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We actually get them to the wedding this chapter!


Alistair had actually felt sleepy for once, probably because of the drink they'd all been imbibing, and had gone off to bed. Since the bachelor party had never materialized, Zevran had retired to the Pearl for the evening, promising to indulge enough to make up for the rest of them. Oghren was currently snoring in sodden disharmony beneath the dining room table, where the maids would undoubtedly be displeased to find him in the morning. Which left Fergus and Corin sitting in front of the fire in Eamon's sitting room.

"There was no carousing," Fergus complained. "The one time we're both of age and single, and there was no carousing. You spent your last night as a bachelor with a Revered Mother, of all things." But he did not seem particularly put out, sipping his Starkhaven whiskey as he stared thoughtfully into the fire.

"I promised Anora I'd only sleep with her," came Corin's response as he shifted a little in his chair to get more comfortable. His healing was all but complete, he'd even begun to cautiously spar again in the last week, but there was still the odd twinge now and again.

"Isn't that pretty much covered by the betrothal vow?"

"We both know that wedding and betrothal vows are paid lip service to, particularly among noblemen. After the way Cailan treated her, Anora needed me to make that extra oath. And it's not as if it's a hardship being faithful to her."

"Really? I had wondered." Fergus' tone was carefully neutral. Corin straightened up and gave him a stare as cutting as blue diamond.

"Did Cailan ever talk about…them…to you?"

"A little, every now and then." Cailan's closest friend grimaced. "He didn't say much-I gather he felt it wasn't fair to Anora-but he was disappointed and rather puzzled."

Corin snorted and settled back in his chair. "Apparently, he would rather have complained than have tried anything new or different. Anora's perfectly good in bed. She just needed a little coaxing and encouragement. I'm sorry, I know he was your friend, but the evidence has forced me to conclude that the man was a clod in the sack."

"It's possible. Subtlety and Cailan weren't even remotely acquainted," Fergus admitted. After a moment of silence, he asked, "So-the two of you are getting along well? I must say that as Anora's friend, it feels really weird to me that you're marrying her. But I also have to say that I appreciate that you have such care for her."

"As of tomorrow, she'll be my wife as well as my Queen and the mother of my child. Of course I have care for her. And yes, we get along very well. I consider myself fortunate. She's got brains and courage and a full set of wits. Which is much more than I might have gotten anywhere else." Corin sipped his own drink. "Speaking of which-any ideas about what to do with the Orlesian princess who's floating around the court? I suspect she was intended as a temptation for me, to cause trouble."

"An attractive, nubile young virgin who is actually tolerable for an Orlesian and is mad about horses? Whatever gave you that idea?" Fergus asked, grinning. Corin shook his head.

"It's totally unlikely, isn't it? Seriously, though. Think you could see your way clear to marrying her? The alliance might keep Orlais off of our backs, for a while at least."

The Teyrn of Highever's face darkened and his brow furrowed. He threw back some more whiskey before replying, "If you absolutely needed me to for the sake of the kingdom then I would, Corin. But I would rather not. I'm not much inclined to be marrying at all right now, as you well know."

"I know." Corin's voice was soft for a moment. Then it hardened. "But I need you to put an heir on the ground as soon as possible, Fergus, with whomever you think you can do that with. More than one, preferably. This child may be the only one I ever get, as I explained to you, and there's no guarantee that Anora will carry it successfully. And if Alistair doesn't come through-and he suffers from the same handicap I do-you're next in line for the throne."

"You don't have to tell me anything about child mortality, Corin!" Fergus snapped. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, Pup. Raw nerve there. And I know what my responsibilities are. I'd just like to go back to Highever first, and make sure things are settled there before I start courting anyone."

Fergus's little brother knew when it was time to back off. "I think that's a good idea," he said in a conciliatory tone. "We can certainly spare you that much time. Are you still thinking of Alfstanna?"

"Yes. Alfie has apparently been longing for me since she was a girl." At Corin's raised eyebrow, Fergus chuckled. "I know, I know, it's unfathomable! But we've worked together enough over the years that I feel I know her pretty well, and I'm comfortable with her. A marriage where there's friendship on one side to start and love on the other seems as if it would work well enough." He gave Corin a penetrating look. "Isn't that what you're counting on?"

"Touché. You've got me there."

"What about letting Alistair marry Henriette?"

