Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

Gentry religion was never anything I’d managed to get much of a grasp on, particularly since my hold on human religion was already pretty loose. From what I’d learned, gentry beliefs were polytheistic and nature-oriented, with specific practices and doctrine that varied widely by region. A priest of some sort was presiding today, but I’d been told he was mostly there to lend authority as a witness and officiant and that religion would have little role in the ceremony.

Another gentry custom was made apparent as soon as the couple appeared. There was no giving-away of the bride, nor did she even walk the aisle alone. Shaya and Rurik walked together through the crowd, hand in hand, making their way to the arch of roses as equals. Few gentry even bothered with weddings, but those who did regarded them—rightfully—as occasions of great joy and didn’t believe white was an appropriately cheerful color. So, Shaya wore a silk gown of deep rosy pink and had given up her usual braids to wear her long black hair loose down her back. It contrasted dramatically with Rurik’s pale, blond features, but their expressions of happiness were a perfect match.

The ceremony was as short and sweet as I’d been told it would be, mostly a recitation of the couple’s commitment to each other. The two of them getting together was still kind of incredible to me, seeing as they were so different. Shaya was always reserved and responsible. Rurik was arrogant and crude. Yet, somehow, they’d made it work and reached this point.

“Why, Eugenie,” said Dorian, once the vows were complete and the crowd had erupted into cheers, “are you tearing up? I never took you for the sentimental type.”

“No,” I snapped, running a hasty hand across my eyes. “It’s just hormones. They make me do stupid things.”

“Right,” he said, in a tone that clearly told me he didn’t believe me at all.

“Your Majesties.”

Shaya and Rurik stood before us, bowing low. Custom dictated that the new husband and wife present themselves to their liege lady before they could go on to their family and friends. They’d kind of rolled Dorian into the deal too since they still regarded him as their ruler to a certain extent. I thought the custom was kind of silly. Why should the couple come to us for a blessing? This was about them. We had nothing to do with it. Still, I’d long since learned not to fight against gentry etiquette and surprised Shaya with a big hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said. She had tiny roses tucked into her hair, and their scent surrounded me. The cherry trees had increased their petal production—through magic, no doubt—so that they rained down around us like confetti. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, flushing under the praise.

To the surprise of both of us, I hugged Rurik too. “I’m even happy for you. Though I’m not entirely sure you deserve her,” I teased.

He nodded. “That makes two of us.”

“I wish you many years of joy and fertility,” said Dorian, with a genuine expression of pleasure on his face. He always wore a smirk of some sort, so these moments of pure, legitimate delight were rare.

“Are you guys going on any kind of honeymoon?” I asked, realizing it was something I probably should’ve found out long before this. So much emphasis had been put on preparing for the wedding and its security that I’d never really thought much past today. My question was met with three puzzled looks.

“Honeymoon, Your Majesty?” asked Shaya, clearly unfamiliar with the word.

I was surprised by their surprise. “Er, yeah. It’s like a trip ... a trip you take after you get married. You go away somewhere on a vacation, for a week or two.”

“To what end?” asked Dorian with a small, curious frown.

I shrugged. “Well. So you can get away and be alone and ... well ... you know ...”

Understanding flooded their faces. Shaya shook her head. “We’re in wartime, Your Majesty. We could hardly dream of doing anything so frivolous.”

Typical gentry. They had no problem getting hot and heavy in public, but the idea of a private, romantic getaway was “frivolous.”

“Besides,” added Rurik with a wink, “why do we need to leave? Plenty of places to do it around here. And in the Thorn Land.”

“Ugh,” I said, after they’d strolled away. “How in the world did he win her over?”

Dorian chuckled. “Well, I daresay he won you over too. You weren’t his biggest admirer when you met.”

“That’s for damned sure,” I said. “But there’s a difference between simply learning to get along with someone and vowing to spend the rest of your life with them.”

“The way I see it, you can’t have one without the other.”

“That makes no sense,” I countered.

“Love rarely does. It’s a magic beyond any in this world.” I rolled my eyes, and he extended his arm to me. “Shall we see what delights lie in store among the refreshments? Surely there’s something there that even human medicine will allow you to consume.”

The mood was too festive for me to give him a hard time, so I let him lead me across the grounds, which wasn’t easy. Everyone passing by had something to say to us, whether it was simple congratulations or outright declarations of fealty. We had to carry on our conversation in pieces.

“Have you found another human doctor you can see?” Dorian asked me. “In a new and secure location?”

“Not yet,” I said. His wording wasn’t lost on me. He’d phrased it as a given, rather than chiding me for what he thought was a foolish errand, as he had last time. I knew it was a great concession for him, and I was willing to give something back. “Honestly, I’m not sure I should. Everything’s been going so well ... with the pregnancy, that is. Like you were saying, whatever help a human doctor can give me might be undone by the dangers I’m risking by venturing out of my kingdoms.”

Dorian nodded thoughtfully, with no hint of an I-told-you-so attitude. “Well, you’ll choose what’s best, I’m sure. Perhaps Roland might be able to suggest something when he next visits.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed. My gaze drifted to the opposite side of the courtyard, and I felt a smile grow. “And I know Pagiel will go with me anywhere and defend my honor.”

Dorian followed where I was looking. Pagiel, bright and full of energy, was holding onto Jasmine’s hands and trying to coax her into a dance. Gentry musicians had appeared in a corner and struck up a tune that had many skipping food for dancing. She kept shaking her head, but even I recognized the coy look of someone playing hard-to-get. It was obvious she secretly enjoyed his attentions.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Dorian asked.

“Nah,” I said as we finally reached the food. “He’s a good kid, and at least he’s relatively close to her age. Besides, now that I’ve claimed the honor, I don’t have to worry about her getting pregnant first.” When I’d first met Jasmine, she’d been involved with a gentry king named Aeson and dead-set on fulfilling our father’s prophecy. She, like Rurik, was someone who’d undergone a change for the better.

I meant to ask Dorian about the Yew Land, but the opportunity never really presented itself. Aside from being distracted by those constantly coming up to talk to us, we were also just caught up in the festivities themselves. Both of my kingdoms, as well as Dorian’s, had been living in a tense state these last few months, and it was nice to have a break from that. I laughed and cheered with the others when Rurik brought Shaya out onto the dance floor and spun her around. I watched Jasmine and Pagiel flirt with youthful innocence. I even drank some sort of sweet nectar, which the chef had sworn to me wasn’t alcoholic. It was served in goblets constructed from tulips, reminding me not for the first time that my life really was a fairy tale—just not always a happy one.