Chapter 342: The Evening Before

On May eleventh, Dorevan asked Eleanor whether all human inventions required quite so many straps.

“Only the ones carrying humans through the air,” she replied.

They were standing in the eastern field beside a wooden frame padded with folded blankets.

I had come expecting a discussion about landing grounds.

Instead, I found Perrin sitting in the frame while Eleanor pulled on a buckle near his shoulder.

“Why are you in that?” I asked.

“A question I have asked several times.”

“He volunteered,” Eleanor said.

“For measuring.”

Dorevan lowered his bronze head until one eye was level with Perrin.

“Are you frightened of heights?”

“Not while I remain at this one.”

The frame was meant to carry an injured passenger without requiring that person to cling to a dragon’s back.

It was nowhere near ready.

Eleanor knew it. Dorevan knew it. Perrin appeared determined that everyone else should know it too.

The problem was not simply attaching a seat.

Dorevan’s shoulders moved when he flew. His scales shifted over muscle. A strap that sat comfortably while he rested might tighten across the base of a wing when he took off.

He had already rejected two arrangements.

Eleanor had rejected the third herself.

“Supplies first,” she said. “We test the loads with supplies.”

“Stones,” Perrin suggested.

“Weighted sacks.”

“Excellent passengers. Very few complaints.”

Dorevan made a low, amused sound.

I looked toward Aurethar, who was examining a drawing with one of the leatherworkers.

“Has he decided to stay?” I asked quietly.

“He has decided this is an interesting problem.”

Across the field, Dorevan asked Eleanor to show him where the load would sit during a turn.

Aurethar smiled.

“For now, I would accept that.”

Sareth returned before midday.

She landed well away from the work, drank enough water to empty one of the larger troughs, and asked whether Harun’s families had reached their beds.

Mary had brought the final receiving lists.

“All two hundred and sixteen,” she told her. “There were two changes of destination so relatives could remain together. Everyone is accounted for.”

Sareth rested her chin on her folded forelegs.

“Good.”

For several breaths, she said nothing else.

Then she looked toward Thor.

“You mentioned another road.”

Thor crouched beside the map board.

“Melody’s party. They are bringing children out of the mountain settlements.”

Sareth studied the distance.

“I could reach them sooner than your wagons.”

“The escort is already moving,” Thor said. “You could help them find the safest way back.”

“I will go after I have rested.”

Aurethar stepped closer.

“I will go with you. I know the western approach.”

I looked at him.

He knew what I was thinking.

“We will try to be back.”

“Bring Melody with you if you can.”

“That depends on whether she agrees to leave the children.”

Thor snorted.

“Then bring the children.”

That afternoon, Aurelia came to discuss the ceremony.

She found the three of us in our sitting room with half a page of vows between us.

The other half had been crossed out.

“Trouble?” she asked.

“Uriah wrote something that sounded like a border agreement,” Evelyn said.

“It was one sentence.”

Adriana turned the paper toward Aurelia.

My ancestor read it.

Then she looked at me.

“Were witnesses required for the transfer of grazing rights?”

Evelyn laughed so hard she had to put down her cup.

I took the paper back.

“I thought clarity was important.”

“It is,” Aurelia said. “So tell them what you mean.”

Adriana’s smile faded a little as she looked at the crossed-out lines.

“What happens to the promises they have already made?”

Aurelia sat opposite us.

“They remain.”

Evelyn reached for Adriana’s hand.

“I don’t want you to feel you are standing outside something,” Adriana said. “Either of you.”

“Then we will be careful with the words,” Aurelia replied. “Uriah and Evelyn can affirm their marriage. You and Uriah will make your vows to one another. You and Evelyn will make yours. Then all three of you will speak the promises you intend to keep together.”

Adriana considered that.

“I would like to say hers myself.”

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around hers.

“I would like that too.”

Aurelia looked at me.

“And you?”

I put the paper down.

“I want them both to know they can depend on me. That I will listen when they are unhappy, even when I am the reason. That I will come home when I can, and not make them beg me to take care of myself.”

Evelyn’s expression softened.

Adriana leaned against me.

Aurelia tapped the abandoned page.

“Begin there.”

May twelfth brought rain.

It drummed against the windows, turned the yard to mud, and made me increasingly aware of how many people believed the god of storms should be able to arrange a wedding forecast.

“Can you?” Cassia asked over breakfast.

“Probably.”

“That sounds encouraging.”

“Moving rain here can mean moving it somewhere else.”

She looked through the window.

“The chapel has a roof.”

“An excellent feature.”

Across the table, Carol solemnly fed Garrick a piece of toast he had been holding a moment earlier.

Ignatius watched, tried the same thing with Seraphina, and lost his toast.

Julian divided another slice before a dispute could begin.

“You don’t have to settle everything,” I told him.

He looked at the four of them.

“This one was easy.”

Garrick Valewood handed him the butter.

“Then settle your own breakfast next.”

Julian obeyed.

The rain delayed the mountain party.

By evening, we knew they had reached an abandoned shepherd’s shelter below the pass. The escort had joined them there, but one of the carts had broken an axle.

There were nineteen children, six accompanying relatives, three dwarven guides, and an elven healer who had stayed with the group after the fighting drove them from the upper road.

Melody’s message was brief.

We have shelter. We need another cart. The smallest ones are warm. Do not let Mary decide that means I am cold.

Mary read the final sentence without changing expression.

Then she ordered more blankets sent with the replacement.

Thor did not comment.

She helped choose the escort.

That night, I found Julian alone in the small sitting room.

Roderic’s helmet rested on the table before him.

For a moment, I stopped in the doorway.

Julian noticed.

“It hasn’t done anything.”

