The plush palanquin that King Emery Blacktree was resting in shook as his servants carrying it struggled taking it up the endless stairs of Chateau Cardell.
Emery had kept the shutters closed as soon as they had entered Andervale. The crowds that had gathered around were boisterous and the trip from Dawnhill had been a long one. While he couldn’t blame them for their excitement at the king of Ashen’s royal visit, the last thing he wanted to do was put on a smile and wave to strangers.
The palanquin, while luxurious, became cramped after a while. Years of being stuffed into it like a fish in a barrel did little to ease the muscle-stiffening and claustrophobia that came with long trips.
Across from him on the other seat was Queen Sirillia, still asleep against a tasselled cushion despite the noise and the bumpiness. Emery needed to protect his wife from any sort of stress, so he let her sleep.
Despite being roughly the same age as Emery, in his fourth decade, Sirillia’s skin was wrinkled and pale. She was exhausted from the previous night when a bad fever had ravaged her once again.
Emery had insisted she stay back home in Dawnhill. Andervale was a long way away, but Sirillia was adamant that she attend the wedding of her daughter, no matter the cost to her failing health.
A knock came on the window of the palanquin, waking Sirillia up from her deep slumber. Emery rolled his eyes before sliding the shutter open. A beam of bright light illuminated the lavish palanquin, and in with it came the scents of smoked meats, incense and sea spray.
“Yes? What is it?” Emery said. He hurriedly found his crown and placed it atop his head. He loathed the thought of some lord catching a glimpse of him in an unkempt state. That would be quite the story for the nobility.
Ser Yelin Mortimer was pacing beside the palanquin with a bright red face. The overweight royal guard was feeling every degree of the western heat in his black and silver armour. The shield sigil of Ashen was imprinted into his chestplate.
“Forgive me, my king,” Yelin huffed, sensing Emery’s frustration. “I just wanted to make you aware that we are about to enter the Chateau Cardell bailey. The Seynards are sure to be receiving us shortly.”
Emery nodded, adjusting his crown until it sat in the perfect spot atop his well-washed black curls. “Thank you, Ser Yelin. And Ciana, is she alright?”
“Aye, my king. Giddy to get out and stretch her legs, though.”
“Make sure she is prepared to greet the Seynards.”
“Aye, my king.”
“Any word of Petir and Jodie, yet?” Emery added.
Yelin nodded. “They sent a rider to let us know they will be late. Their carriage lost a wheel on the road earlier in the day. They requested the festivities go on without them.”
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“If there’s one thing I know about Caldaeans, it is that the festivities wait for no one.” Emery said with a smirk.
Yelin chuckled. “Aye, my king.”
The palanquins containing the royal family passed Andervale’s Church of Luminance. The immense structure was so large that it blocked the sun with its towering grey steeples, grander than most chantries back home.
Emery slid the shutter closed and looked to his loving wife who was brushing her thinning hair. He struggled to tell if she was smiling or frowning.
“Are you feeling up to this? If you are still unwell, we can request that you be taken to your quarters as soon as we get there,” Emery said.
“Of course, my love.” Her voice, while scratchy, still had the same softness that Emery had fallen in love with. It was the sort of voice that hinted at a kind soul. “I will be fine. It would be rude of me not to be properly received by our hosts.”
“Pfft,” Emery scoffed. “As if Tobius Seynard has any manners left in that decrepit mind of his.”
“Emery, hush. We are not here to trade petty comments. I don’t want any of that, not today.”
Emery poured some purple wine from a pitcher into a goblet and handed it to her. “Drink up. It’s a hot day outside.”
“Nice and cool in her, though. Thankfully.”
The palanquin continued uphill into the Chateau as the king and queen groomed themselves ready to be presented.
“Did you sleep alright?” Emery asked.
Sirillia shrugged. “I had that same strange dream again. Waves of blood upon rocks. The decaying husks of shellfish in a never-ending sea.” She scratched her head; even saying it out loud sounded ridiculous.
“I will ask for one of Tobius’s apothecaries to give you something to help you sleep better tonight. A dreamless sleep will do you good.”
“What is sleep without dreams, my love?”
“In your case, a sound sleep!”
Sirillia sipped at the sweet wine. “I can’t believe our little girl is being wed today,” she said.
Emery nodded, reassuringly tapping his wife’s outstretched hand.
“I… I want to be happy for her,” she continued with some hesitation.
“Now, now,” Emery said. “You were her age when you were married off to me. And look how well that has turned out for all of us?”
His wife smiled back, accentuating her crow’s feet. “Few are as lucky as we have been. Most marriages result in surprise bastards and unhappy wives.”
“Do you remember our wedding night back in Dawnhill?”
“Like it was yesterday.” Sirillia could practically hear the bells ringing and feel the falling petals brushing against her face.
“I fondly recall my father stumbling during his speech and falling into our cake,” Emery joked.
Sirillia could not hold back a grin. “In front of everybody!”
“It was a mess,” Emery laughed. “It really was a night I will never forget. The jesters claimed he could not wait for the toasts to end and needed to eat right then and there.”
Sirillia’s laughing slowly silenced as she was drawn back into despair. No matter how hard she tried, fear gripped Sirillia like a vice. Fear for her daughter, a deep fear that only a mother could ever truly understand.
“Worry not, my love,” Emery said calmly. “All is well, and all will be well from this day onward.”
“I know,” Sirillia said. She organised the ruffles on dress.
“Ciana is very lucky to be marrying a prince from such a prominent family. She will be looked after for the rest of her life, living on the Emerald Sea, with pristine views of the Midsummer Gardens and servants to attend to her every need.”
Despite Sirillia’s nodding, Emery could still sense her hesitation and concern.
“House Seynard may have once been our adversary, but her sacrifice will bring peace to all. This wedding has to happen.”
“I know,” Sirillia said.
“So, let’s make the most of it, for Ciana’s sake.”
The palanquin lurched to a halt and the servants carrying it lowered it to the ground. Trumpets played outside and Ser Yelin unlatched the door and swung it open.
“Let us embrace peace,” Emery whispered to his unsure wife, before stepping from the palanquin, holding his neck up high with straight shoulders, out into the sunshine to a large group of applauding royals and nobles.