I face Golmarr, with the Satari to my left, and the fire and Edemond to my right. The orange firelight glows on half of Golmarr’s face, shading and highlighting his square chin and cheekbones and lips. He reaches forward and takes my hands in his, and stares at me, eyes intense. His hands are like ice in my chilled hands.
“As the direct descendant and heir of King Haggoth, the final ruler of the kingdom of Satar before Grinndoar the dragon forced us from it, I have the authority to marry these two people, by their own free will, in front of these witnesses.” He clears his throat. “Ornald, repeat after me,” Edemond says to Golmarr. “I, Ornald, vow to love, protect, and care for you, Jayah, until the day I die.”
“I, Ornald,” Golmarr says, “vow to love, protect, and care for you, Jayah, until the day I die.” His hands tighten on mine, and he smiles a hint of a smile.
“Jayah, repeat after me,” Edemond says. “I, Jayah, vow to love, protect, and care for you, Ornald, until the day I die.”
“I, Jayah, vow to love—” My voice catches on the word love, and tears fill my eyes and stream down my cheeks for the second time that night, even though the words I am repeating are not truly binding. I clear my throat and say, “I vow to love, protect, and care for you, Ornald, until the day I die.”
Sniffles fill the quiet forest. The women are dabbing their eyes with bright, multicolored handkerchiefs.
“Very good,” Edemond says. “I, Edemond ap Haggoth, rightful king of Satar and patriarch of the Black Blades, pronounce you husband and wife. Now kiss three times to bind it.”
I stop breathing and stare at Golmarr. He tightens his grip on my hands and pulls me closer, and his eyes narrow. And then he waits. Reaching up, I put my trembling hands on his shoulders. I stand on my toes, tilt my chin up, and lean into him. Our lips barely touch, and as I breathe in, I inhale his breath. After a moment, he pulls away and raises his eyebrows.
More convincing, I think, and all the kisses that were passed to me when I inherited the fire dragon’s treasure come flooding into my mind. I slide one hand behind Golmarr’s neck and pull him toward me a second time. When his lips touch mine, I press my mouth more firmly to his, and my blood seems to fill with fire. I close my eyes and slide my hand into his hair, and then I slowly move my lips against his.
He gasps and breaks the seal of our lips and leans his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes. Grabbing my face in both his hands, he pulls me possessively to him, and his mouth finds mine. His lips part and coax mine open, and he kisses me with the same urgent hunger with which he just ate his meal. I twine my hands in his hair and get lost in the taste of him, in the feel of his body against mine, in the way—
“All right! To the wagon with you lovebirds, before we have to cover the children’s eyes!” Edemond calls, and Golmarr gently pushes me away. He stares at me, eyes filled with wonder and want, and I know my eyes look the same. “Unless you’d care to join us in some dancing?”
Golmarr wraps his arm around my shoulders and presses his mouth to my ear. “As much as I would love to dance with you again,” he whispers, “I don’t think I have the energy.”
I shake my head. “I don’t, either.”
“The wagon, please,” Golmarr says, and the spectators start to hoot and holler as the musicians begin playing their flutes once more.
“This way,” Edemond says, and starts walking to the wagon ring that encircles the camp. Golmarr grabs my hand in his, palm to palm, weaving our fingers together, and we follow the man who should be a king to a sunset-pink wagon. “I wish you a good night,” Edemond says with a wink, leaving us at the door.
Next to the door hangs a copper bell that has turned turquoise with tarnish. Inside, a stone oil lamp is burning, and someone has brought my staff to the wagon. A beautifully carved stone basin with water and soap is at one end of the wagon, a small table is in the middle, and at the other end, a narrow bed barely big enough for two people. Golmarr shuts the door and sinks into a chair at the table and starts unlacing his boots.
“When I said to make the kiss convincing, I meant for the Satari. Not for me,” he says, eyes guarded. I blush and thrust my hands into the basin. The water is hot!
“What did I convince you of?” I ask with my back to him.
He stands. “You convinced me that…” I lift my hands from the water and turn to him. He steps up to me and puts his hands on either side of my face and runs his thumbs down my cheeks. “Even though that ceremony wasn’t real, your crying was real when you spoke your vows,” he whispers, and then he kisses both of my cheeks. My eyes flutter shut at the feel of his soft lips on my skin, and I lay my hands flat against his chest. He kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment, and then turns from me. “I will sit with my back to you while you get clean.”