As they made their way down the street, they stumbled upon a bizarre scene: a woman engaged in a one-sided argument with a decidedly deceased individual. Blood painted the alley in gruesome strokes, transforming it into a macabre canvas. Despite the evident state of expiration—she’d clearly been going at him for some time—the woman seemed to relish the interaction.
A queue of onlookers awaited their turn nearby, eager to have a go at the cadaver piñata.
“Hey, save some fun for the rest of us!” one protested.
A chorus of similar complaints rose up.
With a final flourish of disdain, the woman delivered a parting blow and turned away, leaving the gory spectacle behind. A nearby duo exchanged knowing glances, one of them adorned with a conspicuously absent ear. “Whoever did this,” she proclaimed, “is my new role model.”
Her companion leaned in, delivering the shocking revelation. “It was a woman.”
Udit cast a bewildered glance at Ceres, seeking answers in his nonchalant shrug.
Neither of them had dressed up to get married. Neither of them had the right clothes, and this wasn’t a celebration—not yet. As they approached the magistrate’s office, the atmosphere was one of quiet determination. He envisioned a future where they’d have cause for jubilation but, for now, their marriage was a matter of survival amidst turmoil. While Udit’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her parents’ potential disappointment and the difficult farewell that awaited her, Ceres was burdened by the looming task of confronting Dharun.
“Tell me about weddings on Brontes,” she suggested.
“Ah, that.” Ceres’s tone was tinged with sardonic amusement. “A delightful blend of tradition and social climbing, with a dash of familial manipulation thrown in for good measure. Once upon a time, intermarriage between patricians and plebeans was forbidden, a relic from before we even became an empire. But as we evolved, so did our tolerance for mismatched unions—albeit with a hefty dose of negotiation.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all, his gaze flitting over to Udit, who listened intently. “Imagine weeks—or months—of haggling over marriage contracts, each clause more convoluted than the last. The ceremony itself might be a spectacle, but it’s mainly celebrating the economic ties between two families.”
Udit rolled her eyes. “No wonder you’re so charming.”
“Love is just a sauce,” he remarked, “to sweeten the bitter taste of ambition.”
She gave him a playful shove. “Tell me that the bride, at least, has fun.”
Provided, he supposed, that she wasn’t too keen on self-determination. “The tradition is that her mother dresses her, the morning of the wedding. She wears a long, white robe, paired with yellow shoes. Yellow symbolizes joy,” he added. “And white, innocence and new beginnings. She’s embarking on the next chapter of her life, free from the constraints of her previous status as an unmarried woman. The most important part of her outfit is the belt around her waist, though, and that’s red. Only her new husband can remove it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s sexist!”
He shrugged. “Marriage transfers a woman from her father’s authority to her husband’s. And, in most cases, it’s her father who chooses him.” He’d never questioned the custom before, but as the words left his lips, he couldn’t help but see its flaws in new and stark relief.
“My father told me that women on Brontes had no rights.” Udit sounded reproachful, and more than a little apprehensive.
Ceres pondered her words. In his opinion, it was the women of Mahima IV who were oppressed; life on Brontes, while far from perfect, did give them some semblance of agency—as well as protect them from cretins like Rocana, whose liver was still being used as a football somewhere behind them. “The woman’s consent is required for marriage,” he clarified, noting the irony of the situation. “She must publicly accept her groom, often appearing with him in public while holding hands, sometimes even exchanging rings if he can afford it. But,” he added with a wry smile, “if she refuses, her father usually haggles for a better deal.”
Udit laughed, assuming he was joking.
As they ventured into the magistrate’s office, the air hung heavy with the scent of dusty paperwork and bureaucratic ennui. Ceres approached the clerk, who eyed them with all the warmth of a disgruntled sloth. Amidst the tedious form-filling, the clerk informed them of the customary wait time—a month, perhaps more. But Ceres, ever resourceful, whipped out a hefty roll of darics, causing the clerk’s eyes to light up like a child spotting a candy store. Suddenly, the wheels of bureaucracy spun with newfound alacrity, the marriage certificate now done in a mere ten minutes.
With the bribe complete, they sank into some worn, creaky chairs that seemed to groan at their intrusion. Ceres surveyed the dismal surroundings of the slum’s civic heart, where even the dust motes seemed to have given up on excitement. Udit, sensing the suffocating tension, attempted to break the silence with a nervous joke about religion, but it landed in the room like a lead balloon. Weddings in the Outer Rim were about as extravagant as a budget funeral, usually reserved for the pious or those desperate for legal recognition. Udit shot Ceres a sideways glance. “You’re not the religious type,” she remarked dryly.
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That was the world’s greatest understatement. He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips as he met her gaze. It was an awkward moment, filled with uncertainty, but also oddly hopeful.
