Dark Lord's Wedding (34 page)

Hiresha smiled at him then frowned. If not for the juvenile decisions of the Ceiling of Elders, she might’ve been here to save Sri, to save Mister Obenji. Each word stung her tongue and chafed her throat.

“I regret I cannot live in Sunchase Hall.” In this facet it could never be. “I cannot even stay another hour. I’m going across the sea to marry, and I may never return.”

“Lustrous Enchantress, my rest will come easier knowing you will be married at last.”

His tone implied that she would’ve remained in some fraction a failure until marriage, yet she would let that pass. “Let us hope I find as much contentment in thirty years as you and Sri did in three.”

He tapped his lantern. The candle smelled of beeswax from the City of Gold, peachy and smooth. “Excuse this foolish thought of mine, but I wonder what would’ve happened if I had joined the goddess first. If Sri had lived beyond me.”

Tingles raced over Hiresha’s skin in spider-web patterns. Everything connected, from facet to facet, world to world. “She would’ve returned to her station as arbiter.”

“But, they would’ve reinstated her title?” He propped himself up on his cane, standing taller.

“Her position, if not her title, and she would’ve continued her good works even while missing you every day.”

“You believe so, Hiresha?”

“I know so.” She cupped the old man’s emaciated hand then flew backward out the door. Her red and blue diamonds spun ahead of her, and a pink hippo skimmed behind.

One-quarter of the way back over the Sea of Fangs, inspiration struck her in a blast that left her ears ringing. She arched her arms over her shoulders and revolved in circles above the heave of froth and salt.

How obvious it was. She could never abide Tethiel in one facet while battling him in the other. She had but one possibility to resolve the discord between her worlds. The solution would be brutal. Two nights from now, her wedding with Tethiel would begin. The day before, in her other facet, she would have to kill him.

“
In all the Empire’s better cities, the groom pays a bride price to her father. You may give it to me, to account for the wedding’s expenses.”

“
Where I was raised, the bride’s family paid the groom a dowry to be rid of her.”

“
I, being gracious, will overlook your savage upbringing.”

“
Don’t overlook my faults. What else is there to admire?”

“
Certainly not your logic. You have vaults full of ill-gotten gains, and I do not. It’s clear which marriage tradition should take precedence.”

Crocodiles pulled carts full of treasure. Jade blocks carved into gruesome hearts, the black gloss of hematite mirrors, bronze-inlaid chests glittering with myriad preserved insects, sheaths of the brightest feathers, masks of copper complete with wigs of real hair, jaguar skins, and gold coin from the Empire, the hoard rumbled down the city’s streets.

Chains bound the spoils to the crocodiles with spiked harnesses. Each of the beasts was longer than fifteen feet. The reptiles lifted their hulks off their bellies to walk with a prowling stride. Women dashed their children out of the way. Their shrieks of surprise ended in cries of excitement. The fearsome size of the crocodiles was mitigated by the colored patterns painted on the square scales of their tales and the round ones down their backs. Each monster walked with mouth open, and between the jaws a bird of paradise preened itself.

Hiresha had to concede that Tethiel had done well. What a cool upwelling of relief that the wedding would be paid for. She could marry without owing anything to anyone. She breathed in, and even the city smelled less loathsome. To be fair, that was in part due to the incense burning on the crocodiles’ backs. The smoldering sweetness coated the back of her throat.

“We’ll capture their minds,” Tethiel had said before the procession. “People will talk of our wedding for centuries.”

“Yes.” Hiresha turned away, lest he sense she plotted against him in the other facet. He could misinterpret her thoughts, believe she wished his death in this world as well. She could scarcely breathe through her forced smile. Worrying about it would only give him more opportunity to know.

He rode at the front of the treasure parade on his basilisk. He had blindfolded the monster with red ribbons. She traveled at the end of the procession in a pavilion held between the spines of her amethyst dragon.

This time, people didn’t run. They gasped. They cried out in fright and wonder.

“Bigger big caiman!” A child with half her face painted pointed at the dragon.

“That’s no caiman,” her mother said. She swayed as she blinked up, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her child in her hip sling.

Hiresha threw down festive armfuls of rat poison. The pellets fanned out from her fingers in white arcs. They rained amongst the people, who threw up their arms and laughed in high squeals. A child grubbed some of the poison into his mouth. Fortunate for him that Hiresha had planned for this eventuality. Unless her test results were wrong, the worm-briar extract additive would be too pungent for humans to stomach, and indeed, the child spat all the poison out.

To the rats and roaches, it would taste only as bad as rotten cheese. The city would have a little less scurrying on the night of her wedding.

Hiresha wouldn’t have to think of those clawed feet clattering about, up her legs and over her back with cold pinching. There was no reason to imagine a tide of vermin flooding her wedding palace, except that’s all she could see. Something had gone wrong. Something wasn’t right.

Maybe even all the treasures wouldn’t be enough to pay for the wedding. That might be what was bothering her. She would estimate the value.