"I've been weighing the pros and cons of that one quite a bit myself, and haven't come to a conclusion yet. I don't really like the idea of putting even more Orlesian blood into the Theirin line than is already there, should Alistair's true parentage come to light." Corin had apprised Fergus, with Alistair's permission, of the tale of Fiona.

"Any reason to think it would?" Fergus asked skeptically. "I mean, outside of us, Alistair, Anora, Eamon and Teagan, nobody knows. Unless you think Isolde does."

Corin shuddered. "There's a scary thought! No, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know the whole story, given that she was so certain Eamon was Alistair's father for so long."

"Henriette is a nice girl. No pretense at all. She's arguably better off with us than her countrymen. And I think she and Alistair would suit."

"That's on the positive side of the ledger for me as well. But as a further negative, you know that Anora and I are giving him Amaranthine tomorrow. That's going to be hard enough for him without an Orlesian wife."

"True enough." Fergus' face went grave and still for a moment. Corin immediately went on the alert, for he knew that expression well.

"Something the matter, Fergus?"

"I need to give you a warning. Uncle Leonas cornered me today after Council, said he wanted me to talk to you about something."

"Which was?"

"He wants Alistair for Habren."

Corin shook his head. "Absolutely not! Cousin Habren is a nasty little piece of work. We promised Alistair we'd find him a nice wife!"

"You may not have a choice, Corin. Uncle Leonas has Dragon's Peak, Ceorlic and some of the Bannorn lords backing him. Nasty piece of work or not, Habren is the highest-ranking noble maiden available. An arl's daughter is the appropriate bride for an Arl. And the lords all want the Theirin heir marrying a Fereldan. Not only a Fereldan, but one from the good old houses. Since the Kendalls only had Vaughn and Delilah Howe is married and Mother never had a daughter and you are marrying Anora, that means Habren. And it would bind him more tightly to us in kinship, though it's indirect. There's a lot of enthusiasm for the idea, and if you want to ram through some of the other things I know that you're going to try to do, you may have to give on this one."

"Habren is our cousin. If things go through as I hope they do and Alistair's child and mine marry…"

"They'd be second cousins, as you well know. Far enough apart that the Chantry won't care."

"Damn. You're right." Corin scowled. I really don't want to do that to Alistair! But he might just have to suck it up and take the fall for us. I don't need another sodding civil war on my hands! His ever-busy mind began ticking over calculations, considering allies and opponents, weighing the pros and cons and the various permutations of each one.

Watching him ponder, seeing the almost blazing vitality he exhibited now that he was well, Fergus found it difficult to believe the other disadvantage of the Joining Corin had told him about.

"Corin?" he asked softly. Something in his tone snapped Corin's attention back to him immediately.

"Yes, Fergus?"

"Are you sure about the thirty year thing?"

"No."

Fergus blew out a relieved breath. "Because what you did might have saved you from it?"

Corin's mouth tightened. He got to his feet and leaned against the mantle, the fire lighting his face from below, casting deep shadows. "No, because what I did made me unprecedented. I'm the only Warden who has ever survived slaying an Archdemon. Did that make the Taint I carry stronger or weaker? How did it affect me? Morrigan saved me on the day, but for how long? No way to tell, really. I could have thirty years, or live out my full span. Or I could have ten or maybe even less." He smiled grimly at his brother's look of shocked comprehension.

"As you can imagine, it terrifies me. All I can do is take every day as it comes. I've got a whole lot to accomplish, Fergus, and maybe not a lot of time to do it in."


Tradition be damned, Anora thought as she woke up bleary and disgruntled on her wedding day. Having Corin sleep away at Eamon's had been a mistake. Far too easy to lie awake in the dark, thinking of what he could be up to at the Pearl or with someone else. I am assuming that he would have assumed he had the traditional dispensation without asking me, regardless of his oath. She had not had him followed, though the idea had been tempting. The struggle not to become a jealous harpy was one she had to fight perpetually since she'd become betrothed to her extremely handsome and charismatic young prince.

"I will admit that I was precocious in regards to sex and started a bit early." Corin's own words, from one of their earliest interviews. So no blame to him if he had taken one last night of license before locking himself into doubly oath-bound monogamy with her!

