Eagles and Swans
Chapter 21: Love and Rebellion
The tangle of lights and voices made Ruthenia stumble, and only her grip on Aleigh’s arm stopped her tripping over the steps.
Perfumes and wine vapours rolled in like a fog, and she stared at the velvet carpeting at her feet, wondering at how spotless it was.
At once there was a surge of gasps and shouts, as the guests moved to welcome the Arcane Prince out of the elevator. A wave of blazing camera flashes followed. She heard exclamations of “Your Highness” and shouted questions. Ruthenia blinked and shielded her eyes with a hand, letting his arm drop.
“My family’s in the front row,” he whispered amid the lights, carving a pathway through the crowd with the sternest glare he could muster. She raced after, fleeing the xenon flashes.
For many dizzying seconds they dodged through the glittering crowd, Ruthenia tripping and stumbling in her unfamiliar sandals. A man with an uncanny grin accosted the two with the bell of a recorder, shouting over the din, “Your Highness, care to introduce this lovely lady to us?”
She went still. “I—uh—”
But before she could keep talking, Aleigh had dragged her away on a detour down a row of chairs to the next aisle. “Don’t answer.” She staggered and caught her breath as they advanced to the front of the hall.
Lights glowed merrily in wrought iron sconces, on pillars between curtained windows. Towards the front of the hall, the crowd thinned until the aisles were clear and only the seats were filled, and they slowed to a walk. Her eyes surveyed the area: the mostly-blond gathering beside the stage that was Arcane royal family was impossible to miss over the heads of the seated guests. Her companion picked up his pace.
But that meeting would have to wait. A flash of blue cloaks stopped them mid-step. Ruthenia looked up, and felt the breath catch in her throat, as the face of the newcomer connected with her memory of every portrait she’d seen of it.
“Good evening, Aleigh,” said Ordinary King Hazen, touching a hand to his heart with the other extended.
“Good evening, Hazen,” the Arcane Prince replied, clasping the extended hand with a dip of his head.
She was not ready when the king turned to regard her, with the same hand held out. “And to you too, miss. Who might you be?”
“Good evening—Your Majesty,” she answered, face heating up as she ransacked her memory for the right gesture. She lowered her left knee, taking the hand he offered and touching her forehead to his fingers. By the time she rose, she was shaking. “I’m Ruthenia. It’s an honour to meet you.”
“I like your dress—the red matches your hair.” It took her several seconds to decide how she felt about being complimented on her clothing. But when she looked up to retort, Hazen was no longer looking at her. “Is she from the families?” he said, stroking his chin with a thumb.
“Not at all,” Aleigh replied. “Ruthenia is my classmate.”
“Interesting.” Hazen raised an eyebrow. “Then she wasn't Aligon's choice?”
“Excuse me, I’m still here!” Ruthenia cut in loudly. “I can speak for myself on that matter.”
“Yes, of course, how rude of me,” the Ordinary King muttered, sparing her a moment’s odd look before smiling. “How did this arrangement come to be?”
“Well, I did Aleigh's mother a big favour recently, and now he's returning it by getting me an invitation. Really appreciate it, by the way.” She offered the quietly glowering Arcane Prince a nod.
“Is that so! You're the one Talia was on about. You must have done them a great service.”
“Hey, it was nothing,” she answered with a giddy grin.
Hazen did not once lose his smile, nor did it ever feel forced. “You are a most unique lady, Ruthenia. It is lovely to have you here. Don't be giving the young Arcane Prince too much trouble.”
“He can deal,” she chuckled.
She saw Aleigh go tense at her response, but Hazen did not seem perturbed, only offered a nod. “I hope you enjoy your visit to the palace, and good day to the both of you. As you were.”
Only once he had departed did her compaion sighed. “Other guests would not have taken so kindly to your interruptions,” he said, to which she grinned innocently. “I'll be seeing my family now, would you like to come along?”
“I think I'll watch from afar. To start, anyway.”
She trailed after him, towards the merry gathering. A waiter with a tray of canapes intercepted her. She picked up a tiny strawberry cake. Munching on the confection, she watched each member of the family circle turn to him, glances turning to grins and greetings. “There you are!” exclaimed a woman in a dazzling gown of blue sequins. “Aleigh, come congratulate your dear cousin!”
With that, he was absorbed into the circle. “He’s here?” A high voice rose above the clamour behind, before a short lady with shocking red hair flew past Ruthenia to poke her head into the huddle, a startlingly long maroon gown trailing behind her. “Anio, get over here, it’s your little cousin!” She sprang upon the Arcane Prince with a hug. “So delighted to see you, Your Highness!”
