Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) (6 page)

There had been no last-minute rescues, no divine intervention. For better or worse, I was now wed to Kadar Arkalis.

O
f course
I would not be allowed to retire quietly. No, a great feast and celebration was held in the castle’s main hall, where I found myself marveling a little at the household staff’s ability to put together such an important event in so short an amount of time. Perhaps by the loftier Sirlendian standards the feast might have been considered meager, consisting as it did of only three courses, and there was little in the way of flowers, although garlands of autumn leaves decked the high table and the doorways and windows. Still, all in all it was quite a respectable show.

I sat next to Kadar and forced myself to smile and nod as well-wishers approached to offer their congratulations. While I wanted nothing more than to plead a headache and disappear, I knew the Mark would never accept such an excuse. At least he was so occupied in responding to the outpouring of felicitations that he paid scant attention to me. As was to be expected, I supposed. Now that he had accomplished his nefarious goal, I probably held little interest for him.

The food might have been good, but I would have been hard-pressed to say for sure. It all tasted like sawdust. And although the wine tempted me with its promise of easy oblivion, I forced myself to take only measured sips. I would never forgive myself if I somehow missed a chance at escape simply because I was too intoxicated to recognize it at the time.

Escape
. What a foolish, vain thought. For now I was Kadar Arkalis’ wife, and he had every right to come after me and imprison me in his castle. Even if I should somehow find the means to slip away, any freedom I gained would be short-lived at best. I was his property now.

I thought then of the doomed Soraya, Duchess of Donrath, who had flung herself from the highest tower of her husband’s keep the night of her own forced marriage. Hers made a suitably tragic tale, perfect for songs and poetry, but I knew I would not have the strength to do such a thing. No, I would meekly lower my head and allow Kadar to…

A tremor passed over me, and I reached for my wine glass and took a bigger swallow than I had intended. I knew something of the relations between men and women, since my mother, in her particular no-nonsense way, had been rather frank on the subject. No blissful, girlish ignorance for me. I knew all too well what awaited me once this feast was over.

At least my doom would be somewhat delayed, as the festivities showed no sign of abating once the meal was done. No, the dishes were cleared and the tables whisked away, while a group of musicians took their places at one end of the hall.

“If you will allow me?” Kadar said, extending one hand.

As I could hardly refuse, I laid my hand on his and allowed him to lead me to a spot a few paces away from the musicians. I noted that there were viols and drums and an odd, flat device with strings stretched across it and which its master appeared to manipulate with a small set of hammer-like instruments.

The wedding guests fell into place below us, forming a long line with men on one side and women on the other. Indeed, there were so many who wished to dance that a second set formed a few yards away. I watched in some trepidation, as the dances I had learned back home from my friend Maris’s dancing master were of the Sirlendian style, which meant they were performed in circles, not in lines. No doubt I would make a complete fool of myself trying to keep up with the unfamiliar steps.

“They always start out slowly,” Kadar told me. His eyes glinted with amusement…at my discomfiture, no doubt. “The musicians know they must needs give the guests time to digest.”

“Thank goodness.”

After a bit of preliminary plucking and tuning, the musicians struck the obligatory chord for everyone to honor their partners, and then launched into the first piece. It appeared Kadar had been telling the truth — this particular dance was slow and stately, with a good deal of walking and a few circles with the two couples in each set holding hands, but nothing more complicated than that. Once I understood how our progression down the hall worked, there really was nothing to it.

The other couples around us laughed and chattered, but I remained silent throughout the piece. Perhaps Kadar and the rest of the dancers attributed my taciturn behavior to my unfamiliarity with the dance…perhaps not. At the moment I did not much care one way or another. And as Kadar did not seem inclined to press me for conversation, I managed to survive the dance without embarrassing myself.

Afterward he led me back to my seat at the high table, the only table that had not been cleared away to make room for dancing. ”You may rest here — it is known that you are not familiar with our dances, and so I think you will be able to sit quietly.”

