Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(65)

The sincerity in her voice and the love in her eyes made me feel as though I was in a dream from which I never wanted to awaken.

The priest turned to me. “Your turn, Sir Gunnar.”

I smiled down at Mikaela, hoping she could see my love for her too. “I, Gunnar, take thee, Mikaela, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death us do part . . .”

I paused, then continued with my own vow. “I promise that nothing else matters to me except that we are together through the joys and trials of life, nevermore to be apart.”

Her smile widened and brought solace to my soul.

“According to God’s holy ordinance. Thereto I give thee my troth.” I bent my head and brushed my lips against hers with a kiss that was only the beginning of forever.





Chapter

32





Mikaela


As I walked down the aisle toward the dais where King Ansgar and Queen Lis sat on their thrones, I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I was awake and not dreaming, but my hands were trembling too much, and I didn’t dare remove them from Gunnar’s arm. I was thankful now more than ever that Lady Lindseth had offered me one of her gowns to wear at court. The exquisite garment was pale pink with a jeweled bodice and a flowing train.

I wasn’t accustomed to such luxury, but Gunnar had assured me that I was beautiful in anything, whether frayed rags or fine linen. And I knew he wasn’t merely flattering me, because he looked at me the same—with love and appreciation—no matter what I wore.

Gunnar had dressed in his best too, in wool leggings, a tailored surcote over his shirt, a belt slung low around his waist, and his golden sword pin. Even though he’d groomed his hair earlier, it flopped over his forehead, begging me to comb my fingers through it.

We’d arrived in Vordinberg only an hour ago. Upon our entrance into the royal castle, we’d been greeted by his fellow Knights of Brethren. There had been much back slapping and teasing the Slayer that he’d finally been slain. All the knights were present except for Torvald, who was still at his family estate at Wahlburg Castle.

According to Gunnar, Torvald’s father had arranged a marriage for him to help save his family fortune. Torvald hadn’t wanted to marry, but he’d returned home out of duty and planned to resume his duties as a Knight of Brethren after his affairs were in order—at least until he completed his mission to find the chalice.

I knew Gunnar also wanted to continue his work as a Knight of Brethren, but I’d learned the that once a Brethren got married, he was expected to retire from his position and go home to live with his wife and family.

Though I worried he might eventually regret marrying me and giving up his place in service to the king, he’d reassured me in a hundred beautiful ways over the past few days since our wedding that I was more important to him than anything else. He was already living out his vow that nothing else mattered except that we were together through the joys and trials of life.

Now, as we approached the king and queen, I could only pray they would have mercy upon Gunnar for marrying a woman like me.

At the moment, the king, a strong and imposing man, didn’t seem to be paying us any heed. Instead, he held his wife’s hand, their fingers laced together intimately. He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, something that made her smile.

The queen lived up to the rumors of her beauty. Even though she wore a golden circlet around her head and sheer veil, nothing could hide the gloriousness of her long, reddish-blond hair. Her face was pale and thin—no doubt from her illness—but her green eyes danced with a spark of life that told me she was every bit as strong and independent as the tales declared.

Behind the king and queen stood another couple, both attired in the black robes belonging to wisemen—and wisewomen. I guessed they were Maxim and Princess Elinor, the advisors to the king and queen. They, like the royal couple, stood hand in hand, clearly a strong force.

Next to the king’s right hand was another man, one I hardly recognized. So changed was his appearance that, if not for the scars on his face, I wouldn’t have known he was Sven. His gray hair was cut and combed into neat submission, his face was cleanly shaven but for a small beard, and he was attired in tailored garments of bright blue and red and gold.

As we stopped at the bottom step of the dais, Sven nodded at me, his eyes filled with the warmth of a loving grandfather. Somehow his acceptance served to calm the flock of birds trying to take flight in my stomach.

As King Ansgar’s attention shifted to us, his expression was guarded. Was he upset at his trusted knight for choosing marriage over duty to king and country?

“Gunnar, welcome back,” the king said in the now quiet hall, which was empty of all but the Brethren.

Gunnar bowed, then as he straightened, he smiled down at me. “Your Majesty, I present to you my wife, the love of my life.”

I smiled back, drawing strength from his love as I had over the past days. Then I curtsied before the king and queen.

“Welcome, Mikaela.” The queen was the first to speak. “We have heard much about your valor from Sven. He speaks highly of you.”

I again exchanged a look with Sven. His eyes held deep gratitude.

“If not for you, Sven would still be a prisoner of the jotunn,” the king continued. “He indicated that you sacrificed greatly to set him free.”