“Wedding’s about to start,” Brodnik said.
After the food was cleared away, we turned our attention to the castle doors. Two men wearing official-looking uniforms propped the doors open, and then they unrolled a long rug decorated with white tree branches and golden unicorns. They carefully maneuvered the rug across the footbridge and over the grass until they stopped under a white wooden trellis.
“Does the carpet mean something?” I asked Kull.
“It’s a symbol of the path the couple will take throughout their marriage.”
“Everything in the ceremony is a symbol,” Brodnik added.
“It is? I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“We’ll teach you.” Kull winked.
The gangly young woman sitting beside Brodnik spoke up. “The branches on the rug are birch wood to symbolize the bride,” she explained. Her voice had a know-it-all tone, and she reminded me of a kid who spent too much time indoors buried in books. “Birch is the symbol for motherhood and fertility,” she continued, “while the unicorn represents the groom—a symbol of unselfishness and unity. The two symbols together are thought to bring good luck to a future marriage. After the ceremony, the couple will be given a similar tapestry to display in their home.”
“A smaller one, I hope,” I said.
“Aye,” Brodnik said, “it would be mighty cumbersome to hang that on a wall, now wouldn’t it?”
From the open gates, a procession of people walked down the carpeted path. They wore simple white robes, though most of them wore golden sashes or bodices with golden brocade over their clothing. The women wore their hair in elaborate braids accented with golden leaves and flowers. As the gathering reached the end of the carpet, they stood aside. A young girl came behind them, holding an odd-shaped wooden cup with two large handles on either side. The cup looked carved, though I couldn’t tell more than that.
“The cup means something, I guess?” I whispered.
“Yes,” Kull answered. “The cup is carved with the runic symbols for unity, and the two rams’ heads are carved to form the handles, representing renewal. The bride and groom will both drink mead from the cup. They’ll keep the cup in their home and drink from it again once every year on the day of their wedding anniversary.”
The girl carefully placed the cup on a small table sitting under the trellis, and then she stood aside as an older woman walked down the path. A tarnished blade lay in her outstretched hands. She walked carefully, holding the sword with reverence until she reached the end of the carpet. Instead of joining the crowd with the others, she turned and faced the castle doors.
The air grew still, with only the sound of the wind as it brushed the tree branches overhead. Rolf walked out of the castle doors. He walked with a straight back, and his usual boyish grin was replaced with a solemn face and neatly trimmed beard. Instead of wearing questing gear as I’d always seen him in, he now wore a long, midnight blue robe, a silver-embroidered doublet, and polished boots. He was almost unrecognizable. I blinked to make sure it was him.
He stopped as he reached the lady with the sword, and then he also turned to face the castle doors.
The bride came last. There was no music to announce her arrival—unless one counted the sound of birdsong. As she walked down the carpeted path, several people in the crowd opened cages filled with maywelters—magical dragonfly-type creatures that lived near water. As the fae creatures flitted out, their bodies glittered in shades of aquamarine and seafoam green, reflecting in the long brown hair that spilled down the bride’s back. The bride wore a golden-colored gown, and she carried a bouquet of dark purple flowers with yellow centers. I remembered Terminus calling them molfüsbane flowers.
The bride wore a contagious smile that reflected in her eyes. When she reached Rolf’s side, she stopped, took his hand, and turned to the woman with the sword.
“Rolf’s grandmother,” Kull said. “Either she or the patron is called upon at the wedding to be the sacred sword-bearer. She will pass the sword to the wife of her grandson, who will hold it in trust for her own sons until they come of age.”
I glanced up at Kull. “Is that how you received Bloodbane?”
“Yes, it was given to my mother by my grandamere, and I am—was—to pass it down to my sons.”
“Oh.” I shrank in my seat, feeling guilty for having destroyed the sword, despite knowing I hadn’t had much of a choice.
The ceremony proceeded with the mead drinking, vow and ring exchange, and then laughter and clapping as the bride and groom were whisked back into the castle, where the party continued. As nightfall approached, with a growing headache and after a sleepless night, I wanted nothing more than a little solitude, so I escaped the feasting and dancing and made my way up the staircases into the less-crowded halls of the castle.
When I found Kull’s library, I hefted open the solid, oaken doors, hoping to find some quiet inside. I immediately heard the sounds of shouting, so I turned away, but not fast enough.
“Olive, come in,” came a woman’s voice.
At first, I hesitated. What could I possibly do to get a moment’s rest? I turned and entered the room. When I reached the other side of a large shelf, I came face to face with Kull, Heidel, and a woman whom I’d never met, although with her dark hair and sharp gray eyes, it was easy to tell that she and Heidel were unmistakably related.
“Olive,” Kull said with a forced smile, “I’d like you to meet my mother.”
Chapter 13
Kull’s mother gave me a curt nod as
