The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(114)

“Not then. Now. Tonight.” Cedric hesitated. “I mean, if you want to get married.”

I craned my head back and tried to determine if he was serious. “How is that possible? We aren’t allowed to.”

“Only in Warren’s contract are we not allowed to. Legally, if a magistrate will do it, we can. Robert—that’s his name—will do it and keep it secret.”

“Okay . . .” His enthusiasm was contagious, but I still didn’t understand the entire plan. “If it’s secret, what’s the point? I mean, aside from the obvious joy of us being bound forever.”

“The point is that if Silas Garrett’s friend shows up and outs you, then Robert produces the documents that prove our marriage,” Cedric explained. “It’ll create a lot of hassle with Warren and his contract if we haven’t settled those financial matters yet, but your grandmother won’t have a claim on you anymore as a married woman.”

“And that ‘hassle’ with Warren is the reason we have to keep it secret in the meantime,” I realized. “It . . . it’s a backup plan.”

“Exactly. Assuming you’re okay with an impromptu marriage. Once this all works out, we can have another ceremony with our friends. If we find enough gold, Father might forgive us and let you wear one of your Glittering Court dresses.”

“I don’t even know if I remember how to lace one of those up,” I said, laughing. “I don’t need it. I just need you.”

He leaned forward and kissed my neck, his arms tightening around my waist. “Careful,” I said. “We’re not married yet.”



Back at the claim, things were about what I’d expected. The river had flooded, overturning the sluices. They were still intact, at least, and easy to set back up. The shanty had been completely flattened. Most of Cedric’s belongings had been soaked, except for what was in his trunk. The rickety old stove had also survived. It seemed to be impervious.

Everything else was put on hold as we worked to get the shanty put back together. I wasn’t very good at that sort of thing, but, as it turned out, neither was Cedric. Now I understood why it had taken him three days to get the shack in the shape it had been. By evening, we’d done as many repairs as we could with what we had. He’d have to replace the bed and a few other items, but at least he sort of had a roof again.

I looked up at the darkened sky. “It’s past when we usually go back. I hope the Marshalls don’t come looking for me.”

“We’ll tell them we got caught up in the repairs. And we have bigger things now. Look.” Cedric pointed toward the trail that led to his property, and I saw Robert the magistrate riding toward us. He waved a hand in greeting.

A tremor of nervousness ran through me. “I can’t believe this is really going to happen.”

Cedric slipped an arm around me. “You can still change your mind. And you might want to—I’d hoped to do an Alanzan rite, if that’s okay. He could do a civil service if you wanted.”

I had only the briefest flash of that old fear, of dark rituals around a fire. Then those thoughts were banished. “The means don’t matter. As long as I get to pledge myself to you, I’ll be happy.”

It was a little surreal when Robert dismounted and donned a robe of black and white, so very different from the glittering vestments worn by the priests of Uros. Equally strange was the thought of an outdoor wedding. It seemed so casual compared to the formal processions and long services performed in the great cathedrals of Uros.

For the briefest of moments, I was taken away from this nighttime wilderness and remembered what it was like to sit between my parents in the pews of the King’s Crest Cathedral, the wood hard and golden from years of use. Enormous candelabras. Rainbows of stained glass covering the walls. We’d gone to dozens of noble weddings in my childhood, and I’d see my mother scrutinizing every detail of each bride’s attire, from her slippers to the enormous train trailing several feet behind her. And I could always tell my mother was mentally planning my wedding, deciding what would look best on me. Velvet or silk for the gown? Beadwork or embroidery on the train?

That long-ago idea rose up in me that at any moment my parents were going to walk through the door. I found myself looking toward the trailhead, like they might suddenly appear there. But my parents weren’t here. Neither was Grandmama. I wasn’t even wearing a dress.

“Adelaide?”

Cedric drew my attention back to him. One eyebrow was raised in question. No doubt he was thinking I’d changed my mind. Looking at him, at that beloved face, eased the weight of the ghosts that had settled on me. They weren’t gone. They never would be. But they were part of the past, and I couldn’t change that. It was the future I looked to now. The future I had chosen. The future I saw in Cedric’s eyes.

We held hands as Robert recited the words of the Alanzan ceremony. It was sweet and beautiful, speaking of how the joining of two people was part of the natural order of things. It made our union seem greater than us . . . like we now shared a part of some powerful, heavenly secret. Above us, a full moon shone down, and I remembered Mira saying that was a fortuitous omen for Alanzan weddings.

When Robert had finished reciting his words, it was time for us to recite ours. But first, he placed a circlet of bishop’s lace around our clasped hands. We tightened our hold as the frilly white flowers encircled our wrists. Then, I learned the full wording of the vows Cedric had once mentioned: