The roar of assent was more than enough to drown out any few dissenters. Shalaman bowed slightly in acknowledgment, and turned to Winterhart. He pitched his voice deeply, so as to be heard over the crowd noise.
“Would you give me back the Necklace, my dear?” he asked, looking into her strange, foreign eyes.
She smiled and pulled it off over her head, handing it to him with relief that she did not even try to conceal.
She is soul-bonded to Amberdrake. Surely if something had happened to him, she would know. Wouldn’t she?
He took the Necklace, and walked to Silver Veil’s side of the platform, where she stood flanked by Palisar and Leyuet. One thing at a time, and the first thing must be Silver Veil. She looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt.
Unhurt—except for the fear she had felt for his sake, the shadows of which still lingered in her eyes. That was enough; it gave him all the insight that he needed to see into his own heart.
I never wanted Winterhart. I will find a solution for the problems this will make, later. I will not let this opportunity escape.
“You would have died for me,” he said, as the crowd quieted, sensing more drama to come. He felt their presence at his back, heavy, uncomprehending—but in the joy of the moment, willing to accept anything he decreed. He was the King, and this was the time of changes.
She nodded; Leyuet held his breath. But Palisar, grim, dour Palisar, was—was he smiling? And would he remain smiling when he saw what Shalaman meant to do?
“You would have died for me. Would you live for me as well?” he asked. “Would you live for me only?”
He held out the Necklace to her, keeping his eyes on her face and nothing else.
She did not feign surprise, nor did she affect a coy shyness. She was too complex for the former and too honest for the latter. But her eyes lit up with a joy that told him everything he needed to know.
His heart’s desire had matched hers, and she had kept hers hidden all this time to avoid putting pressure on him. He knew that as if he had been a Truthsayer, to read her soul.
Her joy was doubled by the fact that she had never truly expected to have that heart’s desire fulfilled.
“I would, my King,” she said simply, “If you will have me.”
He raised the Necklace high overhead, then lowered it to place it around her neck as she bent her head to receive it.
Shalaman spared a glance to his other two Advisors. Leyuet’s hands were clasped in front of him and his face was alive with pleasure—but oddly enough, so was Palisar’s!
“You have Year-Sons enough to choose an heir, Serenity,” Palisar said, very softly. “Marry now for joy.”
That had been the final real obstacle; Palisar’s supposed disapproval had fallen like a card balanced upon one edge, and with as little fuss.
He took Silver Veil’s hand and led her to the edge of the platform. Once again, a complete silence fell over the crowd.
“To help flush out the murderer, Lady Winterhart posed as my bride-to-be, and honorable Amberdrake feigned madness in a plan to lure the true madman. Let it be known that the honorable leaders of White Gryphon risked their lives and reputations to save Haighlei from murder. Let it be known that the gods themselves have blessed this Palace with a Soulbonded pair—Lady Winterhart and Kestra’chern Amberdrake.”
The people were clearly stunned, even after mentally preparing themselves for the Eclipse Ceremony and all that it entailed. “This is the season of changes,” he said into that silence. “And let it begin with the King wedding his beloved Silver Veil!”
The crowd went insane, cheering and bouncing in place, waving scarves in the air where there was room to move. Even the guards were smiling!
He had not realized that Silver Veil was so popular with the people—all the more reason to wed her! A King could not do better with his people, if his Consort proved to be a popular Advisor, popular with the people as well as the nobles.
She moved to the position that Winterhart had held during the first half of the ceremony. Winterhart had already fallen modestly back to a new place beside the weary Gryphon King.
Shalaman surveyed his cheering, joyous people, as the sun brightened with every passing moment, and his heart filled with a content he had never expected to experience.
He held up the staff, and they fell silent again, this time in pleasurable expectation.
“Hear, all ye people, the changes that are to come!” he boomed into the stillness. “We shall ally with the people of White Gryphon, who bring us new arts and new beasts, a touch of the new to every part of our land and life. We add another King to the Haighlei, Skandranon, the Black Gryphon. I take as my bride, my Consort, and my Advisor, the Silver Veil. From this day, it will be allowable that a King may choose to wed his kestra’chern.”
He continued, enumerating all the changes, great and small, that he and his Advisors had determined would be reasonable and acceptable for the next years. The litany went on, but his real thoughts were elsewhere.
I have been given my life by these strangers, he thought, And—I have been given awareness of my true love. What more could they have given me? I will be in debt to them for the rest of my life, but it is a debt I will joyfully strive to repay.
Shalaman felt the supporting presence of his beloved and his friends at his back, and smiled at the crowd. He even smiled at Skandranon’s grumbling.
“I hope this is over soon. I’m scheduled to fall down and twitch,” the gryphon murmured. “Then I’m due to eat everything in sight and sleep for two days, and then—”
Shalaman stifled a laugh at the explicit description of what the Gryphon King would be doing with his mate Zhaneel. These people of White Gryphon would shock and delight his Court for a long time.
Only one shadow still darkened his joy.
Where was Amberdrake?
Eleven
Amberdrake worked the last of his bonds loose, and stood up, hands and feet still tingling. He wished he could ignore the sensation; the best he could do was to keep from making too much noise about it.
Now—-find those others Hadanelith mentioned. There are probably two; maybe more, but he talked as if there were only two.
If anyone had ever described Amberdrake to his face as a courageous man, he would have laughed. He had never considered bravery to be one of his chief attributes; that was for others, not for him. He was able to recognize bravery when he saw it, but it was never a quality he would have granted to himself. He was often afraid, and knew it, and did not scruple to show it. Not that brave people weren’t afraid, but they were able to get beyond their fear to act. Amberdrake knew, in his heart, that fear often paralyzed him.