Chapter 2

“Oh, Sel, look at you!” Tousa squealed, flicking a soft brush covered in blush over her cheeks. “You’re gorgeous! So gorgeous! Ugh, I’d kill for your hair.” Her last words bit off in a grumble, and the other bridesmaids laughed. Tousa’s own hair was done up in a rather chaste bun, to the point where she nearly looked like Lani.

            Lani, who was fixing Sel’s red silk veil to her head, swatted Tousa’s hand away. “No more blush, or she’ll be ready for the circus.”

            Tousa stuck her tongue out, but retreated. She focused on her own dress�"a soft pink, simple gown, sequined with diamonds and holding together with one lace sleeve. The other shoulder was bare. All the bridesmaids wore that same exact dress, but Sel liked it best on little Eldina. She was only a couple years younger than Sel, but her big, innocent eyes made her look younger. She made the dress work. Though, at the moment, with her squatting and digging through bag after bag for her earrings, she wasn’t doing it much justice.

A little radio in the corner of the room was playing a quaint café jazz, but when the song ended, the radio host cut the program for the daily Magisterium broadcast. As Sel’s hair and face were pulled this way and that, she listened to the flat, lifeless voice of the mystic host.

“It is our honor to announce that Prime Minister Vilgeim’s court has passed the public decency bill. He aims to create a cleaner, more virtuous environment by reducing the gaze of lust, which leads to infidelity, one of the five Lords of Depravity. It is imperative that the dragon is not fed further, lest another host of demons come up from the underworld. Even now, seven human generations after the last Scourge, the memories still haunt the Magisterium. We wish mystic and human alike would never face such tragedy and horror again. Prime Minister Vilgeim has given the Wardens permission to enforce�"“

“Kouella’s mane! Shut that off, will ya, Eldina?” Tousa spat. Her nose crinkled in distaste as the flat voice continued to crackle through the speakers before Eldina shut it off. “I can’t listen to that voice just dronin’ on and on. Gives me shivers.”

Sel yawned. She didn’t care whether the Magisterium tooted its own horn or not. It was too early.

            “Sel,” Lani tutted, “did you sleep last night?”

            “No.”

            Her pink lips parted into a big smile. “Weddin’ night jitters, huh? I know the feelin’.”

            “Ah, Sel, don’t be nervous!” Tousa’s squealing was too much. She started picking at the details of Sel’s dress�"a deep red, mermaid-style gown with golden shoulder plates that made her feel more like she was going into battle than getting married. “Niam’s gonna love this dress, my dear Mother.”

            “It is something,” purred a soft voice.

Sel looked up to see Dallearma van Vinderschied, Lani’s friend from Brakhur. Brakhurian women, Sel found, were monstrous. Her honey-blonde hair was done up in a bun like everyone else’s, but it did nothing for her�"her face was too bony. And her lips were too thin. Her eyes, too big. She drifted into the room with the bouquet, handing it to Sel and looking into the mirror of the little white vanity with her. Dallearma’s bright blue eyes flashed, her white teeth nearly taking up her whole face as she grinned.

“You look like you jumped right out of the forge. If your hair were longer, you’d even look like the good Mother. Amazing.”

“Thanks, honey.” Sel smiled, and it was genuine. To be compared to Kouella, it made her happy. But the happiness didn’t last. Not with the situation at hand.

Once every last thing was in place, the three bridesmaids stood back to admire her. Eldina had finally found her earrings, and hurried over to join them. Her big smile was infectious, and Sel smiled back.

“You look great!” She pipped. “I’m so excited! I can’t wait to see Ni’s face!”

Lani and Tousa nodded their agreement, glowing with pride over their handiwork, and Dallearma smiled gently before handing Sel her sparkly red shoes. Before Sel put them on, she sighed and took one last look at herself in the mirror. Her chest caved, and before the slight pain could grip her any worse, she whispered,

“Can you ladies give me a moment? I need to gather myself.”

“Oh, sure, doll,” Lani laid a gentle hand on her shoulder plate. “We’ll be downstairs gettin’ the boys in line.”

Tousa and Eldina giggled and hurried out the door. Lani and Dallearma walked slowly, like mature adults�"though Sel could tell Lani was just as excited. Dallearma, however, remained an enigma. She made Sel uneasy.

