“With aliens,” I continue his obvious statement. “Yeah, even to me it sounds weird. Will I be able to control it on the way to Khav?”
“It takes most children a long time to control,” Mareliux says. “But they’re not strong in the Syntrix, so they can’t cause that kind of chaos. They have time to learn. Years. You have days.”
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I just couldn’t control it. I won’t wear that ring again.”
“That would ruin the whole marriage scheme,”Bellatriz points out. “Wear it. The ring shines because of your Syntrix, it’s not the ring that makes your Syntrix go haywire. It will fluctuate, from high peaks like just now to deep valleys when you can barely feel it at all. Think of the ring as an indicator of how strong your Syntrix is. When it shines brightly, maybe avoid sharp objects and masses of people.”
“Damn,” I manage. This took a turn for the scary.
Mareliux comes in close and gently embraces me. “I think it will work itself out. At worst, people will think we’re really Soulbound. That will only strengthen the plan. You did well, Umbra. Anyone who sees the recording of the ceremony willthink it’s real. Keep it up, and this will work better than we could hope for.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll do my best.” I look up at him. Two of his tendrils are lazily twisting themselves together in a double spiral, then uncoiling. It’s an interesting fidget, extremely alien. And I know what those tendrils can do.
“Someone’s looking,” I whisper. “You should kiss me.”
Without checking who’s looking at us, he gives me a warm smile, bends his neck, and gives me a soft, long kiss that he ends by flicking his tongue along my lips.
“Who’s looking?” he whispers, not taking his eyes off mine.
I nod towards the bodyguard. “Caret’ax.”
He frowns. “But he already knows this is not real!”
I shrug innocently. “Hewaslooking.”
Mareliux chuckles. “You’re a charming one, Umbra. I thought we were being spied on by the Quaestor!”
“Maybe we are,” I sniff, relieved that the Syntrix insanity has weakened. “You said we never know who might be looking when we’re in public.”
“You’re taking this very seriously, and I appreciate it,” Mareliux says. “Laugh as if I just said something funny.”
I widen my eyes and gasp, then lightly slap his chest with one hand while I lay my head back and laugh. “You’re so crazy!”
“My sweet, crystal-grinding maker,”Bellatriz chirps softly. “She’s a natural! You’re not paying her enough, Prince.”
“Mmm. We’ll look at the price when this is all over,” the prince says and takes my hand again. “Shall we try to get back in there? Let me know if you think you’ll make swords fly again.”
“We can try,” I say and look lovingly into his eyes. It’s not hard to do. Once more he reacted to problems I made with grace and kindness, even during his own wedding reception. He does have some genuinely princely qualities.
We go back in. Everyone bounces up, snapping to attention.
“The Princess Umbra has now taken control of all the Syntrix on Grefve,” Mareliux announces into the silence. “She didn’t want any of it to get away, hence that brief moment of swords flying. We both wanted our wedding to be truly unforgettable for everyone, and now it is. Let us continue the reception!”
A relieved “ahh” goes through the tent, as well as soft, indulgent laughter.
We take our places.
“Everything all right, Princess Umbra?” Sigise asks softly beside me. She’s retrieved her sword and looks none the worse for wear.
“Just had too much Syntrix,” I reply. “I haven’t learned to control it. It should be fine now.”
“One trick to control Syntrix is to close your eyes and imagine being in a dark room,” the colonel says, leaning in close. “You can’t see anything. It makes it harder to imagine objects that you might throw without meaning to.”
“Good tip,” I whisper back. “Thank you.” I turn to Mareliux. “You called me ‘princess’.”
“You’re married to a prince,” he says calmly while the tent settles down and everyone starts eating. “It’s tradition that a prince’s wife receives the title of Princess. The Emperor must formally bestow it, but he hasn’t had time and will do so when he meets you.”
I don’t like the sound of any of this. “Pleasetell me it’s just a title that doesn’t mean anything. I couldn’t handle it.”
