Adhna drilled him on where he must stand, what he must say, what he must not do, under any circumstances. He made Fingin practice his moves and his words. The Queen might send for them to attend the ceremony at any moment, so they had no luxury to rest or relax.
Bran watched all these preparations with a mixture of interest and boredom. When he grew bored, he chased the almost-butterflies or romped in the pond, startling several aquatic creatures to the point they complained loudly, at least to Fingin’s mind. He called the hound to task and chastised him for chasing the wildlife. Then he dove back into his own lessons.
After what seemed like an interminable time and still not enough, a messenger Fae arrived.
Fingin crouched in front of Bran. “You must remain here again, understand? Will you leave the fish alone?”
“They’re not like other fish. Do they taste different?”
“I don’t know, and you shouldn’t find out. They are in Adhna’s pond, and they’ve asked you not to chase them. You need to be a courteous guest.”
Bran pouted but didn’t argue.
Adhna gave him a final examination on his duties, and they were about to leave for the palace when a laugh behind them made them turn.
The bark-skinned Fae stood next to Bran, who growled and snarled at the sudden visitor.
“So, you are off to your wedding. What a felicitous day. I shall watch after your lovely hound, shall I?”
Fingin clenched his fists until his knuckles ached, wanting to punch the smug smile from the Fae’s face. “Bran can watch after himself.”
Adhna stepped forward, his hands out. “Now, now, no need for all that. Bodach, we don’t need your assistance here. Thank you for the offer, but we’re prepared. Will you accompany us to the ceremony? I assume the Queen expects you to attend as Consort.”
Bodach frowned, the bark around his mouth crinkling and creaking. He glanced down at Bran, whose hackles remained high, and then at Fingin, whose fists ached.
“Very well. I shall escort you to your sentence. I mean, your nuptials.” With a nasty grin, he patted Bran’s head with condescending care. “The hound might want to visit later when you’re tending to your bride. He might grow lonely for lack of attention.”
Fingin didn’t want to leave Bran alone any longer. He turned to Adhna. “Can Grimnaugh remain with Bran during this?”
The older Fae shook his head and crossed his arms. “I’m afraid not. He must attend. The hound should be safe enough until we’re done.”
* * *
As a child, Fingin had imagined he would someday grow up, find a wife, raise a family, and work a farm. Everyone else he knew had done this, except the neighbor’s eldest son, who’d gone off to study with the druí.
When his grandmother had left and stolen his voice, he changed that dream, shifting it to a more solitary life. However, he still thought if he convinced a girl to marry him anyhow, their wedding would be a joyful occasion attended by friends and family. Good food, some dancing, some singing, perhaps a few stories.
The reality of his union bore a poor resemblance to the fantasy. Marriage didn’t apply, as this was more of a contract, a business arrangement, rather than any pledge of undying love and loyalty. No romance or passion accompanied either participant.
Fingin stood in the grove, holding both of his bride’s hands, trying his best to avoid her eyes. Colorful bunting floating around him and the trees sang an ethereal descant. He fought the urge to run away, screaming. Every second, his legs and heart begged him to escape, to fight, to protest this marriage. At the same time, his entire body remained rooted in place, unable to move a muscle.
Other than the bunting and the singing trees, little resembled a human wedding ceremony. While a few Fae courtiers attended as witnesses, no grand ball or procession marked the celebrants.
Adhna stood stiffly by his side, exchanging a curious, intimate glance with the Queen.
Fingin remained in his sunset-colored draped clothing while Tomnat wore the shifting green and blue outfit she wore at the ball. The moving colors made him nauseous if he watched it too long. Her hair hadn’t changed from its dark curls tipped with green. She had worn a pendant, something swirling and silver, but he couldn’t focus on it. His mind whirled as they stood before the Faerie Queen, his own grandmother, who didn’t even recognize him.
Queen Cliodhna wore her sparkling, snow-white dress, and chanted in words he couldn’t quite understand. Some ancient language, old words he almost recognized, a lyrical speech from another age. Under his breath, Adhna translated for him. “This union is to last for the length of two live births. Until that time, the participants shall live together as the humans do in marriage, avowing all others, and care for any progeny that results from the union.”
Nothing about loving, cherishing, or honoring the other. Nothing about being bound for the rest of their lives. Nothing about vows or promises before any god. A business contract and nothing more.
Queen Cliodhna performed the ceremony with Bodach by her side. Adhna and Grimnaugh stood in for Fingin’s family, while Airiu and Uasal stood with Tomnat. The patent misery in Airiu’s eyes mirrored his own, but the ceremony didn’t permit them to speak to each other.
Since he couldn’t catch Tomnat’s gaze, he gave up trying to connect with his bride and instead stared into Airiu’s eyes. He fell into the blue sky of her wish. The world
