Chapter 137 – The Ceremony
“You have nothing to be nervous about.” Yequariel spins me in a circle so he can examine the fit of my attire. “You look amazing.”
“I’m not nervous!” I object.
The arachnoid chuckles to himself, adjusting a clip on my sleeve. “If you say so. Tariq, would you grab me the yellow thread from my bag over there?”
Two of Yequariel’s apprentices are also helping to prepare me for the ceremony, including Jesha, a felis, and Tariq, the Traveler with the Tailor Role. I’m glad to see him making friends and fitting in so well already.
“Arms up, wings out,” Yequariel tells me. I obey, and he clacks his tongue appreciatively. “These colors go perfect with your feathers. I don’t know how I managed all those years without Valenian silk: such vibrant hues.”
Yequariel tests the reach of my shawl, which he’s designed to stop before my wing joints, just above the hip. It’s much shorter than a traditional Fyrethian cape, but the Keep didn’t have any harpies to worry about until the Lost Colony showed up. Several alterations have to be made such that my clothes don’t risk tangling in my wings—or catching fire from my Jets.
Then again, Mirzayael and I weren’t attempting the most traditional wedding, anyway.
Fyrethian tradition features more muted colors, with the majority of decorations coming from cut stones and clay beads. Sometimes the wed individuals wear fur cloaks, if any had family members that could lend some for the ceremony. Yequariel is nodding to that tradition by creating silk capes for Mirzayael and I; dresses aren’t common attire for arachnoids or harpies given the potential for the fabric to tangle in all the limbs. Still, Mirzayael insisted we do something to honor Earth wedding customs.
I considered having my attire be white, but Fyrethians have a negative association with the color, relating it to cold, ice, and isolation. Therefore, I went with a color I’d always loved but never felt bold enough to wear: red.
After some more poking from Mirzayael, she learned gold bands and diamond rings were also a common theme in Earth weddings, so she insisted those be incorporated into the designs as well. I’d balk at the extravagance of it all, except gold and diamonds are considered pretty but relatively mundane materials to Fyrethians. I suppose when one lives underground and a significant portion of the community has an earth affinity, such things are far easier to come by.
Gemstones and metal links jingle against each other as I move, hanging from my clothes like so many beads. My pants are loose and flowy, except where they cinch about my ankles, so they appear like a skirt when my legs are close but don’t risk impeding my ability to fly. My top likewise billows with the illusion of loose, light layers, but is carefully secured with gold chains and gemstone buttons. Less functional than the rest is an array of gold and rubies that hover between my shoulders and a delicate halo-like crown around my head; like a veil made out of sunbeams and spider silk. Unsurprisingly, Echo informs me magic is involved.
The look is, to understate the obvious, quite stunning. I can’t wait to see what they’ve done with Mirzayael.
As Yequariel is adding the finishing touches, the flap of wings and a light breeze snaps through the room’s window. It has a higher pitch than harpy wings, and I recognize it without even needing to look–a wyvern. Tariq lets out a startled sound, and then Yequariel lets out a much more annoyed one. The wyvern lands on my back, and I jump as it snags at my feathers for purchase.
“Shoo!” Yequariel cries. “Get off! You’ll ruin all our work!”
The wyvern chirps indignantly and crawls over my shoulder, disrupting the rubies floating there. It snaps at one, and Yequariel objects in clear distress. “Someone close the window!”
Tariq hurries over to do just that.
“Come on, you trouble-maker,” I say, reaching up to shepherd the lizard off my shoulder. It lets go of my feathers as I take hold of it, though a wing still manages to snag the front of my shirt; I’m beginning to worry Yequariel might be about to have a heart attack.
“Jesha, get this pest out of here,” he snaps.
Jesha hurries around to my front and holds out her hands for the wyvern. I’m about to hand the lizard over when I notice something.
“Hold on.” I lift my arm it’s clinging to, revealing a pouch secured to its stomach, the same color as the wyvern itself. Typical messenger wyverns have tubes containing scrolls tied to their backs. This is a style I haven’t seen before; I’m not sure it’s more secure, but it’s much more covert. My heart jumps.