I entered and sat beside him.

“All right.”

He ran a finger along a worn edge.

“I thought I might bring it tomorrow. To the practice.”

“Would you like to?”

“I don’t know.”

His shoulders rose, then fell.

“I thought Adriana might like Father to be there somehow.”

I looked at the helmet.

Then at the book lying beside it.

“Have you asked her?”

He shook his head.

“We could.”

Julian was quiet for a while.

“Do you think she will cry?”

“She might.”

“I don’t want to make her sad at her wedding.”

I rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Missing him is already part of the day for her.”

He looked toward the door as Garrick Valewood appeared carrying two cups.

The older man took in the helmet, the book, and Julian’s face.

Then he set a cup beside him.

“Warm milk,” he said. “Before you ask, no, you are not too old.”

Julian accepted it with both hands.

Garrick sat on his other side.

We stayed there until Julian was ready to find his sister.

Adriana chose the book.

She held the helmet for a little while first, with Mirelle seated beside her.

Then she gave it back to Julian.

“Will you keep this safe for me?”

He nodded.

She opened the book to the account of her parents’ wedding.

“I would like Mother to read this before we go into the chapel. Just us.”

Mirelle touched the page.

“Of course.”

Julian looked relieved.

Then Adriana caught his sleeve.

“And I want you to enjoy the wedding. You are allowed to laugh. Even if Mother and I cry.”

“What if Cassia cries?”

From the doorway, Cassia folded her arms.

“Then you will display the discretion expected of a prince.”

Julian smiled.

“I will ask Grandfather what that means.”

“A dangerous escalation,” I murmured.

On the afternoon of May thirteenth, the first report arrived from Aurethar.

He and Sareth had found the escort.

They had also found soldiers searching the lower approaches.

The dragons had watched from above while the guides took the children through a narrow wooded valley. Sareth carried blankets and food from the supply wagon to the shelter, making two trips while the replacement cart came forward.

She had carried no passengers.

Eleanor, reading over my shoulder, nodded once at that detail.

The enemy never reached the children.

By the time its scouts found the abandoned shelter, the party had gone.

Aurethar’s final line was less formal.

Melody says she has not worn the third cloak. This is technically true. It is currently wrapped around two children.

Mary took the letter from me.

This time, she smiled.

The wedding practice that evening was shorter than anyone expected.

Adriana knew where to walk.

Mirelle knew where to stand.

Cassia remembered to slow down, and Julian remembered that he did not need to watch everyone’s feet.

I went to the wrong side of Evelyn once.

She said nothing.

Her expression was enough.

“I have corrected it,” I told her.

“Before the grazing rights were exchanged,” she said.

Adriana laughed.

Aurelia waited for us to finish, looking far too pleased.

At the back of the chapel, Helena and Lisbeth sat with Queen Celestine and Queen Alisande, sorting the last few ribbons that needed fastening.

Mirelle joined them when we were done.

Their conversation drifted from flowers to children, then to a wedding decades earlier at which someone had fainted before the vows.

I did not discover who.

Every woman on the bench suddenly became very interested in her sewing when I approached.

The gate bell sounded while we were eating.

Mary put down her spoon.

Thor was already standing.

I followed them into the passage and down toward the receiving hall.

The first through were two soldiers carrying a stretcher.

Then came an elderly dwarf holding a child asleep against his shoulder.

More followed.

Blankets. Muddy boots. A healer with one sleeve torn at the elbow.

Melody came through near the end, carrying a little girl whose face was buried beneath her chin.

Mary stopped several paces away.

Melody saw her.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Melody looked down at the child.

“Could someone take her? My arm has gone numb, and I would prefer not to make an undignified entrance.”

Evelyn stepped forward carefully.

The girl woke enough to object, so Melody walked beside them until they reached a chair.

Only when the child settled with her aunt did she come back.

Mary embraced her hard enough to stop whatever she had intended to say.

Melody closed her eyes.

Thor waited until Mary released her, then pulled her into another embrace.

“You are late,” Thor said.

“The wedding is tomorrow.”

“I meant supper.”

Melody laughed, tiredly.

“Then I demand that something be done.”

Aurethar and Sareth arrived by air after the lamps were lit.

The nineteen children were all accounted for.

Some needed careful treatment. Others needed food, sleep, and time before anyone asked them to tell their stories.

The dwarven guides carried a letter from their council authorizing talks about a lasting defensive agreement. The elven healer brought another from the representatives Melody had met.

We received both.

We arranged rooms.

The detailed discussions could wait until the travelers had slept.

When I left the infirmary, Melody was seated between Mary and Thor with a bowl balanced on her knees.

Her ears had begun to droop.

She was still insisting she could help with the wedding preparations.

Mary took the empty bowl from her.

“You can begin by going to bed.”

For once, Melody did not argue.

Later, I found Evelyn and Adriana standing beside the window in our rooms.

Their dresses for the morning had been laid out carefully.

My coat hung nearby, the little cloth flower ready beside it.

Adriana turned as I entered.

“Is she really back?”

“Eating, complaining, and being ordered to rest.”

Evelyn smiled.

“Then she is back.”

I joined them at the window.

The courtyard below was quiet. A few final lanterns were being checked. Beyond the wall, the watch continued its rounds.

Adriana took my hand, then Evelyn’s.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

There was wonder in her voice, and some fear.

Evelyn lifted their joined hands and kissed her fingers.

“Tomorrow.”

I looked at the two women beside me.

For days, everyone had asked whether the preparations were finished.

The guests. The flowers. The food. The arrangements if the rain returned.

Now there was nothing I needed to check.

I drew them both close.

We stayed at the window until Adriana yawned, then Evelyn laughed softly and led us to bed.