The riches, they didn’t sit still in their chests and vases, even accounting for the rumble of their carts. The feathers squirmed. One moment, there were seventy-three together, and the next, only seventy-two. Coins disappeared as well only to blink back. There was nothing definite, nothing solid and countable, only a glittering impression of wealth. The onlookers likely wouldn’t notice the discrepancies, yet each stuck Hiresha in the eye.

None of the treasure was anything but false. Tethiel could pay only in the coin of illusion.

She glowered at him while the procession arrayed itself around the wedding palace. His basilisk reared, its four forelegs clawing at the air. “May ill-fortune flee,” he said to the crowds. “Be gone, bad luck. Tomorrow night, the Lady of Gems will wed, and the world will tremble with happiness.”

With his signal, all the Feasters bearing torches banged them together and screamed. Sparks whipped about. Hair started smoldering. The crocodiles thrashed against their harnesses. The birds of paradise flew free. Now was when Hiresha was to unfurl her dragon’s wings. This should’ve been a peerless moment.

It was ruined. Hiresha flung away the last of her rat poison.

She lifted her hand, one bent into a hook shape. The dragon heaved upright with an echoing ping. Its wings slid forward from its back. They spread outward. They shadowed city blocks from the moonlight. Then they opened again, redoubling their size.

People pushed forward for a better look. Others scrambled backward. The wings started to beat. Women fell over, likely more from shock than the force of wind. Children held their ears against the boom and crack.

Hiresha should not have to display herself and her masterworks. If only the kings could’ve been trusted to respect her enough to leave her alone, then all this exposition wouldn’t be necessary. Stitching in the canvas wings frayed and unraveled. Every broken thread tore at her.

The agony only worsened when the treasure carts rolled into the wedding palace. The glass walls clouded, dazzling those outside with ominous patterns. No one could see inside when the crocodiles turned into normal mules and the riches vanished.

“Tethiel, is this how we’ll pay for the wedding? With cobwebs and lies?”

“True nobility is always in debt,” he said. “We’re well on our way to royalty.”

“I pay my debts. We can auction off the extra silver-tier invitations. That’ll defray some—”

“Those keys are gone,” he said. “I told you, I was giving to sorry souls.”

“How am I to explain to the vendors? You’ve shown them all the wealth we don’t have.”

“Flatter them by doubling all our orders. The only salve for the debtor is extravagance.”

Hiresha flung one empty cart end over end. “This is your bride price? Is this how you value me?”

The wagon’s breaking timbers made the mules whimper and hee-haw.

“My heart, you’re worth the world.” Tethiel met her gaze. “Far more than a few baubles in carts.”

“You promised funds.”

“I failed you, but I did not lie. These carts left Stillness Resounding with treasure. They were full with more than magic.”

“So you say.”

“One of my children betrayed me,” he said. “The carts were waylaid by Bright Palms.”

“They stole from us?” The muscles in Hiresha’s legs and abdomen tightened into a twitching torment that bent her over. She would have to ask. He had better not give her the expected answer. “What did the Bright Palms do with the treasure?”

“Burned it, mostly. They gave all the gold to the nearest temples.”

“And trying to take it back would turn everyone against us.” That was, she decided, if there had been any gold and riches in the first place. Tethiel could be lying to her face, shaping a reality to please her.

Maybe killing him in one facet wouldn’t be enough. No betrayal would be too great. She could marry another and rid the worlds of him forever. She could do it. Hiresha had that power; she was nearly certain. She would implode him if he lied.

She would find out the truth.

Hiresha careened out of the palace doors and leaped. She left her dragon behind. Flying atop it would be too slow. Her paragon jewels hurtled forward, and she screamed through the sky.

The doorway to the sanctum stank from rotting Feasters. Hiresha glanced at the sorry men and women who had been hammered against a wall; it bore many notches from nails. The Bright Palms had executed Feasters here for years and left them to swell and drip their putrescence beside the threshold. No wonder so many people were ill inside on reed pallets.

A leper, one not beholden to Tethiel, guided Hiresha through the sanctum. The diseased man brought her to Bright Palm Alyla, which was half a surprise. Alyla had been sent an invitation, and she would need to be close to attend the wedding. The unexpected part was that a Bright Palm would consent to come at all.

“I couldn’t help but notice that sanitation disaster you left hanging outside,” Hiresha said. “How did you stumble upon those Feasters?”

A vein in Alyla’s arm shone through her sackcloth shirt. Without explanation or preamble, she stripped off her clothes. Another Bright Palm walked forward with a dress. Alyla lifted the skirt over her head and spoke.

“They were in a caravan.”

“A train of carts and mules?” Hiresha asked.

“Yes.” The dress slipped down over Alyla’s gaunt frame. She had always been lean, yet for the first time since Hiresha had met her as a youth, Alyla’s torso was free of pregnancy marks. Alyla had been mortified of other people seeing them. The flame-pattern stripes that had scarred her belly and thighs had receded. The magic pulsing through her must have regenerative properties, Hiresha concluded, in addition to its quick healing and emotion stunting.