Norah swallowed. Yes, just as she’d rehearsed. Then she’d be salara. She gave a nervous nod, and her maid held her hand as she led her to the great hall.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Vitalia. Her maid smiled and gave her hand another reassuring squeeze, then stole away to prepare.
Norah forced one foot in front of the other. She’d had plenty of time to accept this, she told herself, yet somehow, her mind was still in denial. Her thoughts shifted to Mikael. He wasn’t as she’d expected, and she wasn’t entirely appalled at the idea of him being her husband. He roused feelings in her that she had struggled to ignore—feelings that might be right for a wife to have for her husband.
But those thoughts came to a halt when she rounded the corner and saw Alexander.
His eyes moved down her dress and then back up. He looked at the crown on her head, and his lips parted, but he didn’t speak.
She reached up and touched the crown. “Salara-Mae had it made,” she started to explain. “I…” She didn’t know what to say. She what? Hoped he liked it?
Her gaze caught his, but he couldn’t hold it. He glanced at the ground before he drew in a breath and raised his eyes once more. “You look like a Mercian queen.”
She gave a sad smile.
Alexander looked back over his shoulder to where Caspian stood waiting. Norah had been so thankful to see the captain again when he’d arrived, and she was thankful he was with her now. Caspian nodded to her but didn’t draw closer, clearly intending to give her and Alexander privacy.
Alexander turned back to her, and his eyes glistened. “Norah,” he breathed.
“Don’t,” she said. She’d fall apart. And she couldn’t fall apart. She pulled her eyes from him, unable to look at him anymore. If she did, she wouldn’t go through with it.
She kept her eyes down.
“Caspian and I will be right behind you,” he told her.
She nodded.
Vitalia came sweeping back, with Serene right behind. “Everything’s ready,” she said breathlessly as they both worked to straighten her gown. “Salar is at the front. Just walk straight to him.”
She could do that, she told herself.
The doors opened, and Norah gave a small gasp at the magnitude of people. Had she really just thought she could do this?
The crowd was overwhelming, larger than her coronation in Mercia. Her eyes found Mikael at the front, with the lord commander behind him. When he saw her, the corners of his lips curved upward ever so slightly. She stepped forward, making her way through the throngs of people lining the great hall.
Norah didn’t need to look back to know that Alexander was behind her. She could feel him.
She kept her gaze forward, on Mikael. It wasn’t hard to do. His garb was… not what she’d expected. He wore nothing over his upper half—the Kharavian battle form—leaving visible all the markings on his skin. Around his waist he wore a dark wrap tied like loose-fitting trousers, tapered to just below the knee, showing the ink on his calves and his feet. While a seemingly simple garb, it was anything but, with its heavy embroidery and beading. His hair hung loose, a way she hadn’t seen, and it was beautiful.
Still, she wavered.
When she reached him, he offered his hand. Norah moved to look back at Alexander, but then stopped. If she met his eyes…
He’d see her struggle. He’d see her on the cusp of breaking. She needed to stay strong. She forced herself to look back at Mikael and took his hand.
The prefect spoke in the Shadow tongue, but Norah knew what he said from what Salara-Mae had explained. He held a woven strip of silk in his hand, a strip of silk Mikael would loop round her waist that would signify her bond to him.
Mikael took the woven silk from the priest and looked at Norah, stepping closer to put it around her.
But she reached out and caught his arm, making him pause. “Wait,” she said under his questioning eyes. She’d thought about this for a long time after she’d learned of the practice, and she pulled a silver braided ribbon from the folds of her gown. “If I’m to be bound to you, then you’ll also be bound to me.”
Murmurs rippled through the masses, and then all was quiet as they waited for the king’s reaction.
She couldn’t read his face, and her pulse quickened. What if he refused her? But she waited, not shying from the silence.
Finally, he raised his arms slightly, giving her leave to slip the ribbon around his waist. She tried to hide her relief as she reached around him. Her hands grazed the warm skin of his torso, and she flushed but looped the ribbon into a loose knot.
The king made his own tie, pulling it tight around her waist as he looked down at her. His eyes were curious, and she gave him a small smile. She watched him during the prefect’s words. There was a gentleness to him, a softness in the way he held her hand.
The people who filled the hall started clapping, and Norah turned and looked out across the crowd.
It was done. They were wed.
Her eyes met Alexander’s, and she saw the glisten of his emotion. A deep, snaking pain crept around her heart, wrapping itself and squeezing tightly. She couldn’t breathe.
Mikael pulled her hand over his arm, as they’d rehearsed, and he led the processional through the cheering crowd and to the dining hall for their celebration. She struggled to keep herself together. The double doors to the adjacent rooms had been opened, making the hall seem vastly larger. At the front was a table, and he led her to their places.
“An interesting addition to the ceremony,” he said as they sat.
She tried to make sense of his words through the fog of her torment. “I thought it was appropriate.”
He didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement.
People entered, filling the tables. As expected, lords made their way to offer their well-wishes. For once, Norah welcomed the distraction, hoping it would free her of the image of Alexander’s eyes still in her mind. But their congratulations reminded her that…
Mikael. He was her husband now, and she, his wife.
He clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. He couldn’t peel his eyes from Norah’s hand in the Shadow King’s during the wedding ceremony. She’d almost looked at Alexander before she took it but stopped herself. Why had she stopped herself? He knew… she tried to hide her torment, but he knew. And it gutted him.
And when the Shadow King tied the rope around her waist… like he owned her… Instinctively, Alexander’s hand moved to his sword. But Caspian stepped slightly forward, bumping a shoulder in front of him and discreetly pushing him back.
Still, fight rippled under his skin. Why wait for battle? Why not kill the Shadow King now? If he waited, Norah would suffer. This man was a monster. Alexander swallowed, but the knot in his throat threatened to choke him. This king wouldn’t be kind. He wouldn’t be gentle. He wouldn’t take care of her the way that she needed.
His pulse thrummed faster as his hand tightened around his sword. The Shadow King wouldn’t hold her as Alexander would. He wouldn’t kiss her softly. Alexander’s breath shook. This man wouldn’t love her.
Suddenly, the hall erupted in cheers, jolting him. He caught Norah’s gaze for the briefest of moments. Her lips parted as she sucked in a breath. Then she pulled away, and the king led her down the center and toward the celebration feast.