The rough, glittery skin of the shoes felt strange against Sel’s fingers. She looked down at them, toying with the strap for a moment before dropping them on the floor. The room she was in screamed church�"light oak floors, white curtains, white walls, white fuzzy rug and couch, white, white, white. So much white. It was the part of the church made specifically for brides to get ready in. A tall figurine of Kouella, made of gold and rose quartz, stood in the corner. Her great mass of hair flared out like sunrays, her large mouth split in a fantastic grin, and the one great golden “eye” lodged right in the center of her forehead. She had no actual eyes. Her four arms all pointed out from the right side of her body, holding her symbols�"the mirror, the goblet, the golden sword.

Sel glanced at the golden plates on her own body. They were nearly identical to those that Kouella’s image wore. Her dress even split at both ends like Kouella’s skirt did, but unlike her Mother, her chest was covered. Kouella’s was right on display.

She turned back to the mirror and looked herself over, and her chest continued to crush in on her heart. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be married. I’m only twenty, damn it.

Though, Tousa did do a fantastic job with the makeup. The champagne shadows on her eyes brought out their honey color, and her lips matched her dress perfectly. Her brows were perfectly shaped, her face contoured into that of a god. She didn’t want to ruin it, but the longer she looked, the more her eyes burned and blurred, until finally, the tears spilled over.

Kouella, help me.

Sel pulled her legs up on the seat and hugged her knees to her chest. She dabbed the tears away with the skirt and hid her face, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. It was too painful. She focused on breathing instead.

“I’m sure the bride isn’t supposed to cry on her wedding day.”

She flinched at the sudden voice, but her head snapped up regardless. There, sitting in the open window frame, was Devroz. Eyes hidden with dark glasses and hair neatly pulled back, but it was him nonetheless. His earrings were gone, and he was wearing an amethyst-toned shirt, but still no tie or jacket or anything.

“Can’t even dress right for my weddin’?” Sel laughed at him, and he grinned. With his eyes hidden, he almost looked human.

“You know I hate ties. And jackets.”

“And suspenders, apparently.”

“They’re demon straps.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning, and turned back to the mirror. It didn’t take long for her grin to disintegrate. Her shoulders heaved in a big sigh. “I hate this.”

“You look beautiful, though.”

“Thanks, Dev.”

“Of course.” He startled her by appearing at her side so suddenly, but his hand trailing down her bare arm soothed her. He whispered, “Have you thought about it?”

“All night.”

“And?”

He looked up into the mirror with her, though she thought he looked a little ridiculous with his hair pulled back in that little ponytail. She smiled a little bit, but it soon fell off her lips. Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she whispered,

“I can’t. I gotta do this.”

“I see.” Devroz’s voice gave nothing away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You have your own commitments. Though, I can’t say I didn’t hope for a different answer.” He knelt down beside her and took one of her hands. “I’ll be there for the whole ceremony. You’re not alone.”

Another tear had built up and gone free, running down her cheek. Devroz leaned up to brush it away.

“No more crying. You’ll make a mess of yourself.”

“Thank you, bridesmaid number five.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Something shifted against the floor outside, like a carpet, and Sel’s heart seized in fear. She turned back to Devroz and frantically waved him away, whispering, “Go, go. I’ll see you durin’ the ceremony.”

            The mystic’s attention was also trained at the door, but he nodded and stood up. As he went back towards the window, he caught a glimpse of Kouella and shook his head.

            Then, he diffused into what few shadows the afternoon sun permitted, and he was gone.

            Sel turned her attention back to the door. “Hello?”

            No answer. She got up and went to the door, opening it just enough to poke her head out. No one was there. But the long carpet, it was moved. Just a bit to the side. Sel swallowed her fear and hurried back inside, shutting the door behind her.

            Who the hell was out there?

            She quickly pulled her shoes on. The little clock on the wall told her she had only a couple minute to get downstairs. She hurried out of the room, only to nearly break her ankle rushing back in for the bouquet, and then she moved quickly�"but carefully�"downstairs. Everyone, groomsmen and bridesmaids, were already in line and waiting. Everyone beamed at her as she got in position, and despite scanning every face, not one gave any hint of being the eavesdropper. Her heart beat a little harder.

            Did I imagine it? No. No, the rug�"

            “Are you doin’ okay?” Lani whispered as she turned around.

            “I’m great.”

            “Good,” her grin was dazzling.

            The church bells went off, chiming the wedding song, and Lani’s grin grew, somehow. She quickly reached out to squeeze Sel’s hand, and then she turned around, ready to start the procession. Someone stepped beside her, and she looked up to see Niam’s father, a great bear of a man whose black hair had developed a strip of gray, and whose sleek beard shined like a raven’s feathers.

