The Bloodbound (36 page)

“Fine. You go ahead—I'll catch up.”

The men filed out of her room. Erik was last, and before he could leave, Alix grabbed his hand and gave it a tug. No words were needed. He threw his arms around her and held her close. They stayed like that for long moments, content in their stillness. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then he smiled, as bright and golden as the dawn.

They left together.

L
iam stared at himself in the mirror. The tailor hovered by nervously, awaiting the verdict. The man was very old, very proud, and very Andithyrian—in other words, he was not at all disposed to criticism of any sort. Anything less than wild enthusiasm for his creations could trigger an extended sulk, and with the wedding two days away, there was simply no time for that. Erik prayed that a month at court had been enough to teach his brother a modicum of tact. He prayed, but he feared.

Rig leaned against the table beside Erik, arms folded. “Gods' balls, Liam, I've seen noblewomen who primp less than you do.”

Then again, perhaps tact is not a function of time spent at court.
“You look very well,” Erik assured him.

“Easy for you to say. You're not the one getting married.”

Rig winced. Liam flushed and looked guiltily in the mirror. Erik watched it all from behind the wooden screen of his smile. “Perhaps not,” he said smoothly, “but I have rather a lot of experience being at the centre of official functions, and I can assure you that you look the part.”

“That's what I'm afraid of,” Liam said. “Are you sure I can't convince you to let me wear ceremonial armour?”

“Armour!” The tailor was visibly aghast. “How
vulgar
! Surely His Highness jests!”

Erik arched an eyebrow and gave Liam a significant look in the mirror. “He does.”

“Thanks be to the gods.” The tailor fluttered his pale little hand as though shooing a fly. “Really, Your Highness, you must put me out of my misery. Does the doublet please you or not?”

Liam cocked his head, considering. Rig groaned and rolled his eyes. Finally, Liam said, “I think it will be fine.”

“Fine.”
The tailor's colour heightened. “His Highness
thinks
it will be
fine
. I can hardly express how deeply gratified I am that my work should be so appreciated!
Stezaan!
” His assistant rushed over and held out a box, and the tailor threw a fistful of pins inside with such vigour that they stuck to the bottom like tiny spears. The tailor grabbed the box, snapped the lid shut, and stalked from the room, Stezaan scurrying behind.

Liam watched him go in the mirror. “I think he was being a bit sarcastic with me at the end there.”

“You could have humoured the man a little,” Erik said. “You know how he gets.”

Liam at least had the grace to look sheepish. “This just isn't me, is all.”

“You'll have to get used to it.” Erik put just enough edge in his voice to make it clear that he meant it.

“I don't know what you're grousing about anyway,” Rig said. “It's just one day out of your life. You'll be spending plenty of time in armour,
Commander
.”

“Speaking of which,
General
, when do I get to start recruiting?”

Rig shrugged. “Don't worry, you'll have plenty of good men to choose from. The White Wolves are still the most prestigious posting in the Kingswords.”

A knock sounded, and a servant entered bearing a package wrapped in silk. “As you requested, Your Majesty.”

“Ah, excellent. Look here, Liam, your gift has arrived.”

Liam cocked an eyebrow as he took the package from the servant. “My gift?”

“An early wedding present. Open it.”

Cautiously, Liam untied the cord and swept the fabric aside. “Silk wrapped in silk?”

Erik flicked his eyes skyward. “Take it out, Liam.”

Liam drew out the long, shining garment, his eyes widening as it fell loose. “Is this . . . a
cape
?” he asked in horror.

Erik frowned. “Of course it is. Look, I don't like them any better than you, but it's a wedding.”

“You didn't think you were going to get away with not wearing a cape?” Rig said. “Gods' blood, man, you're a
prince
!”

Liam stared dumbly at both of them. The dreaded cape drooped in his hands.

“Oh, here, give it to me.” Erik grabbed the cape and swept it grandly around Liam's shoulders, affixing it in place before standing back to admire his handiwork. “There.”

Liam gazed at his reflection in a state of mute disbelief. The fabric itself was bad enough, a deep purple silk so shiny that it almost looked metallic. It was trimmed in white lace, as elaborate as any ball gown, and amethysts glittered along the hem. But it was the collar that really made it: six inches high and ruffled, threaded with whalebone to make it stand straight up. It was the most dreadful thing Erik had ever seen.

