Page 100 of Shift of Morals
I broached a delicate subject. “What about the bonding ceremony?”
Her face paled. “Don’t do anything to disrupt that.” A delicate shudder rolled over her small frame. “None of us wish to anger the gods.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said as I gave her the side-eye. “A little worrisome you think I’m that destructive, though. What I’m saying is what if the gods don’t bless the wedding?”
Simone went still for a long moment before she carefully set her wineglass down. “And why would that be on the options list?”
I blinked at her. “Um. Because the gods are fickle and unpredictable?”
“Uh huh. And why does it sound like you have personal experience with them?”
“Err.”
She closed her eyes and pinched the space between her eyebrows. “Right. Is there something you need to tell me?”
“What? No! I don’t make deals with gods. That’s crazy pants.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. There have only been a couple of times where the gods refused a union, but both times, the couple was terribly wrong for each other. Gianna, as much as I hate to say it, has the necessary pedigree and bloodline. She’s politically savvy and ruthless. On paper, Caelan could do a lot worse.”
“Then there’s no reason for the gods to rebuff them.”
“Right. Unless they know something we don’t.”
“It’s possible.” We ate and drank a little more before Simone rose, clutching her ever trusty device to her chest. “It was worth a shot, I guess. But if you decide to cause a shitshow at the wedding, maybe give a girl a little advanced warning?”
I sucked my teeth. “Sorry. Shenanigans are rarely planned, but I’ll do my best.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “See you tomorrow.”
I waved. “If any of the Lords propose tomorrow, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
She laughed and headed out the door but stopped before she went out. “Evie?”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you should know that Caelan has never once planned a party or any event at the keep where flowers were involved until the day I dragged him into your shop.” Her smile was sad. “Every other time was at his suggestion.” She left before I could respond, plunging the house into silence.
I sat there for a long time pondering tomorrow and her words and wondering how Caelan’s marriage might affect my life. But I’d be damned if I let the Council swoop in and try to dictate who I decided to marry, if I ever married.
On that note, I cleaned up the dirty dishes and headed to bed. I had a long day tomorrow.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
We stood in a circle around a small, sparsely decorated table, the bonding floral arrangement in the center. A somber air had fallen in the Keep’s chapel, the atmosphere tense and watchful. Caelan stood beside Gianna, his form powerful and sleek in a black tuxedo, the boutonniere I’d made him on his lapel. His jaw was tight and his eyes haunted. We’d locked eyes once on our way into the chapel, and I don’t think I’d ever unsee the burning power in his gaze. We did not speak even though I had a million things I wanted to say, knowing I could let none of those words pass my lips. A sense of profound loss weighed on my shoulders as I stood there, watching Caelan marry another, but to say anything out of turn could ruin me, and as a way of collateral, everyone else I cared about, too.
Gianna wore a bright white gown with a startling thread of crimson on the bodice. She looked cold yet resplendent in her wedding finery, though there was a touch of exhaustion on her features I’d never seen before. Her lips were pinched tight together and her knuckles white around her bouquet.
Caelan had made the decision to only allow the Council and a few favored guests to view the bonding ceremony. Everyone else waited in the separate area of the chapel where most of the wedding ceremonies took place. This was a smaller room, one with stained glass windows and a pulpit for services—a warm and comforting place. Or it would be if we weren’t standing around like we were lined up for a firing squad.
My skin itched. Weddings were supposed to be joyous times of celebration. Not this tense and terse affair.
“Are we ready to begin?” Hazel asked from right beside me.
The witch had left home for Scotland two weeks ago but had flown back for the wedding after Caelan had personally requested her presence. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had a soft spot for the Lord.
She was dressed in traditional robes denoting the type of witch she was, her wild strawberry hair tamed into a neat braid. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she wore no jewelry. Ceremonies like this required the witch to come in supplication to the gods the way they came into the world. Devoid of ornamentation and humble.
