Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [284]
Apparently, Sarene noticed Raoden’s inattention, for she elbowed him in the side when Omin’s speech began to wind down. Ever the stateswoman, she was poised, in control, and alert. Not to mention beautiful.
They performed the ceremony, exchanging Korathi pendants that bore Aon Omi and pledging their lives and deaths to one another. The pendant he gave to Sarene had been delicately carved from pure jade by Taan himself, then overlaid with bands of gold to match her hair. Sarene’s own gift was less extravagant, but equally fitting. Somewhere she had found a heavy black stone that polished up as if it were metal, and its reflective darkness complimented Raoden’s silvery skin.
With that, Omin proclaimed to all of Arelon that its king was married. The cheering began, and Sarene leaned over to kiss him.
“Was it everything you hoped for?” Raoden asked. “You said you have been anticipating this moment for your entire life.”
“It was wonderful,” Sarene replied. “However, there is one thing I have looked forward to even more than my wedding.”
Raoden raised an eyebrow.
She smiled mischievously. “The wedding night.”
Raoden laughed his reply, wondering what he had gotten himself, and Arelon, into by bringing Sarene to Arelon.
EPILOGUE
The day was warm and bright, a complete contrast to the day of Iadon’s burial. Sarene stood outside Kae, regarding the former king’s barrow. Everything Iadon had fought for had been overturned; Elantris had been revitalized and serfdom proclaimed illegal. Of course, his son did sit on the throne of Arelon, even if that throne was inside of Elantris now.
Only a week had passed since the wedding, but so much had happened. Raoden had ended up allowing the nobility to keep their titles, though he had first tried to abolish the entire system. The people wouldn’t have it. It seemed unnatural for there not to be counts, barons, or other lords. So, Raoden had instead twisted the system to his own ends. He made each lord a servant of Elantris, charging them with the responsibility of caring for the people in remote parts of the country. The nobility became less aristocrats and more food distributors—which, in a way, was what they should have been in the first place.
Sarene watched him now, speaking with Shuden and Lukel, his skin glowing even in the sunlight. The priests who said the fall of Elantris had revealed its occupants’ true selves had not known Raoden. This was the true him, the glowing beacon, the powerful source of pride and hope. No matter how metallically bright his skin became, it could never match the radiance of his soul.
Beside Raoden stood the quiet Galladon, his skin glowing as well, though in a different way. It was darker, like polished iron, a remnant of his Duladen heritage. The large man’s head was still bald. Sarene had been surprised at that fact, for all the other Elantrians had grown heads of white hair. When asked about the oddity, Galladon had simply shrugged in his characteristic manner, mumbling, “Seems right to me. I’ve been bald since I hit my third decade. Kolo?”
Just behind Raoden and Lukel, she could make out the silver-skinned form of Adien, Daora’s second son. According to Lukel, the Shaod had taken Adien five years before, but the family had determined to cover up his transformation with makeup rather than throw him into Elantris.
Adien’s true nature was no more baffling than that of his father. Kiin hadn’t been willing to explain much, but Sarene saw the confirmation in her uncle’s eyes. Just over ten years ago, he had led his fleets against Sarene’s father in an attempt to steal the throne—a throne that Sarene was beginning to believe might legally have belonged to Kiin. If it was true that Kiin was the older brother, then