            “You look beautiful, Sel.”

            “Thank you, Jon.”

            He smiled, his little gray eyes twinkling. Since her father didn’t want to leave Merlanye, it was his choice to step up and fill the role. And it was another spike in her heart.

            B*****d couldn’t be bothered to see me walk.

            The line ahead of them moved, and she took Jon’s arm before setting off. They passed row after row of Niam’s family and friends, who packed the white marble pews, but not one of her family members were there among the guests. She struggled to keep her smile. She might as well have been wearing a trash bag, considering her family all but threw her out the door.

            At the very front, Niam’s mother, Elyra, sat, her thick black waves done in a rather elegantly braided bun. Her bright blue eyes twinkled just like Jon’s, and her grin was, somehow, bigger than Lani’s. And not a few steps later, Sel stood with Jon before Niam and the white-robed clergywoman, who stood armed with a bell, her great Book on a golden stand.

            “Jon dan Risleif,” she called, her voice booming through the chapel, “do you give away this woman, in the place of her father, Alan Wolfend?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then let her come up and join the groom, our dear brother Niam.”

            Jon let her go, and Sel stepped up to the altar, where a great rose quartz figure of Kouella loomed over them all. Niam, whose dark, unruly hair had been slicked back, beamed at her. His black suit was well fitted, and the red tie matched Sel’s dress, as well as all the bright red calla lilies overflowing the otherwise white, well-lit chapel. Sel found it hard to breathe as he ate up the sight of her, but the clergywoman’s voice refocused her attention.

            “We are here to celebrate yet another beautiful bond under our holy matron, Kouella, mother of love and passion.”

            A wave of cheers and applause rippled through the crowd, and Sel looked out, scanning the various faces�"until she saw Devroz standing all the way in the back, leaning against the wall. He smiled and nodded to her.

            “Niam, Sel. Extend your hands.” She produced a red, soft chord. As they put their hands out, she tied the chord and said, “Let us begin the Song of Union.”

            Dozens of voices rose up with the clergywoman’s as she began singing old, sacred words of Kouella’s bonding. But she wasn’t focusing on the words. She mumbled along, just barely, allowing her attention to drift to the strange creature haunting the chapel. When Niam looked away, which was rare, she’d steal a glance at the silent mystic. He looked strange wearing color, but it was a color that suited him.

            The clergywoman rang her bells after each verse, and her free hand waved over the chorded couple, a few words in the Gods’ Tongue drifting low from her throat. It made Sel’s skin crawl, and she resisted the urge to tug her hand out of the chord.

            “In love, may the sun’s children find their Mother.”

            That was the final verse. It ended on a low note, and Sel’s heart began to race as the clergywoman began the vows.

            “Here, now, we bond these souls together. Repeat after me: ‘As the sun rises each day,’”

            “’As the sun rises each day,’”

            “’I shall rise with you. Your bed will never be empty when you wake.’”

            “’I shall rise with you. Your bed will never be empty when you wake.’” Her voice and Niam’s sounded strange, warbling over each other.

            “’As the sun sets,’”

            “’As the sun sets,’”

            “’I shall bring you to rest. You will never face the darkness alone.’”

            “’I shall bring you to rest. You will never face the darkness alone.’”

            “’And every moment in between,’” the clergywoman raised her hands up towards the sky, as if calling Kouella’s very gaze down on them. Sel thought she might be sick.

            “’And every moment in between,’”

            “’I will be forever yours, and yours alone. No man, nor woman, will break what Kouella, good Mother, has made.’”

            Sel struggled to repeat the last line. “’I will be forever yours, and yours alone. No man, nor woman, will break what Kouella, good Mother, has made.’”

            “These are the vows of matrimony, and these are the words Saint Fidelity has graced our ceremony with today. Niam, you have spoken these words. Do you believe them? Agree to their terms? Honor them, and your bride?”

            “I do.” He beamed like a fool. Sel almost felt happy that he was happy, but she was trying too hard not to cry again.

            “And Sel. What of you? Do you cast off your father’s name today?” Oh, I’d love to. “Do you believe these words, agree to them, and honor your groom?”

            The clergywoman’s bright green eyes burned into hers as she waited for an answer. Sel’s heart was practically in her throat, and she struggled to even breathe, let alone speak. She opened her mouth, and the words just began to croak free.

