A tremor of nervousness ran through me. “I can’t believe this is really going to happen.”
Cedric slipped an arm around me. “You can still change your mind. And you might want to—I’d hoped to do an Alanzan rite, if that’s okay. He could do a civil service if you wanted.”
I had only the briefest flash of that old fear, of dark rituals around a fire. Then those thoughts were banished. “The means don’t matter. As long as I get to pledge myself to you, I’ll be happy.”
It was a little surreal when Robert dismounted and donned a robe of black and white, so very different from the glittering vestments worn by the priests of Uros. Equally strange was the thought of an outdoor wedding. It seemed so casual compared to the formal processions and long services performed in the great cathedrals of Uros.
For the briefest of moments, I was taken away from this nighttime wilderness and remembered what it was like to sit between my parents in the pews of the King’s Crest Cathedral, the wood hard and golden from years of use. Enormous candelabras. Rainbows of stained glass covering the walls. We’d gone to dozens of noble weddings in my childhood, and I’d see my mother scrutinizing every detail of each bride’s attire, from her slippers to the enormous train trailing several feet behind her. And I could always tell my mother was mentally planning my wedding, deciding what would look best on me. Velvet or silk for the gown? Beadwork or embroidery on the train?
That long-ago idea rose up in me that at any moment my parents were going to walk through the door. I found myself looking toward the trailhead, like they might suddenly appear there. But my parents weren’t here. Neither was Grandmama. I wasn’t even wearing a dress.
“Adelaide?”
Cedric drew my attention back to him. One eyebrow was raised in question. No doubt he was thinking I’d changed my mind. Looking at him, at that beloved face, eased the weight of the ghosts that had settled on me. They weren’t gone. They never would be. But they were part of the past, and I couldn’t change that. It was the future I looked to now. The future I had chosen. The future I saw in Cedric’s eyes.
We held hands as Robert recited the words of the Alanzan ceremony. It was sweet and beautiful, speaking of how the joining of two people was part of the natural order of things. It made our union seem greater than us . . . like we now shared a part of some powerful, heavenly secret. Above us, a full moon shone down, and I remembered Mira saying that was a fortuitous omen for Alanzan weddings.
When Robert had finished reciting his words, it was time for us to recite ours. But first, he placed a circlet of bishop’s lace around our clasped hands. We tightened our hold as the frilly white flowers encircled our wrists. Then, I learned the full wording of the vows Cedric had once mentioned:
I will take your hand and lie with you in the groves, under the light of the moon. I will build a life with you upon this green earth. I will walk by your side for so long as the sun continues to rise.
The ending kiss was the same as the ceremonies of Uros, and we savored it, clinging to each other as though afraid this would all slip away when we released each other. Also the same was the signing of various legal papers. It seemed odd to be doing something so bureaucratic in this wild setting, but it meant we were bound both in the eyes of the law and whatever gods were looking down upon us. With that realization, a new lightness suddenly filled me. I was free of anyone else’s claim upon me. And Cedric and I were together—truly together—as we’d been meant to be since that first day we met.
He drew me to him once Robert had wished us well and gone his way, promising to keep the documents safe. “How do you feel?” Cedric asked.
“Happier than I ever imagined I’d be at my wedding,” I said. “Happier than I ever imagined I’d be in my life. Also dirtier . . . but that doesn’t bother me as much as I expected.”
He brushed his lips over mine. “Well, it’s a good thing I know where there’s a luxury bathhouse. Although it’s probably going to be freezing.”
I grabbed his hand and immediately began leading him toward the shaded pond. “Then I’ll keep you warm,” I said.
He was right—the water was a lot colder than that day we’d bathed in the heat of the afternoon. And it was a lot harder to see by moonlight. But neither of us looked away this time. And neither of us held back. We helped each other wash, but I don’t know how good a job we really did. There was too much kissing. Too much holding. Too much everything.