With a cue from the clerk, they were ushered into a cramped room where the magistrate awaited, his weary face brightened by a warm smile. There was no pomp or circumstance here, just two souls embarking on a shared journey. A pair of disinterested office workers came in, to stand as witnesses; Udit smiled at them, and squeezed his hand. It struck him as strangely appropriate, this unassuming setting for such a significant moment: it was intimate, raw, and real, in a way that no grand spectacle could ever hope to match. Back on Brontes, he would’ve been decked out in ceremonial robes or at least a suit, and then it occurred to him—she’d never seen him dressed up, before.
The magistrate took a deep breath, readying himself. “Marriage transcends mere social convention,” he intoned, his gaze shifting from Udit to Ceres and back again. “It is a sacred pact, a bond forged in the crucible of love and dedication. It is a promise to weather the storms together, to cherish each other in moments of joy and to be each others’ solace in times of sorrow. It is a commitment to navigate life’s winding path hand in hand, drawing strength from each other’s unwavering support.”
As Ceres looked at Udit, a rush of emotion surged within him, like a tidal wave crashing against his heart. Bathed in the dim light of the room, her features glowed with an otherworldly radiance that stole his breath away. He understood, deep within his soul, that her affections didn’t mirror his own and might never. Yet, he clung to the hope that with time, he could win her love, proving himself as a worthy companion. Even if he couldn’t, though, just being with her was enough.
The magistrate’s unwavering gaze pierced through him, sending a shiver down his spine. “Repeat after me,” he instructed, his tone carrying the strength of centuries-old tradition.
Ceres nodded. “I, Ceres,” he began, his voice an anchor amidst the tempest swirling within him, “offer myself to you in marriage, in accordance with the sacred teachings of the scriptures. I vow, with utmost sincerity, to be a faithful and supportive husband.” Each syllable reverberated within the confined space, laden with the solemnity of the commitment he was undertaking.
Udit’s voice, though faint, echoed the same solemn oath.
In that moment, it was sealed.
Ceres gazed down at his wife, his chest tightening with a mix of adoration and trepidation. Tenderly, he lifted her chin, his touch a delicate caress laced with the depth of his affection. Their lips brushed together in a lingering kiss, wordlessly affirming their new and fragile bond. In that suspended moment, the outside world ceased to exist.
Then it was time to go.
As they made their way back to their hotel, the sun setting, the hushed whispers of the emptying streets magnified the looming shadow of their uncertain future, casting a somber pall over their journey. Each step seemed to echo with the rhythm of his conflicted emotions. Glancing at Udit, he felt a pang of bittersweet longing, knowing that this time together was slipping away with each passing moment. The looming confrontation with Dharun hung over him like a stormcloud, a reminder of the sacrifices demanded by his allegiance to his order. Yet, amidst the turmoil, he couldn’t ignore the overwhelming desire to make it last just a little bit longer.
As they reached the hotel’s entrance, he hesitated, reluctant to let go of Udit’s hand. His gaze lingered on her face, etching every detail into his memory with poignant clarity. With a gentle squeeze, Udit reassured him, her eyes mirroring his own emotions. “We’ll be together soon,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the din of the slum. Taking a deep breath, Ceres nodded, and opened the door. Then, together, they ascended the steps to their room.
As they entered its dim confines, he closed the door behind them with a soft click. The air was thick with anticipation, casting a surreal aura over these once familiar surroundings. Everything looked different, now, transformed by the knowledge that this was their room; she wasn’t his captive, anymore, she was his wife. Switching on the bedside lamp, illuminating the space in a feeble glow, she turned to face him. Her eyes sparkled with a strange mix of tenderness and uncertainty as she waited for him to come to her.
Wordlessly, he enveloped her in his arms, drawing her close. Their hearts danced in sync, a tender melody echoing the burgeoning depth of their fragile connection, each beat a whispered promise of love yet to fully bloom. With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingertips tracing the contours of her cheek. Their kiss was electric, a collision of desire and uncertainty that sparked between them. Udit’s lips were soft against his own, her breath warm on his skin. As they leaned into each other, he felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him, his senses heightened by the knowledge that he was her husband. He could feel the gentle pressure of her fingers against his chest, the angel to his devil, the subtle arch of her body as she pressed closer. And as their lips parted and then met again, he couldn’t help but savor the taste of her, the way her tongue teased his own in a delicate dance of passion.
He broke away reluctantly. “I have to go.”
She understood what he was telling her: Dharun had to be dealt with, however little either of them wanted this confrontation to happen. Their security and the promise of a shared future hung in the balance, until he finished this job—or died trying. “My parents,” she murmured, a hint of apprehension in her voice. “We’re going to tell them, tomorrow?”
He only hoped that there was a tomorrow. “Yes.”
He pressed another lingering kiss to her forehead, a silent promise that he’d return to her unscathed. As he straightened, though, a shadow of concern darkened his features. “Don’t leave this room,” he warned her. “And don’t open this door to anyone—including the desk clerk.” The man had seemed harmless enough, so far, but that meant nothing. Enemies could be anyone, as he’d learned all too well. She nodded, her expression tinged with fear, and he felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. He had a family, again, someone he belonged to and who belonged to him. “We’ll order some food when I come back,” he reassured her, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt. Then, with one last glance, he stepped back into the hall and was gone.