“You wish to make a claim?” Erisial said. “Finally?”
“Yes, I do,” Celise replied. “I want to claim a consort.” Her Ashaiian sounded much better to Wesson’s ears, as if she had practiced.
Erisial glanced at Coledon and then back to Celise. “Very well, Celise. Make your claim.”
Celise looked at the crowd again and then turned back to her mother. “I claim Journeyman Wesson as my consort.”
Wesson watched the queen’s expression darken and then noticed that everyone was looking at him. Finally, Celise’s words caught up with him. He felt a heavy thud as his heart began to race. He blinked a few times and then said, “What?”
A firm hand nudged him from behind, and Coledon whispered in his ear, “Best go up there, boy. You are not getting out of this one.”
Wesson shuffled past his friends to stand beside Celise, just then noticing that they were about the same height. She did not look at him. In fact, he was not sure she had ever looked at him.
“I do not understand,” he said.
For the first time, the young woman glanced his way. She gave him an apologetic smile and then returned her attention to her mother. Erisial appeared as if her head would burst into flame. Wesson briefly considered making that happen, and then he pushed that little destructive voice to the back of his mind.
Erisial said, “You finally claim a consort, and you choose this puny boy who has not even achieved mage status?”
Wesson shook his head vigorously. He did not want to be claimed. He had other plans.
Celise glanced at him and then said, “Yes. He is”—she paused to search for a word—“kind. The Ashaiian women”—she nodded toward Wesson’s companions—“they like him. He is … um … respected. And, he is cute—like a puppy.”
Erisial’s gaze shot daggers at her daughter. “A puppy? I would buy you a litter of puppies. I would fill this room with puppies! But you do not claim a puppy for your consort!”
“He wishes to be a life mage. This is good person—not dangerous,” Celise said.
Erisial stormed down the steps to the foot of the dais. She frowned as she noted with her judgmental gaze that Wesson was a hair shorter. She said, “Celise, you need someone dangerous for your consort. You need a champion who can protect you and your interests. There is an entire yard of palace guards who would fight to be your consort. Do not choose this boy who cannot even finish his spells.”
Celise dropped her gaze to the floor, and Wesson felt a breath of relief that her mother had gotten through to her—even if it was at his expense.
“I choose Wesson,” she muttered without looking at her mother.
Erisial fumed at her daughter and then turned her heated gaze on him. “Do you accept her claim?” she snapped.
“No!” Wesson said. “No, I do not want to be claimed. I already have someone.”
“You are married?” Erisial said, apparently relieved.
Celise looked up at him in alarm.
“Well, no, but I want to marry her.”
“Then you are betrothed?” Erisial said, and he wondered if she would accept it in lieu of marriage. Unfortunately, they would know if he was lying.
“Um, no.”
Erisial sighed. “But you will be?”
“Probably not,” he said with defeat. “She is most likely already married by now.”
Erisial closed her eyes and then turned to glare at Rezkin, as if blaming him. Rezkin, however, was smiling for the first time since he had caused the disquiet the previous night. It was not the smirk he sometimes wore, but a broad grin, and laughter danced in his blue gaze.
Panic took over, and Wesson blurted, “You think this is funny?”
Rezkin laughed. He actually laughed, and Wesson nearly blasted him with a fireball.
“I am sorry, Journeyman, but, yes, this is funny. The woman wants a puppy, so she chooses you.”
Wesson noticed that others were beginning to look at him suspiciously, and he wondered why Rezkin would make such a spectacle. Rezkin never did anything without a purpose.
Erisial was staring at Rezkin as if seeing him for the first time. She shook herself from the trance and gazed around the room. “Someone may choose to challenge the claim.” Coming from her lips, it almost sounded like an order.
Wesson began to worry as people whispered and nudged each other.
Erisial looked down at him and said, “It is obvious he cannot win a challenge. It would be an easy win.”
“No!” said Celise. “No one wants him like I do.” She looked at the crowd in a panic. “Please do not take him from me.”
Coledon stepped forward. He pointed at Wesson and said, “I will stand as champion against any challengers for Celise’s claim on this man.”
Those who looked as if they might challenge the claim stood back, and the whispers died. Celise beamed up at Coledon and then took Wesson’s hand with girlish glee. Wesson stared at her in amazement.
Erisial tromped up the steps and hissed at Rezkin, “Come, husband, we must consummate our marriage. We will discuss this later.”
Rezkin grinned at Wesson and then turned to follow Erisial without as much as a glance for Frisha. Wesson wanted to feel bad for her, but he had problems of his own. It seemed like Rezkin had thrown him to the wolves just to get under Erisial’s skin. Well, not wolves. Just one wolf. Or maybe she was more like a fox. He looked into the large brown eyes that glowed with happiness. Definitely a fox. He wondered if Mage Threll might use her spell to prevent his tears.
Erisial stormed through the corridors, not even pretending to be a happily married woman. Rezkin figured her open display of disgust could be blamed on Celise’s decision and not on the fact that she wanted nothing to do with him. He briefly wondered if he could make her angry enough to reject the consummation altogether. He chided himself for the wistful thought. He had decided the farce of a marriage was a small price for an army, and Bilior had been most adamant about reminding him of their deal. Armies were not easily gotten; and, according to the fae, demons were on the rise.
“You laughed,” Erisial shouted as she stomped through her suite.
Serunius closed the doors and leaned back against them. The man’s mood appeared to be somewhere between stormy and somber, but Erisial was all tempest.
“How could you laugh at that!” she said. “My daughter chose the weakest, puniest, prettiest little boy in the kingdom.”
“He is not a little boy,” Rezkin said blandly as he took a seat on the settee. “He is eighteen, same as Celise.” He smirked and met her gaze. “He is less than a year younger than I, your husband.”
Erisial’s face heated as she looked to Serunius for support. None was forthcoming. She looked back at him. “You are more than a man. I do not know what you are, but none would mistake you for a boy. Everyone in this kingdom quakes at your feet. No one would think twice about running over the journeyman. Celise has enemies. My enemies.”
“And a mother who would have her killed,” Rezkin said.
“I was not trying to have her killed. She was collateral damage, and I do not believe he would have gone that far.”
Rezkin hummed as he reclined on the plush seat. “I would think you a terror if I had not been trained by worse. The difference, however, is that I was taught to defend myself from my enemies, whereas Celise was left to survive on her own. She likely has more strength than you realize, and intuition as well. I have not sensed her use of talent. I wonder if she is a truthseeker.”
“What makes you say that?” Erisial said.
“Sit down and relax, wife. Your daughter chose the most dangerous man in that room, perhaps in this kingdom—besides me, of course. Although, she may withdraw her claim once she learns of it.”