But gods above, I wish she were here now. As my friend. She should be here to see this.
Tovian is staring at the alcove revealed by the parted waterfall. The boat rocks, then stills, in response to the changed current. I grin up at him.
“Isn’t it amazing?”
“Incredible.”
He stares, awestruck, at the enormous statue of Reila, the Moon Goddess. She’s thousands of years old, three stories high and painted vivid red, black, and inlaid with silver. Her face is carved alabaster, adorned with the silver crescent emblem of my people. The alcove behind the waterfall is covered in silver ornamentation, from hammered plate that reflects moonlight like water, flecked with gold accents. Viewing it from a boat on the river, the effect is that of an enormous mirror. Everyone can witness our union.
Hand-in-hand, we stepped from the low-lying boat onto the rocky shore. Crimson silk, weighted with glimmering thread, caressed my legs.
The young priestess’ black hair hangs to her waist. She wears a white silk gown gathered at the shoulders and waist with elaborate designs representing the Mysec people. A depiction of a river on the belt around her midsection. Fish wrap around her wrists and wild rice hung from her ears. My cousin’s mouth quirks up at the corners when we make eye contact.
She bids Tovian and me to kneel. Bending is starting to get awkward. I’m not showing yet too much yet, and my gown is cut for maximum disguise, but my stomach strains the fabric. Tovian’s grip on my elbow tightened fractionally. He cast me a concerned glance. I grinned, folded my hands, and bent my head.
[Cousin]’s voice carried on the wind, echoing faintly in the cavern. I picture the boats on the water crowding closer, fighting their way into the calm center of the parted waterfall, which thundered down in a curtain of rushing water on either side of the cavern.
We are fragments of stars, at the mercy of the wind and weather and time. We come together to face our fate and trust the Three Goddesses to guide us. Do you promise to honor Reila, Goddess of Moonlight and Water?
Tovian promises.
Do you promise to uphold Her vow to Her people?
Again, he speaks the words. In binding himself to an ancient goddess, he tied himself to her descendant. Me.
I can’t help but marvel that this gorgeous, steadfast, brave man chose me over his own people. I didn’t believe I was worthy of that kind of devotion. I accept it humbly now.
Then it’s my turn to promise myself to him. It’s a crappy exchange, to be honest, for immediately on the heels of that vow is my promise to reign fairly and with dignity, in honor of the Goddess Reila, may her moons wax and wane and ever guide me along the path of peace, etc. etc. All that good stuff. Basically, Tovian has to honor me. I honor the goddess first, then him.
But we’re all on board with this arrangement.
Even the dukes who were furious when I chose an outsider over them have more or less conceded that an alliance with Tovian’s people is worth the indignity of having to wait another decade until my sister comes of age to have a chance of marrying into the royal family.
Fireworks split the air.
Oh, yes, we have fireworks in Auralia. They’re an ancient technology, one brought to us by an unlucky Chinese ship that wrecked on our shores many centuries ago. The passengers stayed—after all, there was no way for them to return home—bringing their knowledge of printed language and explosives.
Our country has never been as isolated as we pretend to be.
Tonight, it doesn’t matter. We float in the red-tinged river with silver stars above, a white moon shining down with Reila’s blessing. Tovian and I make the rounds to every boat, acknowledging all the people who came to celebrate our union.
There are too many parentless children and sad women, mourning their husbands. Yet even the ones who’ve lost everyone they love are here to celebrate ours. I’m humbled and determined to do well by these people who now call me Queen.
We dance beneath the moon on a terrace bedecked with red and silver banners that wink and wave in the night breeze.
Tovian catches one of the youngest orphans, a little girl barely old enough to walk, and dances with her like she’s the star of the evening. I take the hands of two boys, brothers who lost their mother and father in the war, kicking wildly in a circle to make them laugh and squeal. I am the queen mother to all these lost children. I’ll never forget the sacrifices their families made to hold onto our freedom.
I sidle over to my new husband. He’s holding the toddler against his shoulder, clearly smitten with her round little face, huge brown eyes and black hair.
“This is Raina. Your queen.”
“Hi there, pumpkin.” I don’t know the girl’s name. She’s one of hundreds of orphans. I haven’t memorized everyone yet. I make a note to do so, though. These children are our future. They’ll remember the queen and her prince consort giving them refuge long after I’m old enough to pass the torch to my own daughter.
If I have one.
Tovian’s family runs to boys. Supposedly, it’s a 50/50 shot having a boy or a girl, but his line is suspiciously boy-oriented, come to think of it.
Never really thought of myself as a boy-mom. Huh.
