Iron and Magic (The Iron Covenant #1)(25)

She’d also confirmed something he’d suspected when she discussed the arrangements for the wedding. Elara didn’t want him to see her in the wedding dress. It was a stupid tradition, but she clung to it. It was her first wedding, Hugh was sure, and like most women, she likely planned it since childhood, complete with sappy music and the release of doves.

The void bit at him. He blocked it off.

The castle harpy wanted a special moment. The ring would demonstrate that he took it seriously. For all he knew, she’d throw it in his face. His gaze snagged on the videographer filming the crowd. Maybe not in front of the cameras.

Stoyan took his place on his right. Bale handed him Hugh’s sword, and Stoyan held it in front of him, point down. A long-standing tradition among the Iron Dogs, established by Voron, Roland’s previous Warlord, who’d begun the order. Another void bite. Voron who had raised him.

The ghost stared at him from his memories.

I killed you because Roland willed it.

Hugh forced the memories down, concentrating on the weapon to keep them at bay. He missed his old sword, but the one Stoyan was holding for him now wasn’t bad. Thirty-three and three quarters of an inch-long blade with a simple cross guard and a four-and-a-half-inch grip wrapped with cord. At two and a half pounds, it was meant to be used from horseback, but it was lively enough for him until he found something better.

He glanced over at Elara’s side. Johanna stood in the Maid of Honor spot in a pastel-pink gown, holding a bouquet of pretty white flowers. She smiled at him and gave him a little wave with her free hand.

He shrugged.

Johanna tucked the bouquet under her arm. Her fingers moved. “Scared?”

He mimicked laughing.

The flaps of the tent opened. Music came from the speakers. It sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t the wedding march he’d expected. Hugh frowned. He’d heard it before…

Walking in My Shoes by Depeche Mode.

Lamar smiled.

“Your idea?” Hugh asked.

“It was a joint effort between me and Dugas. You said to pick something appropriate.”

Elara stepped out.

She wore a simple white gown that hugged her waist and cradled her breasts before flaring down into a wide skirt. Her white hair fell on her shoulders in loose waves. A silver circlet studded with shiny stones rode on her head.

He saw her face.

Wow.

Elara glided down the aisle, feminine and graceful. Regal. She walked alone, and he realized the significance of it. She was giving herself away of her own free will. There was no father. Nobody had the right to walk her down the aisle.

Every gaze followed her. As she moved between his people and hers, the unease vanished from the Dogs. They watched her the way they would watch a clear sunrise after a night storm. Elara smiled at them, and they smiled back.

That’s why her people followed her, Hugh realized. This was it, right here.

She walked up to the altar, beautiful like a vision. He was marrying a queen from a fairy tale.

Hugh held his hand out to her. She put her fingers into his and together they walked up three steps to the altar. She smiled at him, and something in his chest moved.

He had to break the illusion, so he made his mouth work. “Nobody to walk you down the aisle?”

Elara didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on the pastor. “I don’t need anyone to give me away.”

He needed more. She was still too beautiful, too regal, too much.

“Aren’t you supposed to have some little kids running around throwing flowers? Or did you sacrifice them on the way?”

Her face jerked. “Yes, I did. And I devoured their souls.”

There she was. “Good to know. The photographer is snapping pictures. Say cheese, love.”

Elara gave him a brilliant happy smile. “Cheese, dickhead.”

He did his best to look the way a groom might if he was actually marrying this creature and imagining getting her out of that gown tonight. “Rabid harpy.”

“Bastard.”

The pastor, a man in his thirties with dark hair and glasses, stared at them, his mouth slack.

“Start the ceremony,” Hugh told him, putting some menace into his voice.

“Before we kill each other,” Elara said.

The pastor cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved…”

Elara turned to Hugh, her face glowing with happiness. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought it was real.

“…in matrimony commended to be honorable…”

Hugh reached deep, looked back at her with the same affection and saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Ha.

“…these two people decided to live their lives as one.”

Perish the thought, he mouthed.

Shut up, she mouthed back with that same dazzling smile.

“If any person knows of a just reason why these two should not be joined together, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence. Good. Perhaps he would get through this without killing anyone.

“Hugh d’Ambray, do you, with your friends and family as witnesses, present yourself willingly and of your own accord to be joined in marriage?”

“I do.”

“Elara Harper, do you, with your friends and family as witnesses, present yourself willingly and of your own accord to be joined in marriage?”