Against The World

On the morning of my wedding, Alistair took away my work boots.

I watched him place them outside the room.

“That seems unnecessary.”

“They have mortar on them.”

“Most things here have mortar on them.”

“Your wedding clothes will not.”

He returned carrying a pair of polished black boots.

I regarded them with suspicion.

“Can I run in those?”

Alistair paused.

“Why?”

“No particular reason.”

“My king.”

“I am nervous.”

“That is apparent.”

He put the boots beside the chair.

Then, to my surprise, he sat across from me.

The castle was already awake. Footsteps moved along the corridor. Somewhere below, musicians repeated the same passage for what felt like the twentieth time.

Outside, Greykeep’s bells rang the morning hour.

The twenty-first of Harvestwane.

We had reached it.

For eighteen days, I had watched tables multiply, flowers arrive, guest rooms fill, and people find new reasons to ask whether I preferred gold or silver.

I had answered silver once.

Helena had informed me that I meant both.

Now there were no more decisions to make.

Only promises.

Alistair studied me.

“You have faced armies with less concern.”

“Armies rarely expect me to remember ceremonial instructions.”

“You know the words.”

“Until someone asks me to say them.”

He smiled.

“Then look at her.”

“What?”

“When the hall becomes too large and the faces too numerous, look at Evelyn. Speak to her.”

I looked down at the ring resting in its small wooden box.

Pale gold.

A narrow line of silver around the center.

The smith had offered gemstones.

I had asked for something she could wear while working.

“I want to do this properly.”

“You will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you are worried about the promise rather than the applause.”

He stood and straightened my collar.

His hands were steady.

His eyes were less so.

“You would have made your family proud,” he said.

The room became quiet.

I thought of Caroline.

Of the people who should have been here to laugh at my clothes, argue over the flowers, or tell an embarrassing story at precisely the wrong moment.

For a few breaths, their absence hurt.

Then Alistair squeezed my shoulder.

I put my hand over his.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

Outside the door, Melody called, “Is he ready?”

“No,” I answered.

“Yes,” Alistair said.

“I trust Alistair,” Melody replied.

That was probably wise.

Mary waited in the corridor.

She wore deep blue with silver stitching at the cuffs. Her hair fell neatly around the sides of her face, framing her cat ears, and the marriage register rested against her chest.

Melody stood beside her in fitted ceremonial armor.

Her rabbit ears rose above a carefully arranged braid.

She wore one sword.

I noticed.

“Eliza won?”

“She always says that.”

“How many did you try to bring?”

“Three.”

Mary looked at her.

“You told me two.”

“I was negotiating.”

Neither of them immediately moved.

They were looking at me.

“What?”

Mary smiled.

“You look like a king.”

“Nice, I was only hoping to look like someone who might survive breakfast without spilling something.”

Melody stepped forward and adjusted one of the silver clasps on my coat.

“You look like Uriah.”

For some reason, that helped more.

She gave the clasp a final tug.

“There.”

Mary held out her hand.

I took it.

“For the record,” she said, “we are very happy for you.”

Melody caught my other hand.

“Even if this means you become more difficult to find.”

“I will still be at council.”

“That is where Mary wants to find you.”

Mary’s ears tilted.

“And where do you want to find him?”

“Somewhere less boring.”

I laughed.

They released me.

Then Mary drew a careful breath and opened the register to the marked page.

“Come on,” she said. “She is nearly ready.”

The hall did not look like the room where I had once argued over leaking roofs.

Blue glass lanterns hung beneath the galleries. White flowers and green branches wound around the pillars, leaving the ancient carvings visible between them.

Sunlight fell through repaired windows.

The Crown of Greykeep hung above the far end of the hall.

Valewood’s silver tree stood beside it.

Beyond the open doors, the square was full.

People crowded the edges of the processional path and leaned from the inspected balconies. Children sat on shoulders. Traders stood beside masons. Families from Westmere and Lowfield had come with the first morning wagons.

Inside, royal delegations occupied their assigned benches among Greykeep’s representatives.

I saw Thomas and his wife.

Abigail sat with the teachers and scribes.

Peter, walking without support now, stood near the open doors.

Eleanor had clean sleeves.

That was perhaps the greatest tribute anyone had offered the occasion.

Beatrice occupied an aisle seat.

I suspected she had chosen it so she could escape to the kitchens if necessary.

At the front waited the officiant, a gray-haired keeper of Aurelia’s rites whom Mary had selected after examining both his credentials and his willingness to keep the ceremony comprehensible.

His name was Brother Orin.