            “I-I�"“

            It was the middle of the afternoon. She stood there, embarrassed, in the middle of the afternoon, squeaking out the words. Niam looked at her with patience, adoration, even�"he mistook it all for nerves.

            It was the middle of the afternoon, and the chapel went black as a starless, moonless night�"black enough to swallow them all. Sel froze. She felt the chord, which had tied so tightly, slip off her arm, and she felt Niam slip away from her, cursing in the blind darkness. She heard a voice. A voice that whispered in her ear.

            “Run.”

            Heart pounding, Sel helplessly let her arm get gripped yet again, and she was dragged away from the altar, her feet stepping seemingly on their own. The skirt of her dress fluttered around her legs, smooth and soft against her skin, and her ankles miraculously didn’t twist in her heels as she hurried along with the person dragging her.

            For a brief moment, they paused, and a door flew open, sunlight shooting daggers into her wide, unaccustomed eyes. She squinted as she was shoved through it, stumbling across cobblestone into the slimy, damp wall of an alley.

            Gulls cried above. The air smelt of fish and salt water. And it was so terribly hot. Hot enough that Sel felt as though she couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest ached, her heart slammed, and her lungs could not get enough air. The slime of the wall made her look up to see the green fuzz against the red brick, and she drew away, disgusted. It stained her hands. Her ring-less, bare hands. And she whipped around to see her kidnapper leaning against the door, barely holding himself up, breathing hard enough to make any man sick. His hair had escaped the tie, and his glasses were in his hand.

            Sel’s entire scalp prickled. Her lungs refused to fill up any more.

            And she bristled.

            “Devroz!” Her voice was shrill, like the gulls above her. “Devroz, what the hell possessed you to do somethin’ that stupid? Move!”

            Her heels got stuck again in the bumpy cobblestone of the alley. She stumbled a bit, and in her rage, she bent over to rip them off before shoving Devroz off the door. He fell away from it like a leaf, and she ripped it open.

            Inside was a dusty collection of wooden tables and chairs. Not the hallway of the chapel.

            “We’re a bit far from the chapel,” Devroz muttered, finally regaining his breath.

            “Oh. Oh my word.” Sel’s hands floated up to cover her mouth.

            The wedding. The will. Daddy. Oh, s**t, Daddy’s gonna murder me.

Her hands flew back down by her sides as she seethed, her terror and anger mixing into something all but demonic, coiling tight in her gut. “What do you mean, ‘a bit far’? Damn it, Devroz! What are you playin’ at?”

            Her shrieks ripped through the alleyway, and she glanced behind her. People were starting to peer down the alley. People that were dressed completely differently from most of the Merlanyians she’d grown used to. Bright, bright colors adorned darker skinned, sun-rebellious bodies, big, tight, frizzy curls flowing from the heads of the women that passed by, and similar curls crowning the men in much shorter cuts. A little dog padded down the road.

            “Hush, Sel. You’re attracting attention.”

            “I’ll give you ‘attention’!” She whipped back around and stormed up to Devroz, pulling him upright with a grip strong enough to strangle a man. “Bring me back! Now! Whatever you did, you hell beast, undo it now!”

            His eyebrows shot straight up, and his mouth twisted into a barely contained smile. “Why the rush? I think you’ll like it well enough here.”

            Her face was red as her dress, she could feel the fiery burn in her cheeks. She sucked in a breath and clenched her fists. “Then at least have the decency to tell me where the hell ‘here’ even is!”

            “Poxami.”

            That one little word took a moment, but when it landed, it winded her, knocked all the air right back out of her lungs. “What?” She squeaked.

            “We’re in Poxami. The capital, Banavú. It’s by the sea. A really nice place, honestly.”

            Now it was Sel’s turn to lean against the wall. Her vision was spotting�"she couldn’t get a breath long enough to keep herself from going dizzy. “How? How? Tell me how.”

            “I hopped us.” He sounded sheepish.

            “What-how-I don’t�"“

            Sel slid down the wall, and Devroz quickly moved to hold her up. “Hush, sweetheart. Be still. You’re okay. I’m with you.”

            “Lot of good that does me, you idiot! Oh, my word. I can’t-I’m not�"”

            “Sel, shh. Breathe.”

            “No, I�"“

            “Then if you won’t breathe, sleep.”

            “Sleep? What? I�"“

            His hand covered her eyes, and her mind fogged, hazing over and melting her consciousness away, until there was nothing left at all.