“So we have two from Corrado’s family, and five from yours,” Lara said.
“Oh, I am certain my sisters will want to bring all their children, and I cannot avoid the laws of hospitality. And Magnus will have some he wishes to honor by asking them to the wedding,” Sirvat said. “It will be far more than I would have.”
“Then say no,” Lara told her. “Tell your mother and your sisters that they are welcome along with your two brothers-in-law, but no more. Tell Magnus that those he wishes to honor may be honored when we wed. Tell your brother that you want a small and intimate wedding. You are the Dominus’s youngest sister. There is no cause for great festivities unless you desire them, Sirvat. It is your wedding.”
A look of joy came over Sirvat’s face. “You are right, Lara,” she said. “I want a small wedding, and by the Great Creator I shall have one!”
The Dominus saw no fault in his sister’s wishes. The wedding would be discreet. Sirvat chose the gardens overlooking the fjord for the ceremony. It was late summer, and the flowers were in full bloom. Consulted, Corrado agreed with his beloved’s plans. The High Priest was sent for as was the lady Persis, and Sirvat’s two older sisters and their husbands. Their offspring, the Dominus ordered them, were to stay at home. Corrado’s elderly father, Dima, and his oldest son, Ing, lived at the foot of the castle cliff above the chandler’s shop. Their journey was one of minutes.
The night before the wedding all the guests had been assembled, and a feast was set before them. The Dominus’s mother was everything Sirvat had said. Tall and still beautiful, with snow-white hair and cold blue eyes, she went to sit at her son’s right hand, but Magnus warned her away.
“This place belongs to my sister, the bride,” he told his mother.
“Then I will sit on your left,” the lady Persis said.
“That is Lara’s place,” the Dominus replied.
“Nay, my lord Dominus,” Lara quickly said. “I am content to defer to your mother this night,” and she moved down the high board to the end seat.
“Well, at least the wench has manners,” Lady Persis grudgingly said as she took her seat on her son’s left.
“When you come to my wedding, madam, Lara will be seated to my right,” the Dominus said with emphasis.
His mother paled. “That is the bride’s place,” she replied weakly.
“Yes,” he said. “Lara is to be my wife.”
Lady Persis’s mouth fell open with both surprise and shock. “You cannot!” she snapped at her son. “A foreigner? A Hetarian? Half mortal, half faerie? Have you lost what few wits you had? Your father would be horrified. If you wish to marry I can bring you half a dozen Terahn girls of good family who would make you an excellent Domina.”
“Madam,” he said low, but his voice was edged with anger, “if I wanted, if I had fallen in love before this, I should have taken a wife. I have not because there was never any woman who suited me. It is time this family’s bloodlines were freshened. But more important, madam, I love her. I had to beg her to wed me for she is widowed, and was not of a mind to marry again. But I knew she was the one from the moment we met. It has taken me weeks to convince her to change her mind. Do not interfere, I warn you.”
“Do not interfere, or what?” his mother challenged him.
The Dominus laughed. “Or I shall turn Lara loose on you, madam,” he said. “She does not take kindly to interference.”
“She has bewitched you!” his mother half cried, and heads around them turned to see what the commotion was all about.
Again Magnus laughed. “I suppose she has, but not in the way you believe.”
“What more can you want of her? She is already in your bed,” the Lady Persis said venomously.
“Her intellect is superior to any little Terahn girl you would bring me. Her counsel is invaluable. She is wise beyond her years, madam. Times are changing, and we need to look at the world around us with new eyes. And I love her,” he repeated.
“Terah will never accept her,” Lady Persis declared.
“Never accept the woman who freed us from Usi’s curse? I think you are mistaken, madam. Although frankly I would have been glad to remain deaf to your voice. My only consolation, madam, is that you will shortly return home with Narda, and I will not have to listen to you.” Then the Dominus turned to his other guests, leaving his mother openmouthed in her astonishment.
Lara had seen the byplay between Magnus and his mother. That she was the cause of their conversation she did not doubt. The Lady Persis did not like her, but it mattered not. Lara would marry Magnus Hauk because he could aid her in gaining her destiny. And perhaps, just perhaps, her heart was softening toward him. She had never considered when she was a barefooted mercenary’s child back in the Quarter that she would one day be the wife of a powerful ruler. It was not a bad fate, Lara thought, but there was more to her destiny than just saving the clan families of the Outlands. That much she sensed. But what was it? And would Magnus Hauk play a strong part in what was to come? She could not love him with her whole heart if he was to be torn from her as Vartan had been. She could not lose another child to this destiny that never seemed to come to an end. Instinctively her hand reached for the crystal star about her neck, and she felt the comforting warmth of the flame within it.
Chapter 11
SIRVAT AND CORRADO’S wedding day dawned with a glorious sunrise. The few guests invited to the quiet affair joined the couple to watch it. As she stood with Magnus, his arm about her waist, Lara thought that there had never been so beautiful a morning. The cloudless blue sky was slowly stained with vibrant colors; at first delicate pinks and mauves and palest greens that gave way to the more flamboyant golds, oranges and reds as the scarlet sphere finally crept above the green horizon, its brilliant rays spreading across the firmament.
When the sun was well up the guests escorted the bride and groom into the baths, where Sirvat and Corrado were stripped of their clothing, their bodies displayed to show both were healthy and fit to wed one another. Then before the eyes of their guests the couple were thoroughly bathed before being dressed in their wedding garments. They had chosen to wear traditional Terahn wedding clothing.
Sirvat wore a long simple sleeveless gown of cream-colored silk. The neckline was draped, resting on her collarbone. The straight skirt was a mass of narrow little pleats, and about her waist Sirvat wore a delicate gold chain. Her hair was dressed in thin braids entwined with slender bejeweled golden ribbons. She wore golden sandals on her feet. Her bridegroom wore a similar tunic that fell to his knees. The skirt was not pleated but rather fell in graceful folds. About his waist was a gold chain, and he carried no weapons.
The bride and her groom were led into the garden overlooking the fjord, where the lady Persis placed wreaths of multicolored flowers on their heads.
Then Arik, High Priest of the Great Creator, asked the simple question. “Do you, Sirvat, daughter of the Dominus Ejnar, deceased, and his living widow, Persis, and you, Corrado, son of Dima and his wife, Amala, deceased, pledge yourselves to each other as husband and wife?”
“Yes!” Corrado said.
“Yes!” Sirvat echoed.
“Then let it be so in the eyes of the Great Creator of us all,” Arik replied. “You are now wed, Sirvat and Corrado. The Great Creator bless your union, and give you many children and much happiness in the years to come. It is done.”
“That is all?” Lara whispered to Magnus.
“It is enough, isn’t it?” he replied with a small smile. “Do they do things differently in Hetar?”
“It depends,” Lara said. “The daughter of a wealthy man is wed in a great show of splendor, even if it means her father will go into debt. In Hetar how one appears to others is very important. My father, however, wed my stepmother in the Midlands where both had been born and raised. Each month a marrying day is held, and the Squire of the Midlands performs a small ceremony. But even there the bride’s family holds the best feast it can. No