“Sandro,” I say, quickly trying to undo the wyvern’s harness so I can get at its message. This is easier said than done one-handed, and Jesha ends up taking the wyvern so I have both hands to work with. When I finally get all the buckles unclasped, the wyvern wiggles out of Jesha’s grasp and flies back to the window. It lands on the closed sill, angrily chirping that its path out had been blocked.
“Go ahead, let it out,” I tell Tariq, my eyes glued to the small, flat package in my hands. Is this really it? It’s far smaller than I was expecting. The sleeve can’t have more than two pieces of paper inside it—and when I open it up, I find that assessment is correct.
One is folded and sealed with wax; the other is addressed to me. Heart thumping, I open it.
“There was too much to send via wyverns,” the letter reads in Sandro’s handwriting. “Let me know when you receive this, and I’ll send you the key.”
That’s it. No signature, no further instructions. Curious, I carefully open the second paper. Unfolding it, I find a complex spell circle about the size of a dinner plate. Check.
[A summoning spell circle,] Echo replies.
Ah! That’s genius. He couldn’t send all the notes to me, but he could send a spell that would get them here. And this way, we don’t have to worry about it being intercepted and confiscated by gods.
Fitting session forgotten, I cross to the side of the room and retrieve Dizzi’s telestone from one of my bags. Smoothing the spell circle out on the table, I send a ping to Dizzi’s device and wait for her to respond. Then I open my Contact Interface.
[Fyre: Sandro, I’ve received your wyvern and have the spell. How do I activate it?]
The telestone pulses with light. “Hey, Fyre, what’s up? If you need someone to admire your wedding attire and confirm it all looks amazing, you’ve come to the wrong harpy.”
I chuckle. “I appreciate the non-offer, but I’ve got something you’ll be far more interested in. Sandro’s message just arrived.”
“What?!” There’s the sound of something crashing to the ground in the background. “I’m coming right this second. Don’t do anything fun without me!”
I glance around the room with an apologetic smile. Yequariel has backed off to allow me to handle the notes, but it’s clear he’s itching to get back to work.
“Sorry for the interruption,” I tell them. “But I’m going to need to handle this first. Do you mind waiting outside for a bit?”
“Of course, Lord Fyre,” Yequariel says with a tone that makes it sound as if he’s in pain. “Though, the ceremony is only a few hours away, and I still have much to perfect.”
“I’ll try to be fast,” I promise him. “Perhaps you can go check on Mirzayael in the meantime.”
The tailor bows his head. “Of course.” He gestures for the others to follow him out, and then I’m alone with the spell circle.
Less than a minute later, I get a response from Sandro.
[Sandro: I’m so glad they made it to you! I was worried they wouldn’t be okay. the summoning spell is something I found with shirasil’s notes. I can use it to send them to you, including the spell circle designs you’re looking for. you’ll have to say the passphrase aloud while spending mana to activate it]
[Fyre: Fantastic! Very clever solution, Sandro. So what passphrase should I use?]
[Sandro: er, I actually can’t tell you after the spell is set, or it won’t work. I guess it’s a security feature. but you should know the answer. what’s the name of my remnant?]
I smile, touching a finger to the spell circle and channeling my magic into the lines. “The Shuddering Shroud.”
The spell circle lights with the fiery color of my magic. I take a step back as the lines flatten themselves out and the paper goes taut. The air above the spell circle warps like a fisheye lens, then snaps back into focus with a sharp crack. I instinctively blink and flinch at the noise, and that’s all the time it takes for the papers to materialize.
It’s a giant stack of notes—concerningly large. I don’t know that we’ll have the time to go through all of this.
[Sandro: did you get it?]
[Fyre: Yes, I have it. There’s a lot here to sort through.]
[Sandro: that’s everything I already sent you in this interface, plus the diagrams]
I breathe a sigh of relief. Most of this is redundant, then. Thank goodness, or I don’t know what I would have done.
[Fyre: Thank you, Sandro for everything you’ve done for this city. You’re my hero.]
Sandro doesn’t reply, but I can imagine him ducking his head in embarrassment. I hope he’s as proud of himself as I am.
