Finally, the old woman places a crown of dried yellow flowers around my head, so it rests just above my eyebrows. “Beautiful. Now you look like a proper Satari bride,” she says, standing on her toes to kiss my cheek. “You don’t even look like the same girl you did when you wandered into camp.”
I smile. “Thank you…” I do not know their names.
“Call me Mama,” the elderly lady says with a smile. “I am the only living person left from the first generation of children born in the forest after Grinndoar, the stone dragon, forced my people to leave the kingdom of Satar. That makes me the oldest woman in this camp, so I am everyone’s designated grandmamma.”
“And I am Vivienne,” the other woman says, and she kisses my cheek.
Mama leads me from the wagon to the side of a fire encircled by wide, flat logs for chairs. Golmarr is already sitting. His hair is wet and has been brushed away from his clean face, and he is wearing a fresh gray shirt and pair of brown pants. As I approach, his eyes slowly travel from my makeshift leather shoes to the flowers in my hair. When his eyes meet mine, a hint of a smile softens his mouth, and I find myself blushing, so I press my hands to my cheeks.
“Food for these lovers!” Edemond bellows, walking over to us, and a moment later a child holds a carved stone plate heaped with meat, onions, and singed flatbread out to me. The plate is warm on my fingers, which have never warmed up from the caves. “We are short on plates and seats,” Edemond says when Golmarr isn’t given anything to eat. “So sit on Ornald’s lap, lass, and share that food with him.”
Before I can inform Edemond that sitting on Golmarr’s lap would most definitely not be proper, Golmarr’s hands dart up and grasp my hips, pulling me down onto his lap. I open my mouth to ask for utensils just as Golmarr’s freshly scrubbed fingers grab a slice of meat. He puts it into his mouth and his head falls forward so he is leaning against my arm and chewing as if he is so exhausted he can’t even hold his head up anymore. Licking my lips, I grab a piece of flatbread and put it into my mouth.
Tears flood my eyes as I chew the hot, salty bread, and before I can swallow, they stream down my cheeks. Using a torn piece of flatbread like a spoon, I scoop up a mound of onions and cram them and the bread into my mouth. I do not touch the fire-crisped pork. Golmarr eats silently, devouring the food so fast I wonder if he chews before he swallows it. By the time I have taken four bites, my stomach feels like it is going to burst, and I force myself to stop eating.
“Are you done?” Golmarr asks. I nod and he devours the rest of the food so quickly, with such apparent need, I wonder how he’s survived as long as he has on what little we’ve eaten. When the plate is empty, he wraps his arms around my waist and leans his head against my shoulder.
Three men sit beside the biggest fire and start playing flutes carved from pale stone. I sit in the firelit glade and listen to the music, and blush every time anyone looks at me, for it is beyond scandalous to sit on a young man’s lap.
By the time full darkness has settled over the forest, Edemond wanders over to us. He has changed into a crimson shirt and matching trousers, and has a braided cloth belt woven with gold thread at his waist. “I am ready to perform your wedding. Are you finished eating?” he asks, a knowing smile on his face. Golmarr and I both nod. “Then let us marry you!” Edemond hollers so everyone in the camp can hear. The musicians stop playing, and men start moving log seats away from the biggest fire, clearing an open space in front of it. Women bring stone oil lamps to the cleared space and place them around its edges, making a circle of light.
“Golmarr!” I whisper. “We aren’t truly going to be married, are we?”
He looks at me with heavy eyes. “Don’t you want to marry me?” he asks. When I do not answer, a slow smile spreads over his sleepy face. “He won’t be using our real names, so it won’t be binding.” This information sends an unexpected pang of regret through me, and I frown. Golmarr’s smile grows wider. “Although I’m pretty sure you’re finally going to have to give in to that carnal nature you’ve been fighting and kiss me.”
I look around and swallow down a surge of panic. “In front of all of these people?”
He laughs and nods. “Yes. So make it convincing, or they might kill us yet.”
I glance at his upturned mouth and feel woozy at the thought of finally putting my lips to it. If the price for kissing him is a fake wedding and Satari witnesses, then I am ready to get married. I take his hand in mine, pull him to his feet, and practically drag him to the space the Satari have cleared for us. When we are inside of the glowing ring of lamps, the forest grows quiet as the Satari settle down to watch a wedding.