“Good evening, Cathia, and congratulations,” he answered, returning the hug. The bride! thought Ruthenia, sneaking surreptitiously closer to listen.
“Aw, thank you, you're too sweet! Read any good books lately?”
“I've made most of my way through The Temper of Darkness. It's decent, but not quite the classic I was expecting, considering all the buzz.”
“Oh, disappointing, I was looking forward to that one. Tell you what, let's chat about it after the festivities.”
It was then that Lord Anio—or so Ruthenia assumed—swept in from the opposite side of the gathering and threw his free arm around Cathia, raising the wineglass in his other hand. “How are you, my love?”
“I'm so excited,” sang the woman, draping an arm about Anio's waist. “Can you believe we’re getting married tonight?”
“No lovelier match in the heavens or on Tierra, if I do say so myself!” answered Anio with a smile, bowing to kiss her head. Ruthenia saw that he bore a passing resemblance to Aleigh, but his hair was cropped short and combed back, and his manner was far more open, as if the polite geniality of nobility came naturally to him. Cathia laughed and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.
As the conversation settled down and their attentions started drifting to their surroundings, Ruthenia began to inch away. But then it was too late, for the blonde woman in the blue gown had spied her, and, as if seeing a treasure in the distance, flew out of the circle at once with eyes trained upon her.
She stood frozen in place, still making sense of the sight, as the lady cried out, “Ruthenia?” and engulfed her in an embrace. “Oh, I have wanted to meet you for so long!”
“I—how do you know me—are you Aleigh’s mother?” Ruthenia gasped as the thoughts cascaded together. She looked up as the woman let go, the similarity of their faces only just beginning to strike her.
“You are completely right,” replied Talia. She offered her hand, which Ruthenia took in the same gesture as she’d made unto Hazen. “Oh, forgive me. My son—the elder, that is—would roll his eyes at my candidness. But I have so much to thank you for that I cannot treat you as any less than a friend.”
“I was just doing my job,” said Ruthenia, surprised at the Arcane Viz's voice. She cast a glance about. “King Aligon isn’t here yet, is he?”
Talia chortled. “He takes his time, simply because he can. How are you enjoying the palace so far?”
“He takes his time, simply because he can. How are you enjoying the palace so far?”
They were interrupted by a clatter of footsteps from behind. A pair of hands gripped her shoulders, making her yelp. Before she could wrench herself out of that grasp, she had been spun around. “And who’s this!” sang the newcomer, who turned out to be Cathia herself, beaming widely when their eyes met. “You look lovely! But I don't think I've seen you around.”
“Do I look like I’m from around here?” Ruthenia answered, starting to grin despite herself. “Good evening, Lady, Lady-to-Be Cathia.”
“Oh yes, this is Ruthenia,” said Aleigh from over her left shoulder. “She is a guest attending by my goodwill.”
“And a friend to the family,” added Talia.
Cathia glanced from one face to another, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, Aleigh, I mean your Highness, is she your partner?” she said.
“No, no, no!” Ruthenia gasped. “I’m here on my own business. I have less than no interest in him.”
Cathia laughed. “Who let this eagle into the company of swans?”
Before any more words could be exchanged, a blaring voice burst through, cutting short all conversation. “Good evening, guests!” it declared. “And our very warmest thanks for your attendance at this wedding ceremony—of Lord Anio Veritian, son of Lady Hespera Veritian sister of Arcane Viz Talia Luzerno mother of Arcane King Aligon Luzerno, to his betrothed, Cathia Argola to be Lady Cathia Veritian, on this evening of the Twenty-First of August, Year Four Hundred and Ninety One! Sorry, big list of names to get through. I am the master of ceremonies, Lord Kamaro Arbel, although just Kamaro will do, if we should run into each other during the proceedings.”
The Arcane royal family hurried to seat themselves in the front row. The seats had already been decided, it appeared, and Ruthenia found hers beside Aleigh’s, her name printed in capital letters on the placard lying upon it.
There was a showering of congratulatory applause all around, and another wave of camera flashes. Almost at once, Kamaro launched into flourishes of prose concerning his nephew’s first encounter with his wife-to-be. The story became increasingly flowery as the scenes unfolded.
“…and in the summer of Four-Eight-Five, the summer of our era, as our good Kings Hazen and Aligon here ascended to the thrones of the country, so did Lord Anio offer his gift of engagement to Cathia, high on a balcony in a restaurant in the middle of Helika.” Now he whirled to face the pair in the middle of the central aisle. “Here we have them, Lord Anio and Lady Cathia!”