Anora almost wished he hadn't sworn that oath of fidelity, despite the reassurance it had given her. Though he was a man of his word, he was not yet even twenty and there was still the faintest possibility that he might be seduced. The thought of the damage being foresworn would do to him was oddly almost as bad as the hurt she would feel. There had been girls dangling themselves before him since he had awakened from slaying the Archdemon, and even before, and that would not stop just because he had been married and crowned King. Anora's pregnancy was not common knowledge just yet and she was sure that there were several nobly-born maidens willing to risk loss of reputation, sure that they could bear the King a son in Anora's stead and ultimately supplant her, if only they could tempt Corin into their beds.

And what would happen if she lost this child and could not get another? She knew the constraints he labored under in that regard. He'd promised that Alistair's children would inherit, but what if Alistair was unable? He would be obliged to get an heir someplace else, as his royal duty. Even after Anora had been finally able to get to sleep, deep in the watches of the night, she had not slept well, and for the last two hours had been fighting a crawling, ever-increasing nausea. Eventually it had become impossible to ignore.

"Erlina!" she croaked, and the maid immediately popped in through her door, obviously having been waiting for Anora's summons for some time. One look at her mistress's green face and she hastened over to the bedside with a basin.

Anora lost the battle with her stomach and emptied it into the basin. When she had finished, Erlina whisked the offensive container away, returning with a hot cup of the tea Wynne had prescribed, its minty aroma starting to soothe the nausea even before the Queen drank it.

"Thank you, Erlina," she said after drinking half the cup. "You are a lifesaver!" The maid smiled. "What is the hour?"

"An 'our after sunrize. I waz going to wake you up soon if you did not do so yourself," Erlina said. "Teyrna Eleanor is waiting without. Should I let 'er in?"

"Please. I suppose I'd better be up and about it."

Upon her entrance, Eleanor took one look at Anora and smiled knowingly. "Nuptial nerves, is it?"

"Nuptial nerves and nausea," Anora admitted.

"You could very well have had the nausea from just the nerves, as I'm sure you know. But I'm sorry you have to do this feeling less than well, Anora."

"Less than well or not, it has to be done," came the Queen's grim rejoinder. The Teyrna raised an eyebrow.

"Second thoughts?"

"No. And yes. I trust Corin, I do, it's just…you should always have second thoughts, I think, the second time around. I was sure that things would be great with Cailan because I'd grown up with him. They were in a lot of ways, but others… I don't have to tell you how that turned out." Finally feeling that her stomach was under control, Anora slid out of the bed and stretched. "Am I doing the right thing, do you think?"

Eleanor gave the question serious consideration. "My personal bias towards my son aside, I have to say yes," she said at last. "There was a moment where you could have taken the throne by yourself had you chosen to do so, relegated Corin to Warden Commander. You know exactly when that moment was. But your claim isn't all that strong, Anora, and there would have been men among the old families who questioned your authority. I think you'd have had to kill some people to hold the throne; more, perhaps, than you would have liked. And Ferelden can't afford to lose too many more people. Right now, because Corin is the Hero and you threw your support behind him even before he was, people are unified behind the two of you. And that is exactly the thing that might enable this country to survive. So from my point of view, this is the best decision you could have made."

"That's comforting."

The Teyrna smiled. "It's my job to be comforting, this morning." Then the smile turned to a grin much like her son's. "And to make sure you don't escape!"

Anora actually managed a laugh. "Well, let's be about it then. Erlina, if you please?"

The maid went to the door that led to her chambers and opened it. The Alienage seamstresses streamed in with her wedding dress and set to work.


Despite the early hour, many of Ferelden's highest ranking ladies were gathered in a parlor at the Palace, waiting for the Queen's appearance, so that they could all process into the Landsmeet chamber. A sideboard of delicacies had been set out for them to graze upon until Anora's arrival. And some of them were doing just that, careful of their fine gowns, while others eyed the lone elf in the room with wary disdain.

Nerissa was decidedly uncomfortable. Teyrna Eleanor had brought her down here after breakfast with orders to stay put. She'd been one of the first people in the room, but it hadn't taken long to fill after her arrival. She found herself wishing for Irving, who could always make sense of social situations. These were important women, and she didn't want to do anything that would bring censure upon the Circle, or Maker forbid, get her sent back to Kinloch altogether. She stayed in the corner she'd picked out and refrained from getting a snack herself since she didn't know how that would be received, her fingers stroking the armband with the silver griffon and her staff, which Eleanor had also asked her to bring.