“And you?” I inquired. Certainly I was in no mood for celebrating, but I also didn’t much relish the thought of sitting alone the whole night.

“Oh, I’ll come reclaim you from time to time,” he replied, purposely misunderstanding me. “But I intend to make merry this evening.”

With that he left me and went to claim as his partner a pretty, pert young woman with curls almost as wild as mine and a brilliant smile one could see from halfway across the hall. I doubted she was one of the young noblewomen whose matrimonial hopes had been dashed when Kadar took me as his bride, or she wouldn’t have been grinning so broadly. But she looked to be a lively partner, one far more appealing than I knew I was at the moment.

Of course no one approached me, and so I had to pretend it suited me to merely watch the dancers. The next piece proved to be more spirited, with couples weaving and twisting in and around each other as they progressed through the line. Most likely I would have been lost if I had attempted such a thing, and I tried to tell myself that being a wallflower was not so bad. For some reason I kept looking to see with whom Kadar danced next, whether she was pretty, and whether he seemed to be enjoying himself. In every case, the answer to both those questions seemed to be yes, and I fought a losing battle to keep a scowl from my face.

Sitting and watching also meant that I had little to do save take small sips from my goblet and try not to think about what would happen once the music was over and the guests had departed. The food I had managed to eat rested uneasily in my stomach. I swallowed against the sour taste that rose in my throat and wished to be someplace very far away.

At length Kadar either decided to take pity on me, or perhaps he realized that to leave his new bride sitting alone for too long would invite questions. He approached and said merrily, “Are you rested enough to try the next one? I will warn you that it is rather lively.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” I told him. “Even though I do confess that I am rather weary.”

The dark brows lifted. “Weary? After only one dance?”

“I fear I did not sleep well last night.”

He said nothing, but gave me one hard glance before taking my hand in his and leading me out to the new line that had begun to form. To my surprise, he did not bother to claim his place at the head of the line but fell into position halfway down.

“Remember,” he said. “Lively.”

“I’ll be fine,” I replied and lifted my chin, mentally vowing to acquit myself well even if it killed me.

And truly, when the dance began I thought Kadar must have been making a joke at my expense, for the steps seemed simple enough, merely basic movements right and left and a few one-hand turns. But then we finished the first verse, and the musicians increased the tempo of the song. Just a little, but enough for me to realize that by the end of the dance I would have to be moving very quickly indeed.

I shot Kadar a glare of annoyed comprehension, and he grinned back at me. After that I had no time for remonstrances, because I was far too occupied with not falling over my own feet — or those of the other women who shared the line with me — to tell him what I thought of his little joke. Several times I bumped into my neighbors, but they did not seem to mind and only laughed at the silliness of it all until I found myself laughing along with them. By the time the dance was over, I was both gasping and giggling, and did not feel overmuch inclined to struggle when Kadar took me by the waist and led me off the dance floor.

“Ah, so you can smile,” he said, after helping himself to a reviving draught of wine. “I had begun to wonder whether your continued dour expression was an attempt to hide missing teeth. I am glad to see I was wrong.”

Missing
— “My teeth are all very well, I do assure you,” I retorted. “But perhaps you should have checked that before you brought me here.”

“Perhaps. Then again,” he added, looking thoughtful, “I fear if I had attempted to open your mouth to inspect those lovely teeth of yours, you most likely would have bitten my fingers off.”

Despite myself, I smiled. The silly dance had worked like a tonic on my mood, and if I just concentrated on the lively music in the background and the quite fine vintage in my cup, I could almost forget the reason why I was here in the first place.

I didn’t want to admit it, but it seemed that some part of me enjoyed the verbal sparring with Kadar. It reminded me of the practice swordplay rounds back in the courtyard of my home, when Thani and my father used to spend hours trading blows. Just before Thani had departed for Sirlende to complete his training in Lord Senric’s household, my brother and my father had been evenly matched, and most of the time there never seemed to be a clear victor. Neither of them seemed to be bothered by the situation overmuch, and somehow I didn’t mind the back and forth with Kadar quite as much as I probably should have.

