Chapter Forty

Two years later…

Lionel’s castle was a hive of unceasing activity as the wedding day drew near. The Great Hall was bedecked with great banners and elegant ribbons of amethyst and silver, sky-blue and dark red. The floors were scrubbed until they shone; every window cleaned. All available chambers were made ready to house royalty and nobility.

The unfamiliar lowing of oxen was heard in the castle grounds as five great ox-carts rattled and thudded through the courtyard towards the kitchen. Two bore enormous barrels of wine and ale. Too heavy to be carried, they had to be rolled off the carts. The other carts were piled with all manner of meats and fish. The castle dogs, lured by the enticing aroma of raw meat, gathered by the kitchens, sniffing, whining, barking, their only reward, loud curses.

In her chamber, Lilyrose did her customary fidgeting on her seat as Tilly worked her magic on her dark gold hair. The only lasting sign of Tilly’s altercation with Marlis was a scar on her temple and slower movement.

The young bride watched Margaret and Alice through the mirror’s reflection. Dressed in full-skirted amethyst gowns with silver trim, tiaras of flowers woven through their hair, the pair danced around the room.

To Lilyrose’s delight, despite her worry Margaret would decline, her cousin had agreed to be her maid of honour. Although a little distant, Margaret seemed more at ease around Ronal.

“There, my lady.” Tilly stepped back with a wide smile, head to the side as she scrutinised her work.

As Margaret and Alice cooed approvingly, Lilyrose half-turned in her chair. She gasped at the reflection of her hair, tumbling down her back in flowing curls. Tilly had braided it loosely and adorned it with roses. “Tilly. Oh, Tilly,” was all she could say.

Clasping her hands together, her maid smiled. “I’ve pinned the roses in place so don’t be worrying they’ll fall out when you’re dancing.”

“Tilly, dear,” said Alice, “when I get married, I wish for you to dress my hair.”

“I was about to say the same,” said Margaret.

A flush colouring her cheeks, Tilly curtsied. “My ladies, I would be most honoured.”

Getting to her feet, Lilyrose stepped out and faced them, smiling widely. She ran her hand over the slim-fitting bodice of her white wedding dress. Silver and amethyst trim curved around the neckline, decorated the cuffs and the hem. Silver slippers peeked out from under the wide, heavy skirt.

The three women, eyes sparkling, clasped their hands together and smiled, and Tilly wiped away a tear.

“How lovely you look,” said Alice.

Hands against her chest, she said, “I can’t believe today is finally here. I’m getting married.” Her eyes widened as her smile disappeared.

“What’s the matter?” asked Margaret, her brows drawing together.

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what? You’re not marrying a stranger.”

“I know, I know, but, it’s a strange feeling.”

“Somehow, I don’t think Arthur is plagued with strange feelings at the thought of marrying you.” Margaret’s words made them laugh.

Dressed in a smoke-grey, high-collared tunic, with sky-blue and deep red patterning around the collar, fitted cuffs and hem, Arthur paced about the chamber like a trapped animal. Every now and again, he ran his long fingers through his wavy, auburn hair.

“Watching you, no one would think you’re about to be married,” said Ronal, lounging on the chair by the unlit fireplace. “You look like you’re preparing for battle.”

Stopping, Arthur glared at him.

Ronal sat up, laughing. “What’s the matter?”

Pressing his lips together, he turned away before turning back again. “I-I’m. Nervous.”

“Nervous? Why?”

He shrugged, gaze darting around the room. “Getting married.”

Ronal chuckled. “Lilyrose isn’t a monster–”

“I know that. After you, she’s my most treasured friend. She’s clever, brave; she makes me laugh. She’s beautiful. I know how lucky I am.”

Getting to his feet, Ronal smoothed down his sky-blue tunic with red trim. “It’s understandable. After all, this is a big moment for you. And for Lilyrose.”

Arthur eyed him. “When did you become so wise?”

“I’ve always been this way. You’ve simply never noticed.”

Arthur snorted.

“I, for one, cannot wait for you two to be married.” Ronal thumped him on the back. “It means I’ll be able to see my little sister every day.”

“I remember my promise. I’ll make sure you both have as much time together as you possibly can.”

Smiling, Ronal nodded.

The new bride stared at the food on her plate. Her gaze took in the gold and silver dishes reflecting light off the candles. She couldn’t believe the lavish banquet her father had arranged for this day. There were exotic peacocks, stuffed and roasted and proudly dressed in their feathers; fish of all kinds, baked and boiled; platter after platter of roasted meats, rich with sauces.

On hearing astonished gasps and cheers, Lilyrose looked up. Her eyes widened as did her smile as the subtleties were paraded before all. Fashioned from sugar and almond paste, they depicted mythic beasts and hunting scenes.

Her thumb kept toying with the smooth wedding band, a pleasing weight on her finger. Arthur’s hand brushed hers. Turning to him, she glanced at the scar that started from his hairline and ran down past his left eyebrow, then met his twinkling gaze.

“You’re not eating,” he said softly.

“I can’t. I’m so, so happy. My husband.” Her cheeks coloured. She decided she liked the sound and feel of the word.

His hand covered hers. “Surely not as happy as me. My wife.”

She smiled so widely, her cheeks hurt.

“You are happy, yes?” Arthur’s smile faltered slightly, a frown threatening to crease his brow.

She nodded. “Very happy.” Lilyrose had confided in him before she’d left Edmund’s castle after the curse had been broken. She knew, since then, he constantly worried about her peace of mind. Her fear and anxiety following Marlis’ death hadn’t disappeared completely, but they had shrunk enough that she had more sleep-filled nights than not.

Oliver, the steward, invited the guests to join the newly-weds in the chamber of music and dance.

As she walked past her parents, Lilyrose extended her arm to Eleanor who grabbed her hand for a quick kiss. Eyes twinkling, Lionel beamed. Edmund remained seated; she paused and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Turning to face the emperor’s representative, she curtsied as Arthur bowed.

Walking past Ronal, she had to stop herself reaching out to embrace him. Instead, she grinned at him, and at Margaret, Henry and Alice.

Lilyrose’s eyes widened as they entered the chamber. The walls were bedecked with garlands of flowers and ribbons, and the subtle perfume of roses hung in the air. Giggling with delight, she followed Arthur to the middle of the room as the guests proceeded to fill the space against the walls.

As the murmurings around them dwindled into silence, the newlywed couple faced one another, and the musicians began a slow melody. Neither said a word as they stepped into the dance. Lost in each other’s gaze, the world slowly fell away.

None noticed the woman who remained in the shadows where she’d appeared as the dance began. Dressed in a plain, dark red gown, a gem circlet on her forehead, Garnet watched the couple, her mouth curved in a smile.

How handsome he looks, she thought, and the elf maiden, so beauteous. Her gaze sought and found Ronal, standing with arms crossed over his chest, sporting a smile wide enough to split his face. “Lord Avlar,” she whispered, “how like your father you have become. He would be so proud, and your mother also.”

Finding the music different yet pleasing, she closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to her sister. Our sisters have released me from service, Lenya. I have been given leave to spend time in this realm for as long as I wish, the only place I feel close to you. I can almost feel you when I am near Arthur. You know, Lenya, there was a time I believed I watched him only because of you. Then I realised how fond I have grown of the dear child. I wonder, is this what a parent feels for their child?

Opening her eyes, she gazed at him. “So, I will remain here, for you, also for him; Garnet no more, but Armina.”