He had smiled when Mary explained that last condition.

“The goddess has never required difficult sentences,” he had said.

I liked him immediately.

Alistair took his place beside me.

Mary stood near the register.

Melody joined the ceremonial guard along the aisle.

The music softened.

Every conversation faded.

Then the doors at the far end opened.

Evelyn entered on her father’s arm.

For a moment, Alistair’s advice became unnecessary.

I could not look anywhere else.

Her gown was ivory beneath a fall of soft green, with silver leaves worked along the bodice and sleeves. The long skirt moved over the stone behind her, its embroidery catching the light as she walked.

Her hair was partly gathered and partly loose, threaded with tiny white flowers.

No crown.

Not yet.

She did not need one.

Garrick walked slowly.

I had seen him face difficult negotiations without hesitation.

Today, he appeared to be measuring every step.

Halfway down the aisle, Evelyn looked at me.

Her formal expression broke.

She smiled.

I smiled back.

The hall became smaller.

When they reached us, Garrick placed her hand in mine.

He did not release it immediately.

“Look after one another,” he said quietly.

“We will,” Evelyn answered.

His gaze moved to me.

“We will,” I affirmed.

He nodded and stepped away.

Helena took his hand when he reached her.

He sat beside her without looking back toward the doors.

Evelyn moved closer.

“You look handsome,” she whispered.

“I had help.”

“I suspected.”

“You look…”

The words abandoned me.

Her eyes warmed.

“That will do.”

Brother Orin waited until the last rustle of clothing had faded.

“We gather to witness two people make a home with one another,” he said.

His voice carried through the hall and, through the old speaking channels, into the square.

“They will speak later as king and queen. First, they speak as Uriah and Evelyn.”

I felt her fingers tighten around mine.

“No house may answer in their place. No title may compel their promise.”

He looked at Evelyn.

“Do you come willingly?”

“I do.”

Then at me.

“Do you come willingly?”

“Yes.”

A small ripple of amusement moved through the nearest benches.

Apparently I had answered before he finished asking.

Brother Orin smiled.

“Then let the promises be your own.”

I had written mine.

Rewritten them.

Asked Mary whether they sounded foolish.

She had returned the page without changing a word.

Now I looked at Evelyn.

“I cannot promise you a quiet life.”

Her smile trembled.

“I think we have established that.”

Soft laughter moved through the hall.

I laughed once, nervously, and continued.

“But I promise that there will be a place beside me that belongs to you. At the table. In every decision that shapes our home. In the good days, and the days when I do not know what to do.”

Her eyes shone.

“I promise to listen when you disagree with me. To tell you the truth, including the parts I would rather hide because I think I should be stronger.”

I swallowed.

“And I promise to remember that loving you means more than trying to keep you safe. It means trusting you. Making room for you. Letting you stand beside me.”

Her thumb moved across my hand.

“I choose you, Evelyn. Today, and in the ordinary days after everyone has gone home.”

For a moment, she could not answer.

Then she breathed in.

“I came here to discover what kind of king you would become.”

She glanced briefly toward her parents.

“I did not expect to discover the person I wanted to come home to.”

Garrick bowed his head.

Helena’s eyes were bright.

“I promise to speak honestly, to stand beside you willingly, and to make room for the man beneath the Crown.”

She looked back at me.

“I will remind you to rest. I will argue when I believe you are wrong. I will help you carry what can be shared, and I will trust you enough to tell you when I need help too.”

Her voice softened.

“I promise that you will not have to earn my affection by being useful every hour of every day.”

That one nearly undid me.

I heard Mary draw a breath nearby.

Evelyn stepped a little closer.

“I choose you, Uriah. In crowded halls and quiet rooms. When the city celebrates, and when all we have managed is one small thing done well.”

Brother Orin gave us a moment.

Then Alistair brought forward the rings.

My hands shook slightly as I placed Evelyn’s on her finger.

She noticed.

She steadied them with her free hand.

When she placed mine, she paused to look at it.

Then she looked at me.

The officiant laid a narrow white ribbon across our joined hands.

“Before those gathered here, under Aurelia’s light, and by the promises freely given, I recognize this marriage.”

The hall was completely still.

Then he smiled.

“Uriah, you may kiss your wife.”

My wife.

For half a heartbeat, those words were all I could think about.

Then Evelyn leaned toward me.

I met her halfway.

The applause began before we stepped apart.

It rolled through the hall and out into the square, where cheering rose loudly enough to drown the musicians.

Evelyn laughed against my shoulder.

I held her a moment longer.

No one seemed to mind.

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