into her eyes, reflected from the nearby window.
Az put her hands on her shapely hips. “Six weeks I’ve been listening to this,” she said, her brow furrowing. “This may not be the wedding you thought you’d have, but come on, DG. You’re marrying one of your best friends, and he’s good-hearted and kind under that grumpy Tin Man exterior. He’s not bad to look at, either.” She looked right into DG’s eyes. “He will never break your heart.”
DG sighed. “No, he won’t break my heart. He can’t. No one ever will, Az. You have to give somebody your heart before they can break it. I’ll never get that chance. Looks like I’ll be keeping my heart just for my own self.”
Azkadellia was silent for a moment. “There are worse things,” she said, quietly.
DG nodded. “Tell me I’m not making a terrible mistake.”
“You’re not.” Az’s eyes were looking into DG’s with sudden intensity. “Tell me you don’t hate me for abdicating and forcing you into this.”
“Az, no!” DG exclaimed, taken aback. She’d never known her sister feared such a thing. “It’s my fault you had to abdicate! If I hadn’t…you know…we’d have grown up together and you would have been strong and beloved and you’d take the throne with confidence and I’d just be jealous of how fabulous you were.”
Az sighed. “You’re stronger than I could ever have been, DG.” She met DG’s eyes. “I love you.”
DG felt her eyes misting over. She reached out and hugged her sister tightly, unmindful of their gowns. “I love you too, Az.”
“I know you’re anxious. I understand why. But for the record? I think Wyatt is wonderful.”
DG picked at her bouquet, feeling a little shy about that. “He’ll do.”
Azkadellia nodded. “Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Ambrose came back into the salon, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Cain, he isn’t here.”
Cain’s heart sank. He’d really hoped Jeb would surprise him and show up. He didn’t ask for his son’s approval, or even his blessing. He’d be satisfied just to have his presence. “Well…I guess he couldn’t get away,” he said.
Ambrose put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’d be here if he could.”
“I’m not so sure. But it’d be nice to think so.” He straightened up and adjusted his tie. “Time?”
“Ten minutes to go.”
Cain nodded. “I hope DG’s okay,” he murmured.
“How are you?”
“I just want to get this over with.”
“You and me both. The minute this is done with, I’ve got her coronation to plan.”
Cain shuffled his feet, hands in his pockets, walking in aimless little circles. “How much time do you think we’ll have before everyone starts expecting a baby?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Ambrose sighed. “I don’t think you should worry about that just now.”
He kept his eyes averted. “You know that we don’t plan to…well, we won’t be, uh…that is, our rooms are…and…”
“I know,” Ambrose said, sparing Cain the explication. “Look, this is really simple. When DG is ready…when you both are, that is…we’ll have the doctors monitor her, and they can tell you exactly when you’ll need to, uh…shall we say, perform?”
Cain groaned. “Not the word I’d choose, Glitch.”
“Sorry. This isn’t exactly a conversation I’ve ever had before.”
“Go on.”
“I know you’re both nervous about this so we’ll do what we can so that she can have a baby while minimizing your, uh…contact.”
Cain stared off into the distance. “I don’t know if DG even wants kids. If she’d want them if she weren’t Queen, that is.”
“Oh, she does. She’s mentioned that to me before. I don’t know if she’d have wanted them this soon, though.”
“Well, there’s no rush. We can wait as long as she likes.”
“I don’t know about that. There is a bit of a rush, actually. A ruler without an heir is vulnerable.”
“What, so in case she’s assassinated or something there’ll be someone to inherit her title?” Cain said, his face reddening.
“Something like that.”
“That won’t happen. Not on my watch. And starting today, it’s always my watch.”
There was a knock at the door. Cain’s heart leapt into his throat. “Must be that time,” Ambrose said, going to open it.
But it wasn’t a courtier who entered, it was Jeb. Cain’s heart gave another lurch at the sight of him, dressed in his formal uniform, as Cain himself was. “Hey, Dad,” Jeb said. “Sorry for cutting it so close.”
Cain broke into a grin that felt too large for his face. He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped Jeb up in a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you came, son,” he said.
“I had to,” Jeb said, drawing back. “My father’s getting married. It’s important.” He looked down. “Mom would have wanted me to be here for you.”
