Page 138 of Sonnets and Serpents
The sounds of a faint argument echoed in the hallway, and then Gill’s thirteen-year-old brothers spilled into the room, Leon complaining about the frills on his shirt and Corvin telling him to stop whining on their brother’s wedding day.
Since the ceremony was imminent, Silas decided to give them a few minutes of family time, but before he left, he gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Gilly,” he said quietly. At Gill’s confused frown, he added, “Don’t make me list why. There’s too much. Just marry your queen.”
The castle chapel had been strung with yellow and green banners in defiance of the snow outside. Yellow flowers lined the aisle, and Silas smiled, remembering Eliza’s complaints aboutflower availability in winter. Clearly, she’d prevailed against the challenge in her usual determined way.
Despite being overcrowded and formal, the ceremony was nice—or, at least, it was nice to see how happy it made his best friend. Eliza cried more than the two people actually getting married, and even when the celebration moved to the castle’s expansive ballroom, she was still weepy. Before Silas could offer comfort, she folded herself into him first, clinging like she would never let go.
“It’s a happy occasion,” he drawled.
“Iamhappy,” she griped back, rubbing at her freckles. “I’m also jealous and sad and confused and desperately in want of a lemon tart.”
“One of those things I can remedy, but you’d have to let go.”
“Then forget the tart. I’m more desperately in want of you.”
The words sent a little thrill up his spine, and he rubbed his hand gently over her back, enjoying the way she relaxed in his arms. Any of the gossips at court who didn’t already know the crown princess was courting a disinherited scholar would know by the end of the day, because Eliza was never shy about affection in public, and she made no effort to hide Silas or to present him in a more socially respectable light.
All at once, the answers to the questions he thought were terrifying became simple.
“What are you looking so smug about?” Eliza squinted up at him.
She wore a green silk gown tailored to her figure, her brown hair half-gathered in curls beneath a tiara. She looked like a princess.
Silas tapped her crown. “Dangerous weapon you’re wearing.”
Authority could be wielded in the same way as a sword. The same way as magic. And trusting her to wield her power well was no different than trusting her with a blade. His father and hershad both proven to be dangerous with a weapon, but Eliza and Silas could be different.
Just as he’d once handed her an Artifact in the dark, trusting her to help him, he trusted her now.
Maybe itwouldbe him under the tailor’s pins soon, and maybe he didn’t mind the idea.
Maybe the best day of his life would be the day he chose to share it forever with Eliza.
Eliza’s hand flew to her tiara, and she pulled back, eyes wide. “Weapon? Did it poke you?”
Silas snorted. As the orchestra transitioned from atmospheric music to sultry waltzes, he kissed her hand and led her onto the dance floor—not because he cared for dances, but because he knew she did. The sparkle of joy in her eyes was well worth it.
Between songs, a familiar, timid voice spoke from behind him.
“Silas?”
He turned to find Maggie, rumpling the front of her dress in nervous fingers.
“Excuse me, Y-Your Highness. I was hoping I could ... dance with my brother.”
Eliza beamed. “I’d planned on keeping him all evening, but I suppose I could makeoneexception.” She leaned in to whisper loudly. “If he tries to make a run for the library, let me know.”
Silas would have glared at her teasing, but he was busy watching his sister, his every muscle tensed.
“You aren’t afraid of me?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it.
Tears shimmered in Maggie’s eyes, but she shook her head. “Now I know why you never wanted to come home.”
He couldn’t manage a response to that, so he hesitantly offered his arm, but Maggie slipped beneath it and gave him a hug, sniffling against his vest.
Eliza started crying again, too, and the princess excused herself for lemon tarts.
“I love you,” Maggie whispered. “Please don’t leave again.”