Liam's expression was one of such perfect misery that Rig could no longer hold it together; he started sniggering into his beard. Erik made the mistake of looking over at him, and Rig lost it completely, nearly choking with laughter. Erik broke after that. “Gods, Black, you never could keep a straight face.”

“I'm sorry.” Rig swiped at his eyes. “The
look
on him, though . . .”

“Wait . . .” Liam looked from Rig to Erik and back. “Is this . . . ? This is a joke, isn't it? You're
joking
!” He scowled and fumbled with the clasp, tearing the cape off with such alacrity that Erik and Rig nearly doubled over with laughter.

Liam folded his arms, looking for all the world like a petulant two-year-old. “So this is what it means to have brothers, huh? Lucky me.”

“Oh, quit sulking,” Rig said. “Believe me, the prank I suggested was a lot worse.”

“It involved the Maiden's Pearl.”

Liam gave him a wary look. “The what?”

Rig started laughing again. Erik said, “I'll tell you when you're older.”

*   *   *

“Oh, Alix, it's
fabulous!” Kerta clapped her hands together and held them to her lips as she struggled not to cry. “How I love weddings!”

Alix did a little pirouette, enjoying the way the gown flared at her ankles. It seemed like an eternity since she had worn a dress. She felt young and beautiful and
female
. She hadn't realised how much she missed it. “I just hope I remember how to walk in heels.”

“Don't worry, a lady never forgets how to walk in heels. We'll practice here in your room, just to be sure.”

Alix smiled over her shoulder. She had grown rather fond of Kerta in recent weeks. Gwylim's death had brought them together in a way she wouldn't have thought possible. In her grief, Alix no longer found Kerta's effusions to be cloying. Gwylim deserved every tear, every sigh, every fond memory. And if she could still be a little sickly sweet for Alix's taste, at least Kerta was genuine. That was more than could be said of most people, especially at court. Alix had never met someone with a more generous heart, and she cringed to recall every petty, unkind thought she had ever had about Kerta Middlemarch. “Thank you for your help with the dress,” she said. “I'm so fortunate to be able to call upon your impeccable taste. You do your family credit.”

“Listen to you. I'd almost think you were trying to flatter me.”

Alix felt herself flush. “Maybe I feel like I have something to make up for. I haven't exactly been . . .”
Kind? Fair? In any way pleasant?
“. . . the easiest to get along with.”

Kerta shrugged. “You had a lot on your mind.” Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded sarcastic, but Alix didn't doubt for a moment that she was sincere.

“Actually,” Alix said, sweeping the dress aside so she could perch on the bed beside Kerta, “I had only one thing on my mind: Liam. I had no right to be jealous. I'm sorry about that.”

Kerta blinked, momentarily confused. Then she burst into laughter. “Alix, you can't be serious! Surely you didn't think there was something between Liam and me?”

Alix stirred uncomfortably. “Well . . . yes, actually, at least a little.”

“What in the world gave you that idea?”

“Liam, for one. I practically confronted him with it, and he didn't deny it . . .”

Kerta smiled. “Well, it wouldn't be the first time a spurned heart tried to make his ex-lover jealous.”

“I never spurned him,” Alix said quietly.

Kerta gathered Alix's hands in her own. “Liam has been yours since the moment he met you. We all saw it. Gwylim used to say . . . Well, never mind.” She smiled a secret smile. “Anyway, that's why it was so hard to see things going badly between you. Liam was a mess. You have never seen such brooding, Alix, I promise you. It was awful.”

Alix squirmed. She couldn't help wondering if Arran Green had been half as perceptive as Kerta. What must he have thought of her?

“I tried to be there for him,” Kerta said. “I listened, but that's all I could really do.” She gave Alix's hands a little tug. “Anyway, that's all in the past. It doesn't matter how you got here. What's important is that you're here now, and you're getting married.”

“In the middle of a war.” Not exactly ideal, but they'd wasted enough time, and after coming so close to losing one another . . . Besides, maybe Erik was right, and a royal wedding was just what the kingdom needed. There would be few enough bright spots in this season of gloom.