“Another smile!” Kadar exclaimed. “Truly, a momentous occasion. I must have the scribes make a note of it.”

“I’m sure they’ve been diligently recording all of the day’s great activities.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I had not said them at all, for Kadar’s expression grew thoughtful. He gazed down at me for a moment, then looked away to the revelers, who had continued with their dancing and drinking and talking. No one seemed to be paying us much attention.

“But this day, like all others, must come to an end at last.” He set down his wine goblet and reached for my hand. I almost snatched it away and stopped myself just in time. Despite my reluctance to face what must inevitably come next, I did not want to make a scene.

And so he led me from the hall, away from the light and color and music. The corridors of the castle seemed ominously dark to me in contrast, for low candles burned in sconces at large intervals, thus providing barely enough illumination to show the way.

I could not yet pretend any great familiarity with the building’s layout, but at length I did recognize the corridor through which he led me, as well as the wide shallow steps leading up to the double doors of Kadar’s suite. Two guards stood there, and one opened the right-hand door for us.

The servants had been busy here as well; more of the autumn garlands decorated the mantel, the window arches, and even the top of the bookcase. Candles smelling of sweet beeswax flickered from every corner. If the circumstances had been different, I might have found it all very lovely.

As it was…

Kadar let go of my hand and strode to the fireplace, then grasped a poker and stirred the logs — quite unnecessarily, I thought, as the fire seemed to be blazing away quite well without his assistance. Perhaps he was not quite as at ease as he would have liked me to believe.

After he finished with the fire, he replaced the poker in its wrought-iron stand and moved to a small table a few feet away, where a squat decanter made of heavy greenish glass sat, along with two small cups of what appeared to be etched silver.

He poured a small measure of pale gold liquid into each cup and handed one of them to me. Despite my efforts to moderate my intake of wine at the revel, by this time I felt just the smallest bit light-headed, and the thought of drinking anything else did not seem particularly wise. I could think of no way to refuse, though, so I took the cup from him. But I only held it, and did not raise it to my lips.

“Share a drink with me, Lark,” he said.

Perhaps I should have poured it away, or flung it on the fire to show Kadar what I thought of this forced marriage and his transparent attempts at currying my goodwill. But I was alone with him now, with no watching nobles to temper his actions. I found I did not wish to rouse his anger.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A brew we make here in the north, of wildflower honey. Most find it pleasant enough.”

Whether he meant that statement as a challenge, I did not know, but I decided the drink sounded harmless enough. That is, until I took my first sip and had the sweet fire of it burn its way down my throat. I coughed, and Kadar smiled.

“You will be glad enough of it when winter comes,” he said, and helped himself to a swallow far less timid than mine.

I didn’t know about that, although I did admit to myself that once the initial heat had worn off, the drink left behind a mellow warmth somewhere in my midsection. Not wishing to be thought a coward, I drank again.

“Good girl.” He tossed back the rest of his cup’s contents and poured himself some more.

His actions set off a tremor of doubt within me. For while he seemed in control for now, I knew the drink must be quite strong. What would he be like after three or four measures of the heady liquor?

“I suppose I should put your mind at ease.” He drank once more and then placed the half-empty cup back on the table next to the decanter.

I looked up at him and fought to keep a questioning frown from my brow. “At ease?”

Kadar smiled, but I saw little of humor in his expression. Perhaps he had noted my disquiet. “I am not the sort of man who takes pleasure from forcing unwilling women.”

“You — you aren’t?” I stammered, then felt a complete fool. But his comment had taken me by surprise, and I had responded without thinking.

His teeth showed again. “I suppose you may be forgiven your low opinion of me, considering our current circumstances. Know then, Lark, that while I made this marriage for political reasons, I have no intention of taking you against your will. I will not lie and say I do not hope that this can be a true marriage in time, but until then — ” He shrugged and extended a hand toward the divan that faced the fireplace — “I will sleep here.”