Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [138]
I knew the names, or most of them. Religion in Alba was at once complex and simple, a mixture of deities, ancestors, and earth spirits. There were no temples, only sacred places. Of those, there were thousands. I had to own, though I understood the lore, I didn't yet grasp the faith in my flesh and bones. But mayhap it would come in time. For our child's sake, I would try.
After the deities, the ollamhs invoked the blessing of the diadh-anams, the guiding spirits of the Four Folk; the Black Boar, the Red Bull, the Golden Stag, and the White Horse. The sun was hot overhead, and I felt sweat trickle along my brow. It was the only thing, I thought, that these two wedding ceremonies had in common.
It seemed like a very long time ago that I'd stood beside Dorelei in the Palace gardens, sweltering and heartsick in my high-collared doublet.
When the ollamhs had done with their invocations, they beckoned. Dorelei and I came forward and presented ourselves to them, bowing deeply. "Dorelei mab Breidaia, Imriel de la Courcel. Shall you plight your troth to one another?" Firdha asked.
"Daughter of the Grove, for a year and a day, we shall," Dorelei answered firmly. There was a little murmur among the onlookers at her words, not necessarily disapproving. We had discussed this at length, she and I. Albans practiced two forms of marriage; one binding, one less so. If, after a year and a day, we chose to part, the matter would be ended, at least as far as Alba was concerned.
Firdha nodded. "So be it. Join your hands.”
We faced one another. I crossed my wrists, clasping Dorelei's hands in mine. We stood and smiled at one another as first Firdha, then Colum, twined our wrists together with red yarn, adding to the layers that already bound mine, invoking another lengthy series of blessings for health, happiness, and fertility.
The ollamh Colum tapped my shoulder with his golden oak branch. "Speak your vows.”
"By stone and sea and sky, and all that they encompass, for a year and a day, I pledge myself to you, and you alone," I said softly.
Dorelei's hands tightened on mine, slippery with sweat. Her dark eyes were raised to meet my gaze. The first time we'd wed, I'd been the one felt the sting of sacrifice.
This time, it was she.
For so long as our lives were bound together, for so long as I was bound by Aodhan's charms, her dreams would be silent. What that meant to Dorelei, I couldn't even begin to imagine. I was humbled by it. "By stone and sea and sky, and all that they encompass…" Her throat moved as she swallowed. "I pledge myself to you, and you alone.”
There were cheers then, surprisingly hearty. The ollamhs invoked a final blessing, and then Dorelei and I walked around the circle together, side by side, our wrists still conjoined. When we reached Drustan, we found the Cruarch smiling.
"Rejoice, daughter of my sister," he said to Dorelei; and to me, placing a thick gold torc around my nearly bare neck, "Be welcome, Prince of Alba.”
More cheers.
I felt humbled by them and bowed my head. "I will try to be worthy, my lord.”
Drustan's eyes glinted. "I know.”
When we had completed the circle, we returned to the center. The ollamhs unbound our wrists and presented us with the lengths of red yarn; Firdha's to Dorelei, Colum's to me. They were luck-charms now, meant to be saved for the birth of our first child. With these threads, we would tie off the birth-cord that bound mother to babe, preparing it to be severed.
"Ward them well," Firdha said.
Dorelei and I glanced at one another. "We will," I promised.
So we were wed a second time, and the second was better than the first; far better. As I glanced around the circle of folk who surrounded us, I saw only love and good wishes. No one had wept at our D'Angeline nuptials, but now I saw Ph