Cain sighed, keeping his hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “Son…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I loved your mother. I always will.”
“It’s okay,” Jeb said, cutting him off. “She’s gone. She’d want you to be happy.”
“What I’m doing today isn’t about my happiness, or about love.”
Jeb’s eyes scanned Cain’s face. “If you say so.”
Cain held Jeb’s gaze for a long moment. “Hey,” he said, inspiration striking. “You should stand up with me.”
“Oh, Dad, I don’t know…”
“There’s no one I’d rather have.” He looked over at Ambrose, feeling a little guilty. Ambrose was his closest friend, but Jeb was his son. “Ambrose…”
“Say no more,” Ambrose said, fishing in his pocket for the ring. He handed it to Jeb. “It’s only right, Wyatt.”
“But I want you up there, too.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” He smirked, seeing Cain’s glare. “You better get used to it. That title will be yours for real in about half an hour.”
DG stood stock still behind the closed doors to the Hall while attendants flitted about her like hummingbirds, adjusting her veil (which did not cover her face, at her insistence…she’d be going into matrimony with her vision unimpeded, thank you very much) and straightening her train. The train was her one concession to her mother’s wishes, on the condition that it could be done away with after the ceremony. It wasn’t terribly long, but she was still petrified she’d get tangled up in it and go ass over teakettle in the middle of her supposedly-regal stroll up the aisle.
Her parents hovered nearby, the Queen in her carved wooden wheelchair, waiting to be escorted to their seats in the front row. She barely heard their exclamations (you-look-beautiful we’re-so-proud we’ll-be-right-up-front you’re-radiant take-deep-breaths you’re-such-a-lovely-bride) as she was focusing on not passing out. She managed to nod and smile and accept their kisses and embraces, and breathed a sigh of relief as Ambrose escorted them to the front of the Hall, leaving her alone with Azkadellia.
“You’re doing great,” Az murmured in her ear, leaning in to straighten something on her dress.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” she muttered back.
“You’ve faced far scarier things than this, DG.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
The music changed. Azkadellia’s cue. DG met her sister’s eyes, trying to keep back her panic. Az gripped her hand tightly. “Remember who you are,” she said. “You’re going to be the Queen.”
DG nodded. “Thanks, Az.”
Azkadellia released her hand and walked through the doors. DG watched the long white silk runner at her feet, spread before her like a trail to lead her where she was supposed to go.
She heard her cue. She blinked, and her feet started moving after a brief moment when she thought they might just sit there beneath her and refuse to carry her forward. She passed into the Hall and the weight of a thousand pairs of eyes slammed into her like a bucketload of sand, tickling her skin and lodging in every crevasse.
I can do this. I can do this.
Oh crap. This is it. This is marriage. I’m getting married. I’m about to say “I do” and all that shit.
Married. I’m getting married.
I’m not remotely ready for this.
She felt herself falter slightly, although no one else would have seen it. Her eyes searched the front of the Hall for a touchstone, and they found it when she saw Cain standing at the end of that long white trail, waiting for her. He was smiling, and watching her progress.
I can do this. I can do this. It’s my duty. I can do it for my kingdom.
I can do it because he’s with me.
He looked so handsome, too, in his dark blue formal uniform, a broad red sash across his chest, heavy with medals bestowed on him by the Queen, the commander, the provincial governors. A sword hung from his belt, the badge of his rank as a Knight Protector of the Zone, bestowed on him by the Queen over a year ago.
DG saw who was standing next to him and couldn’t help but smile. She’d known how much Cain had wanted his son to be here, but he’d all but given up hope of it happening.
By the time she reached him, DG felt okay, and the smile she wore was genuine. Cain stepped forward, reaching out for her hand. She took it.
“Hey there, princess,” he whispered under his breath as they continued forward together, just a few more steps and up three stairs to stand before the judge who’d seal this deal.
She met his eyes and tried to see in him the partner of her life, the man she’d chosen to be her companion until death separated them. In an ideal world, she would have seen in him the man she loved, but she didn’t live in an ideal world. Even so, at that moment, it was enough just to see him, her friend, now her consort, always her Tin Man.