Page 73 of Frost Like Night
Leaves crunch under my slippers as I enter the clearing, and a few heads pivot to see who it is. But the musicians remain silent, so most people stay facing ahead. Ceridwen’s friends Lekan, Kaleo, and Amelie stand with Jesse’s children; an Autumnian maid holds a rare quiet Shazi; and my Winterians stand off to the right, each dressed in borrowed Autumnian finery, some as small as a satin sash over theirregular clothes, others as elaborate as the head-to-toe outfit I’m in.
Nessa waves to me from where she stands with Dendera and Conall, and I go to her, drawn more by the person beside her, the one whose eyes widen at the sight of me. Mather wears a tunic so dark blue that it’s nearly black. Gold thread creates elaborate patterns around the high collar and wrists, and the tight cut of it hugs close to his arms and chest. A few strands of hair hang around his face, the rest knotted in a ribbon.
I stop next to him. “Hi,” I whisper.
His lips part. “Hi,” he whispers back. His eyes sweep over my outfit, and he fingers the silver beads woven into fabric that drapes over my arms, a sort of shawl, the swift gust of movement toward me enough to send my heart launching up into my throat.
“You’re beautiful,” he adds.
My head goes dizzy. This is what I get, though, for letting myself admit to my feelings for him—incapacitating giddiness that makes me sure I’m smiling just as dreamily as Ceridwen was moments ago.
I want to pull some sense of control over myself, compose my features so I’m not quite so . . . off-balance? I can’t think of the right word. I can’t think of anything, actually, as Mather’s eyes stay on mine. Suddenly he seems just as off-balance as I am.
When the musicians start to play, what was already aperfect moment becomes even more idyllic. The clearing fills with a violin’s rising hum, and as one the crowd turns.
I don’t look over my shoulder, though. My eyes go to Jesse and Caspar, standing with arms clasped behind their backs at the head of the group, their eyes, like everyone else’s, on Ceridwen. Jesse’s tunic is sleeveless, the same deep red as Ceridwen’s outfit. He wears a mask, this one crafted from red fabric, simple and unadorned.
But not even a full mask could hide the awe that soars across his face when he sees her.
His shoulders droop. His hands fall limp against his sides. The tense lines around his eyes smooth away. His dazed amazement is full of such pure love that I smile, because there’s no other possible response.
Mather links one of his fingers with mine.
I can’t draw a full breath, not as the instruments weave their bittersweet song, not as I look up at Mather and see the exact same look on his face. Dazed, with maybe just the slightest bit of fear. Seeing that flash of fear speaks to my own, and I think one unbearable thought.
I want this.
The song rises in volume as Ceridwen gets closer to Caspar and Jesse. She meanders through the crowd as Nikoletta instructed. When she steps free, Jesse lets out a choked breath and snatches her hands as if she were one of the leaves spiraling haphazardly through the air, uncatchable and chaotic and beautiful.
The song ebbs, leaving the clearing so still the wind practically roars. Caspar’s dark eyes shift from Ceridwen to Jesse and back, his lips unfurling in the same smile we’re all wearing.
“Ceridwen Preben, princess of Summer, and Jesse Donati, king of Ventralli, have asked that we witness them unite in the strongest bond of all,” Caspar begins, raising his voice over the crowd. “We live in a time of great pain and fear. The only way to truly defeat that pain is to feel equally great joy in the face of it, and this”—Caspar smiles—“is undeniable joy.”
He pulls a few items out of his pocket, holding them up for the crowd to see. A jar of black paint and a thick brush.
“In Autumn, marriages are celebrated as the rings of trees, each ring growing with time and dedication to create a union of just as much strength. Jesse.” Caspar hands him the brush and uncorks the jar. “The first ring.”
Jesse takes the brush and dips it into the paint. Hand steady, he paints a thick black ring around Ceridwen’s upper arm.
“Ceridwen,” Caspar continues, holding the jar out to her. “The first ring.”
She takes the brush from Jesse, gathers up paint, and leans over his arm. Her line is less steady, her hand shaking, but the way Jesse watches her, it’s clear neither of them cares.
When she finishes, Caspar takes the brush and stepsback from them. “You are now one ring, one tree. Whatever the world presents, you will meet it together. Ceridwen and Jesse.” Caspar’s voice drops out of formality and into joviality. “Congratulations.”
He waves his arms, presenting the newlyweds to the crowd, and everyone breaks into applause as the musicians begin to play a faster melody. Ceridwen and Jesse leap at each other, practically toppling to the ground as they kiss.
Magic trickles out of me, calling the leaves on the ground to spin in a gentle spiral around Ceridwen and Jesse. They pull apart to gape at the swirl of color, but it only encourages their happiness and they dissolve against each other.
“No wedding is complete without a feast!” Nikoletta calls through the din. “Join us tonight.”
Cheers rise up and the crowd starts to steadily move out of the clearing, trailing Nikoletta to whatever feast they arranged. The current pulls Mather away, but Nessa catches me, her arm linking through mine.
“That was perfect!” she exclaims. “I want an Autumnian wedding one day.”
I laugh. “What about a Winterian wedding?”
Nessa smiles, dreamy. “Maybe I just want awedding. Or, not so much a wedding as—”