The door to the room bursts open with a gust of wind. I slap a hand down on the pile of notes before they can be blown away, and Dizzi rushes in.
“What’s this?” Dizzi cries, fixating on the stack of papers. “All of that couldn’t possibly have fit on a wyvern.”
“They didn’t. Sandro sent a summoning spell,” I explain.
Dizzi gasps in mock affront. “You activated a summoning spell? I told you not to do anything fun without me! Let me see, let me see!”
Now assured they all aren’t about to blow away, I let Dizzi sort through the notes, relaying what Sandro had just told me. “You might have to do some digging to find the spell circle designs.”
“Nah, that’ll be the fun part,” Dizzi assures me. “Can I take all these up to Broken Tower? I want to get working on it right away!”
“The wedding ceremony is this afternoon,” I remind her.
“I know!” She clutches the papers to her chest like a bouquet of flowers. “Isn’t this perfect timing? Now I don’t have to sit through some boring ceremony!”
I shake my head with a smile. To be honest, though, I’m in agreement with Dizzi; completing the spell circle is more important than a silly little ceremony. Mirzayael and I are already joined in everything but name, anyway; the wedding is for the Fyrethians more than for us. I’m rather eager to work on the spell circle as well, but Nek might throw a fit if we delay the wedding the day-of. Resigning myself to tagging up with Dizzi this evening, I wave her off to go work her magic. I invite Yequariel and his apprentices back in while I’m at it, and the arachnoid looks rather relieved to get back to work. He tuts over the damage the wyvern caused, but it’s all superficial and easily fixed. I let him do what he likes as my mind drifts across the city, wistfully imagining a different timeline where I never became queen and was allowed to study magic as I pleased. In fact, maybe that can still be a future for me. Perhaps I should float the idea of elected rulers to Mirzayael at some point.
Eventually, Yequariel deems me fit to show myself in public, and my thoughts are pulled back to the present. A flutter of nervous excitement tickles my stomach as I’m accompanied to the Great Hall, and I chastise myself for thinking of other days when the immediate one should be the first on my mind. Even if this is all for show, I still look forward to spending it with Mirzayael.
We’ve kept our minds carefully separated the entire morning so as not to spoil any surprises. It’s kind of fun not knowing what she’s thinking—it reintroduces a type of anticipation I hadn’t realized we’d forgone before today. I have to stop myself from mentally reaching out to her—I’ll be seeing her in a few moments, anyway.
As I step into the antechamber before the Great Hall, Ollie greets me at the entrance. He’s also dressed up, with silver chains and blue gemstones strung up between his horns and spikes, and ornate metal claws fixed over his real ones.
“DO YOU LIKE IT?” He wiggles in excitement and sends all the chains clinking against each other like windchimes. “IT WAS A SURPRISE! MERITIS HELPED MAKE IT!”
The young harpy pops up on Ollie’s back with a grin. “Well, I didn’t really make it, but it was my idea!”
“It’s wonderful,” I assure them both, making a mental note to track down the actual artisans and thank them later. “That was such a thoughtful gift, Meritis.”
The boy preens at the compliment, and Ollie turns to show off his jewelry to the next person who walks by.
Nek catches sight of me and heads over with a wide grin. “You look stunning, Lord Fyre.”
“You can thank Yequariel for that,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “No, it’s something more than the clothes. Though they are nice, too. There’s a look in your eyes. It’s nice.”
There is? I’m not entirely sure what he might be talking about. Perhaps just my nerves. The felis seems to sense my uncertainty and laughs again. “Come, Lord Fyre. Everyone is waiting for you.”
The room is a roar of sound even before I step into it; I’m not sure the Hall has ever been this full. Our city is bigger than it used to be, what with Travelers and visitors, so perhaps there is some truth to that. When I step into the room, the buzz of conversation begins to die down. From the other side of the hall, Mirzayael also steps from her entryway. I’m not sure if the room goes silent, or if the noise just falls beneath my attention, for every molecule of my being seems to focus on her.
Love, I think as the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen walks toward me. The look Nek had been talking about was love.