Kerta sobered. “You must be worried, now that he's commander of the Pack.”

“I'm not thrilled about it. But he's a prince now, and we're at war. He has duties. Besides, this is what he's always wanted, and it's not as though I'll be in the safest of places, either. Erik has no shortage of enemies.”

“In that case, it's a good thing he has you.”

“Kerta . . .” Alix's gaze dropped to her lap as a familiar ache tightened her chest. It was gentler these days, its edges smoothed by hours of endless worrying, but it was there all the same. It always would be. “When Liam was confiding in you, did he tell you . . . ?” She trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“About the king?” She squeezed Alix's hands gently. “What a pity that love can't be simple. The heart is a miraculous thing, isn't it? It can be completely full of love for one person, yet still find room for another.”

Alix smiled sadly. “How did you get to be so wise?”

“By observing the folly of others,” she said, and they both laughed.

A knock at the door, and Ide entered. She was dressed in her scouting leathers, as always, and her hair had been sawed off yet again. She looked like a teenaged boy.
However are we going to get her ready for the wedding?
Alix thought ruefully.

Oddly, Kerta didn't seem worried. “Oh, good, you're here! Show her the dress, Alix!”

Alix rose obligingly and gave a twirl, sending the silken folds swirling. The plunging back was exactly one half inch north of scandalous, which was sure to tax Liam's discipline for the many long hours of public pageantry ahead of them. It was a little bit of revenge for his constant teasing, especially in the bedroom.

“And the chain! Let's show her the chain!” Kerta handed over the marriage links, beaming.

Ide turned the necklace over in her hands. “Leather? Would've thought you'd have gold.”

“Liam insisted.” Alix didn't mind. Some would no doubt disapprove of the prince and his bride having their marriage links bound in leather like common peasants, but it suited them, and she liked the way the two gold loops contrasted with the dark leather thong. The only concession Liam had made to their station was to have a master goldsmith fashion the loops in the shape of two sprigs of ivy, just like the ring Alix wore on her little finger.

Ide held the chain up to Alix's throat, admiring it in the mirror. “Looks good.”

“It's
perfect
,” Kerta declared. “But you must give it to Rig right away. It's bad luck for the bride and groom to handle their chains too close to the ceremony.”

“Where's Liam's?” Ide asked.

“Erik has it.”

Kerta gave a sad little sigh. “It should be Arran Green.”

She was right. Arran Green was the closest thing to a father Liam had ever known. Liam would be missing him on their wedding day, Alix knew. They both would.

So many lost.
Gwylim. Arran Green. Adelbard Brown. Thousands more whose names she would never know. And still more war on the horizon . . . But not today, and not tomorrow, and that would have to be good enough for now.

They stayed silent for a moment, each lost in her own thoughts. Then Kerta swept to her feet and clapped her hands. “And now, my dear Alix, what shall we do with your hair?”

*   *   *

Erik was headed
for the courtyard when he came across Alix. She was hurrying down the corridor on her tiptoes, as though she were afraid to be caught. Her attempts to be quiet were somewhat frustrated by the clack of high heels and the rustle of raw silk.

“Why, Captain, exactly whom do you intend to sneak up on in that magnificent dress?”

“Bugger and
damn
!” Alix fairly threw down the hem of her gown in frustration.

He laughed. “Charming. Your King's Service has not tarnished your courtly polish, I see.”

“You weren't supposed to see me! Nobody was!”

“Did you imagine yourself invisible?”

She scowled. “I imagined that I was only going to be out here for a few seconds. I'm just going to fetch . . . Oh, never mind! I've got to hurry before Liam sees me! It's terribly bad luck for the groom to see the dress. Maybe it's even bad luck for the groom's brother to see the dress, and
what are you grinning at?
”

“Nothing at all, Captain. Except that I got my wish.”

“Your wish?”

“To see you in a gown. I had quite forgotten.” On cue, she flushed from head to toe, offsetting her dress in a most becoming fashion. It was really too easy. “Now if we can minimise the cursing, we'll be getting somewhere. I'm not hopeful, mind you. You Blacks really are an uncouth lot.” So saying, he flashed her a wink and continued on his way, perfectly aware of the smirk she directed at his retreating back.