Kamaro gestured for them to rise—and laughingly, the couple stood to face their guests, taking each other’s hands.
“And, wait a second, who have we here?” Kamaro gasped, and his gesture towards the back of the room made every head turn in a single concerted movement.
At the far end of the hall, the lift doors slid open, and admitted the most gaudily dazzling couple Ruthenia had ever laid her eyes upon.
The man was unmistakeable with his head of wavy golden hair, a red uniform half-shrouded in a gold-trimmed red cloak glittering with gemstones. He waved as he traversed the centre aisle, offering his hand to those in the closest seats so they could kiss his fingers. Beside him, his wife wore luxurious gold silk, her brow and bodice adorned with almost as many gems as her husband’s cloak.
There were looks and squeals of adoration all around. Aleigh only shook his head and sighed. “Never one to forgo a chance to look ridiculous.”
There was a flurry of shifting and turning in Ruthenia’s row, as the Arcane King and his wife took their seats between Aleigh and their father. Queen Xenia fussed over her gown as she sat, apologising to Aleigh as she swept the folds under herself.
Before Xenia could notice her staring, Ruthenia turned to face forward, licking her lips. She could already hear the Arcane King chattering jauntily with his father, two seats away.
“My dear guests,” resumed Kamaro, “now that all our royal guests have arrived, we may proceed with the wedding ceremony! Could the bride and groom please join me onstage?”
There was polite applause for Anio and Cathia, Kamaro ceding the space to them as they ascended the stairs to the stage, hands still clasped in each other’s.
Kamaro exchanged a few greetings with the wedding couple, before turning to the left end of the stage. “And now, may I invite His Holy Grace, Archbishop Tiel, to the stage as well?”
Cold dread gripped Ruthenia like a cold hand. She watched with short breaths as the man emerged from the shadows to the left of the stage, and the fear clung and throbbed, threatening to spill memories.
Archbishop Tiel was robed in blue-trimmed white, a stark contrast to the glittery gathering below. A slender leather-bound book was clasped in one hand, his iron staff in the other; she bowed away, unable to watch, and listened to the staff thump on the wood as he made his gradual way across the stage.
When she finally found the strength to raise her gaze, he had come to stand before Anio and Cathia.
She’d never thought about the man’s age, but now she could see him close, she saw he looked barely forty, with an old haircut and an upright stature, almost too young for his ancient robes.
Turning to the audience, Tiel commenced a speech distinctly theological, about love as a force that made life what it was, every so often acknowledging the presence of the couple standing stiffly centre-stage.
“And so, as claims the philosopher Elode,” said the man, “love is the soul’s dissent against the selfishness that nature demands of us. It is an intellectual gift that raises us above animals—the gift to know oneself, and then to know another. Love is knowing we are all incomplete, and entrusting those shortcomings to the care of another. Loving is becoming, in part, another, and they becoming, in part, oneself. It is a beauteous act, to love, and to commit to that love. Love is the dissent of the soul, and marriage is an act of rebellion.”
“What do you know about love or rebellion?” Ruthenia muttered.
Tiel shut his small book, and paused for a moment. “Will the couple please stand,” he announced then. He stood his staff on the ground, the swan atop it rising above his head.
Anio and Cathia ascended from their seats. Till then they would not stop holding each other’s hands—clinging, as if it kept them alive. She watched them walk to the front of the stage where Tiel waited. The Archbishop turned his staff about in his hand, so the swan faced the couple before him.
“Lord Anio Veritian, swear by Ihir and the sign of the Swan that you will take Cathia Argola into union with yourself so you are hers as much as you are your own, and swear that this union, made sacred in Ihir’s name, will not be broken, no circumstances and conditions withstanding, no willing change of heart or mind.”
“I swear by Ihir and the sign of the Swan, the above and all things implied,” Anio said earnestly, but his gaze was all for Cathia.
The entire process was repeated with Cathia, identical words and gestures. But her answers came differently: as she spoke, her fingers tightened, and when the words left her, they came furious and high, and accented like a New Town Solan’s. It almost made the event, in all its cold legality, a little less frigid.
“Then by Ihir and the sign of the Swan,” Tiel’s voice rose again. “Your marriage is sanctified and officiated, Lord Anio Veritian and Lady Cathia Veritian.”
In a rousing tide of applause that ascended like a wave without warning, Anio jubilantly took his wife by the shoulders in a whirl of robes, Cathia leaping onto her toes to kiss him. Ruthenia clapped along. The cameras were clicking indiscriminately away once more. Their empty film rolls filled up with pictures of the new lord and lady.