All of a sudden, Laela wanted to laugh. Here she was, after everything he had done, pretending to be his daughter. And the thing was, the odd thing was, that in his own way he had almost been like a father to her. He had protected her, given her a home, given her everything she needed. He had been a friend, had watched over her, had taught her everything he knew. And when trouble came, that awful day in the Temple, he had willingly gone into danger in order to try to save her, and had nearly sacrificed his own life in the process.
Laela slumped back into her chair and put her hands over her face. This was impossible; it all was. She was no murderer, and Arenadd was. .
. . was all she had. If she killed him now, she would not just be killing her family’s murderer but also the only one left in the world who cared about her as a father would. Without him, she would be alone in the world again.
And the South would lose the enemy who had become its greatest protector.
When she realised that, Laela knew there was no way she could kill him.
She got up and stalked out of the room.
Laela got married the next day, without having met her prospective husband beforehand, in the very same Temple where she had nearly died.
She spent the morning in her rooms with Telise and Inva, both of whom worked to prepare her for the ceremony. If she’d thought they had pampered her before, that was nothing compared to now. After a light breakfast, the two of them spent literally the entire morning up until noon bathing, massaging, painting, filing, combing, brushing, anointing, and decorating the bride-to-be, before they helped her climb into the most elaborate outfit she had ever seen in her life. It started with a skimpy two-piece thing not unlike what she had worn on the first day, but over the top of that went entire layers of veils, scarves, and bits of jewellery covered in tiny gold bells.
She was half-convinced that she wouldn’t even be able to walk underneath all of it, but when she was finally allowed to stand up, she found that the outfit was surprisingly light.
As she prepared to leave, Oeka came to join her, having spent the morning with her own attendant plus a second, who had been called in especially. Her coat nearly shone, but it was barely noticeable under the jewel- encrusted headdress and the tassels that hung from her wings. Even her beak and talons had been coated in gold leaf.
She said nothing but walked by Laela’s side as they set out into the palace with the four slaves forming a retinue around them. When they left the palace, they found themselves joining a procession, which moved off the moment they had taken a place halfway along, moving at a sedate pace along the sandy street, where dozens of people had gathered to watch.
Shaded by palm leaves, which Inva and Telise held over her head, Laela looked ahead. At least a hundred people were in the procession behind and in front of her. Guards, nobles, griffins-and servants to attend to most of them. Decorated poles swayed overhead.
At the very front, she could catch a glimpse of an entire phalanx of griffins swaggering along side by side, all headdressed and bursting with complete, arrogant self-confidence.
No sign of her future husband, though, as far as she could see. She walked along obediently, forced to keep a slow pace by the rest of the procession and the ridiculous sandals she had to wear.
It took a painfully long time to reach the Temple-not that she wanted to see it again in a hurry. When the entrance finally loomed above her, her stomach twisted. She didn’t know what to expect when she entered, and was very relieved when it turned out to be nothing more terrifying than the same long, stone room, only now festooned in flowers. People and griffins lined the room, leaving a passage down the centre to the altar, where Laela’s intended waited for her.
She walked forward, with Oeka. The rest of the procession had fallen away, and only Inva and one of Oeka’s attendants were left, walking silently in the rear.
And there he was, waiting for her under the gaze of Xanathus’ golden statue. The Amorani Empire’s youngest Prince, whose name she didn’t even know, but who would be her husband by the time she left the Temple.
Laela wasn’t sure what she had expected him to be like, but she knew for certain it hadn’t been this. Part of her had thought he would be bald, like his father, and she had definitely thought he would be much older than her. She was wrong.
The Prince didn’t look more than a year away from her in age, and he had a full head of thick, dark hair. A diamond stud twinkled on one side of his nose, and the smile he greeted her with was nearly as brilliant. All in all, he was. .
The Prince held out a hand to her. “Welcome, my beautiful flower of Cymria.”
Laela fought and lost a battle with a big goofy grin. “I’m honoured to meet you, Prince,” she said, taking the hand.
His grip was delicate, but strong. “I welcome you in Xanathus’ name.” He spoke Cymrian, and his voice was rich and wonderful to listen to. “Come, stand beside me.”
Laela joined him, oblivious as Oeka greeted the Prince’s own partner. “I’m Laela,” she said in an undertone.
“And I am Akhane,” said the Prince, with another dazzling smile. “You are far more beautiful than I ever expected.”
The two griffins parted, standing face-to-face in front of their partners but far enough back to make them easily visible to the onlookers. The Emperor was there, too, standing beside the statue of Xanathus with his eldest wife.
From where she stood, Laela could see that the other Northerners were there, too. They had been allowed to stand right at the front of the Temple, on her left-hand side. They wore their own ceremonial outfits, but their griffins must have insisted on receiving the same kind of pampering as Oeka. They blended in with the Amorani griffins quite well.
With everyone in place, Zaerhi let out a piercing screech from somewhere behind the statue.
Silence fell, and as everyone settled down, a priest appeared from behind the altar as if by magic. He was bald and gold-painted, like Ocax, but as Laela and Akhane turned to face him over the altar, she saw that he was a much older man-probably the head priest for this Temple.
The ceremony began.
It was in Amorani for the most part, and other parts were in griffish, but Laela quickly lost track of it anyway. At certain points, she was prompted to repeat something the priest had said, and she dutifully obeyed, but most of the time all she did was stand there in a kind of daze. She kept stealing glances at the Prince, and he returned every one of them, bright-eyed and smiling.
Laela’s head spun.
She had agreed to get married for the sake of duty. She had never once expected that she would be getting the man of her-damn it, of
She realised quickly enough how silly that idea was. If he came back with her, then sooner or later he would probably realise she had been lying about her parentage. And he wouldn’t want to leave his homeland just for her sake.
But with that in mind, Laela dropped her former determination with regard to the wedding night. She wouldn’t get to keep this spellbinding man, but damn it all, she was going to sleep with him come what may-even if that did mean spending the rest of her life disappointed by every other man she met.
She gave his hand a squeeze and thrilled when he squeezed back.
The ceremony ended when the Prince anointed Laela’s forehead with oil, announced something in Amorani, and leaned in to kiss her. She returned the kiss eagerly, and the crowd cheered.
And that was it. She was married.
Another procession took Laela back to the palace, but this time she walked to the front by her new husband’s
