Catherine Archer - Fire Song

Celeste hesitated for no more than a moment before her expression brightened. “Which is why we will not inform the Baron of Kirkland until it is too late. And we could not tell Father because we would not wish for him to be held responsible.”

Meredyth shook her head in confusion. “Not tell? What can you mean?” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate her own diminutive form. “You cannot imagine that I could be mistaken for you, Celeste. Even if it were not for the difference in our height, look at your own hair and mine.” Meredyth reached back and pulled the weight of her own fiery braid forward over her shoulder. “There can be no hope of succeeding in this.”

Celeste moved toward her, her eyes pleading again. “But we can do it. We must do it, Meredyth. I…I am no virgin, and St. Sebastian would as lief kill as forgive me when he found out. You said yourself that he is our enemy. Think you he would treat me with kindness?”

Meredyth gasped, her mind churning. “But you said…”

“I said he did not force me.” High color rode her creamy cheeks.

Heaven, but this changed all. Meredyth knew that what Celeste said was very likely true. St. Sebastian might well kill her if he learned she was not chaste. “I cannot sit by and allow you to come to such an end, but…this…” She put her hands to her head, trying to think past the shock of what she had just learned and her concern for her sister.

Celeste changed her tone to one of cajoling. “Meredyth, I have seen this man. Even though he is our family’s enemy I could not but see that he is not ill-favored. St. Sebastian is tall and strong and handsome in a fearsome way. I heard other maids at court speak of him with some longing. If I were not in love with another…” She did not meet Meredyth’s gaze.

Meredyth could only stare at her in amazement. “The man’s good appearance or lack of such is the least of my concerns in this matter.”

The elder girl flushed, then pressed on. “Please, you are my only hope.”

When Meredyth made no demur, simply raising tormented eyes to her sister’s face, the blond woman began to remove her wedding gown. She spoke matterof-factly now. “I have a veil that would cover you from head to waist. You shall wear my new cotehardie, and…”

“But we shall be found out. We are not of a height. There must be at least four inches difference between us.” Yet even as she replied Meredyth was unaccountably reminded of her sister’s account of Kirkland—“tall, strong, and fearsome.” Had Celeste really thought to reassure her with that description? And that other maids might find him appealing was of no consequence to her.

Celeste was clearly oblivious to her reaction and did not stop removing her garments as she motioned briefly toward the window. “It has nearly grown dark. In the light of the candles none will guess your identity if you wear my clothing. Men do not take note of such things. It is not in their nature. You know I have asked that none besides the priest, St. Sebastian and Father attend the ceremony. Father is so upset at the marriage that he will not realize. And the baron has only seen me once from across a crowded antechamber. You may be assured that he will not recall any detail of my appearance.”

Meredyth did not believe this for a moment. Any man who once set eyes upon Celeste would certainly remember her. But that knowledge was overridden by the hurtful realization that her father was indeed so distraught over Celeste’s marriage to this man that he might not take heed of what was going on around him.

Even as these thoughts ran through Meredyth’s mind, Celeste dropped the last of her outer garments on the floor. She stepped forward and put her hands to the shoulders of Meredyth’s burgundy damask cotehardie. “Let me help you to change. This is your wedding day.”

Her throat tight and dry with anxiety, Meredyth made her way to the chapel on shaking legs. Everyone she met along the way seemed only relieved to see her finally going there. No one, not even her father himself as she arrived in the entrance to the chapel, appeared to realize that she was Meredyth, not Celeste. He simply hurried down the aisle to urge her forward. It was only after taking a deep breath and forcing herself to recall that she might indeed be saving her sister’s life, that she was able to go on.

Her heart felt painfully large in her chest as she moved down the aisle toward the large shadowy figure of the man she had never even seen before. The man who would be her husband.

Meredyth nearly tripped over the hem of the ivory samite skirt. They had been forced to hike up the skirt with a girdle of gold lengths, and still it was long. Her knee-length hair they had twined around her head, then wrapped in ivory fabric to disguise the color. The carefully piled hair had also served to give her the appearance of more height. And finally, the heavy veil of gold sendal she wore covered her from head to waist, both back and front.

She looked neither right nor left, keeping her mind centered on simply putting one foot in front of the other. When she stopped at the front of the altar, Meredyth was too agitated to even look at the man who stood beside her. She had an impression of height, of immense strength and a simmering unrest

The priest spoke with obvious relief, drawing her gaze to him. “I will light the candles.”

Meredyth took a quick breath, and begged, “Please, do not.” She was almost glad that her throat was so tight, her voice so husky with anxiety that no one would recognize it. “I…”

The man beside her seemed to stiffen even more as he made a gesture of impatience, cutting her off. “Do not bother with the candles, priest. Let us see this done as quickly as possible.”

If she was relieved by his concordance with her own wishes, Meredyth was too far beyond reason to feel it.

Her fear of being discovered kept her from focusing on anything else as the priest led them through their vows. The deep sound of his voice seemed filtered through a dense fog, as did the voice of the man at her side, but she was not completely deaf to the impatience in his tone.

The sound of her pounding heart prevented her from hearing her own whispered replies. It seemed in fact so loud she feared more than once that the man at her side must surely hear it too.

Only when the priest fell silent did Meredyth realize it was over. She had married this man in her sister’s stead.

St. Sebastian reached down with a possessiveness that even she could recognize and took her hand in his warm one. A hot streak of surprise and another unexpected sensation that she could not quite name raced through her. Inexplicably that sensation made her pulse quicken all the more.

Meredyth tried to concentrate as he spoke to her, his deep voice husky with an oddly sensuous note now that the wedding was completed. “Might I not at least look upon my beautiful bride?”

A shiver of apprehension shot down her spine as Meredyth whispered. “Nay, my lord, please. I ask you to understand that I am shy of you…of this marriage.”

He leaned over her, so close that even through the heavy sendal of the veil she could feel his warm breath against her ear as he spoke. “There is no need to fear me, my little bride.”

Again Meredyth shivered but this time it was not totally due to apprehension. She forced herself to think, to ignore the tingling along her nape, and replied in a desperate whisper. “Nonetheless I am frightened.” He would never know what the admission cost her. Never in her life had Meredyth felt so terrified of anyone or anything. Nor would she have admitted it if she had been. Having spent her life with the realization that she would never be adored as was her sister, Meredyth had long ago learned to hide her emotions behind a wall of dignity.