If not for these damned eyes… but as Lissa began rapidly combing through my hair, my gaze drifted to the background in the mirror, to the journal and book laying discarded and waiting for me.
Everything would be all right. I kept my back straight and tried to relax everything else.
As they worked, I was reminded even more strongly that this was no proper wedding according to the customs of my people. If my husband were not a vampire, I would have been gifted with polished rowan stakes to wear to my wedding, had silver dust smeared over my throat, and silver bells both on my wrists and braided into the crown of rowan.
Instead, Lissa arranged my damp hair in a braided crown, and Wyn tsked, pulling the braids out and brushing my hair out again in a fall down my back. “Keep it simple. Let the color shine,” she said, her filigree claws combing through. “It’s as red as our roses.”
She paused to study me, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “No cosmetics. Really, Bane has no idea how fortunate he is that you were chosen.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I had always placed my value in how hard I had worked to learn what I had, not in beauty, which was normally covered by a wimple and dust, anyways.
“Come over here, Cirrien. Leave the towel. The dress looks to be of a similar size, but we might need a few quick alterations…”
When they pulled out the simple, shimmering gown of white spidersilk, as thin as air, I forced myself to take a breath.
In my mind, I had been married this entire time, in the tradition of any proper Veladari bride. It took the sight of the moon-pale, unmarked silk to remind me that I was no such thing as Bane’s wife, not according to the vampires.
The gown wrapped around me, sleeveless and exposing my throat, shoulders, and arms. It hugged me like a web, so close to the skin that I felt almost naked.
Wyn sucked a breath between her teeth. “Perfection. What a joyous day, when nothing goes horrendously wrong.” And then she rapped on the wooden dresser, two sharp knocks with her knuckles. “Oh ancestors, I actually said that out loud.”
She turned me back towards the mirror and for the first time, I actually felt pretty. The vampiric wedding gown was simple, but the long spill of crimson hair made it feel deliberate.
“No jewelry, either. That would just be gilding the lily.” Wyn snapped her fingers, and Lissa placed a pair of matching silk slippers before me. I stepped into them; they were slightly too large, but not enough to make my walk clumsy. “It’s strange, but I could have sworn that the name given to me for earlier planning was not Cirrien; it started with an A, I believe? Alanna? Antonia? Perhaps I misread it. But the girl’s size was sent ahead, and though these were clearly not made for you, it happens to be a fortuitous fit.”
A chill ran down my spine as I was reminded of Antonetta and her sad, ignoble end. It was sheer good luck that we were similar in size; these clothes had been made with her in mind.
I was wearing a dead woman’s dress.
Banishing the chill, I cut my hand sideways in a sharp motion, a sign that not even Wyn needed a translator for: do not ask.
I was determined to go into this marriage with—if not good cheer, then at least determination to find some silver lining, so to speak. I wanted no reminders of death on this night, or on the series of events and unfortunate lineage that had led me here.
The bloodwitch took my sign as it was intended, tilting her chin down. “Now for the last thing we need. As admirable as your constitution has proved up until now, we don’t need you fainting at the altar. This is the one wedding the Rift has been waiting for and it will be the talk of the valley for the next year. Believe me, you don’t want that talk to be about how you collapsed like a sack of flour in front of the Lord. Hold out your wrist, if you please.”
From within her voluminous sleeves, she produced a delicate, leaf-shaped blade, the edges gleaming sharp, and a small glass bottle.
How many knives did this woman carry around? I was starting to think she held an entire cabinet of curiosities within those robes.
Feeling no small amount of trepidation, I held out my left arm, wrist up, and Wyn took it. She delicately ran a fingertip over the blue tracery of veins, then angled the leaf-shaped knife and chose a precise point to insert it.
I sucked in a sharp breath, fingers clenching, fighting the urge to rip my arm away from her. I’d known this was coming. One way or another, as long as I was in Ravenscry, I would spill my blood.
She held the jar to the small wound she’d made, capturing much more than a pinprick of blood this time, but not enough to make me feel weak. And once it was full, she capped it and held it up to the light, giving it a little shake with a smile. Lissa silently handed me a silk bandage, and I held it to the tiny wound.
“I realize we haven’t discussed our customs in-depth with you, but I assure you, you will want Lord Bane to have your blood. His aegis does not extend to you in the manner of a husband until he has partaken of your blood in the ceremony. In a… more typical vampire wedding, you would drink of his blood, but this is no ordinary wedding. It’s…” She waved a hand, trailing off.
Politically expedient? I asked, arching a brow.
“I do hope that wasn’t an insult, dear. You will drink the wine as you make your vows, but there will be no blood in it for you. Before Bane drinks, I will add this to the cup. There will be more bleeding, but I assure you it will not be enough to cause an issue.”
More bleeding? I stared at her.
“The thorns, you see,” she said, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing that will cause permanent harm, I promise.”
The thorns?
Wyn finally met my gaze and exhaled slowly, her mouth thinning. “I must be honest with you. I’ve had many opportunities to educate you on our customs and what to expect, but to be frank… I chose, quite specifically, to keep you in the dark until now. Once the vows are made, you will be taught our customs in full—the customs we have managed to preserve from the days of the Red Epoch, at least.”
Why? I asked, tipping my head with curiosity, though I was completely unsurprised and could guess at why she might have chosen this.
“The other brides did not go willingly to the altar, knowing what their lives would become, so I chose the easiest path—keeping you blind to what was to come. Is it not better to bring a lamb to slaughter happy and blindfolded?”
My lips twisted as I took a step back from her. I hope that’s simply a poorly-chosen metaphor.
A faint wince crossed her face. “Perhaps that was not quite how I meant to put it… what I do mean to say is, your fate was sealed from the moment we entered Argent. There is nowhere to run now. You cannot escape the keep. I didn’t want you attempting to flee while in Thornvale, but now that we’re here… well, this wedding will involve blood. It will cause you some pain, because we believe that the bond is all the sweeter later for enduring that slight sting. You will emerge unharmed, and you will be expected to allow Lord Bane to feed from you once the bond is made. You seem to be a bright girl, Cirrien; I’m sure you’ve put much of this together yourself.”
Wyn reached out and touched one of my limp hands.
“All you must do is follow our cues,” she told me. “I’ve organized this wedding down to the last ancestors’-blessed petal; everything is in place. But remember that you must go through with it, and you may as well do so with dignity. My kind will not allow any other outcome than success.”
I nodded, a strange sort of numbness that I’d never felt before welling up inside me. Even during the worst disappointments of my life—being rejected from becoming a Silver Sister, being rejected as a candidate for the Library—I had never felt anything quite like this.