The door opened once more and three younger girls stepped in. The one in the lead, fabulously dressed even for this company, with rich chestnut hair and blue-green eyes surveyed the room for a moment before her eyes fell upon Nerissa.

"You! Elf! Come over here!"

Not much liking the tenor of the command, Nerissa nonetheless approached the young lady. She looked to be about seventeen years old, a pretty girl, though her expression was marred by lines of petulance bracketing her mouth.

"My useless maid didn't tighten these laces properly!" the young noblewoman complained, turning her back to Nerissa. "See that you do better."

Making an effort to repress her irritation, Nerissa responded in a civil tone she was sure Irving would have been proud of. "You appear to be laboring under a misapprehension, my lady. I'm not a maid."

The girl spun around, affronted. "What do you mean you're not a maid! Do my laces now, knife-ear!"

Control is paramount in the practice of magic. Emotion must be continually repressed, lest it cause unexpected results. The old homily echoed in her mind as Nerissa took a firm grip on her temper.

"I am Senior Enchanter Nerissa Surana, Circle Liason to the Grey Wardens," she said politely and with admirable calm, even while thinking, Hello, idiot! Don't you see the staff? What do you think it is-extra firewood? The effect of her restraint was a bit spoilt when she couldn't resist adding, "So I don't do laces, unless they're my own."

The young noblewoman's jaw dropped in amazement. "Of all the cheek!" Then her eyes narrowed. "If you're a mage, where is your Templar escort? Perhaps I should call the guards!"

"Senior Enchanters are free to go abroad without Templar escort, Habren," remarked a red-haired lady in a gown of black, gold and blue brocade, who was standing nearby watching the exchange. "If you'd paid any kind of attention to your lessons, you'd know that."

Lady Habren was not impressed. "She doesn't look old enough to be a Senior Enchanter, Bann Alfstanna. I've seen some of the ones here in the palace and they're all old! I think she's lying!"

Alfstanna sighed. "She's not lying, Habren. She is a Senior Enchanter. I know who she is."

"Senior Enchanter rank has nothing to do with age, my lady," Nerissa put in. "It's all about how good you are at your sort of magic. And I'm very good with mine."

"And what sort of magic is that?" Habren snapped.

Nerissa felt cool air hit her teeth as her lips skinned back in a smile that was decidedly wolfish. But her voice was cheerful as she said, "The kind that kills things. Lots of things. Very quickly." Murmurs rose from the watching audience. She knew better than to manifest so much as a candle-flame in a tense situation, but she shifted her staff to her other arm. Even that innocuous motion made the young noblewoman start and take a step backward. From what she obviously (and erroneously) figured was a safer distance she demanded, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No. How could I? Lived most of my life in the Circle, after all. Are you someone important?" There was something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker, quickly repressed, from Bann Alfstanna's direction.

Lady Habren's face flushed an unbecoming red. "I am Habren Bryland! My father, Leonas Bryland, is the Arl of South Reach! So Senior Enchanter or not, you'd best watch your lip or there will be trouble!"

Nerissa was just about done with this. "Oh. I see. But I'm afraid there's a problem, Lady Habren. Ever since I stood toe to toe with the Archdemon," another murmur from the noblewomen, "I've found that my criteria for what I consider trouble has been irreparably redefined. I'm very sorry if that inconveniences you." To add insult to injury, she dipped a little curtsey.

"Hmmmph!" Habren flounced off, conceding the field.

Chuckling, the red-haired woman came over. "Corin said you were a firecracker!" She extended her hand. "Alfstanna, Bann of Waking Sea."

A bit surprised, Nerissa extended hers in turn and took the bann's, which was warm and bow-callused. "Senior Enchanter Nerissa Surana at your service, your ladyship."

"I've heard bits about the battle on the roof. Good work you did there."

"And I've heard about you in the field with the Dalish. That was well done"

They stared at each other in mutual approval for a moment. Then Alfstanna released her hand and patted her gently on the shoulder.

"Did you get breakfast? Are you hungry? My brother was a Templar and he told me once that mages need to eat a lot when they're working."

"That's true," Nerissa admitted, surprised again. "Food is a lot better than lyrium for you, but it's also a lot slower as far as the recharge goes. I've not been doing any spell casting over the last couple of days, so I'm all right there. But I didn't get much breakfast."

"Then come and get something to eat."

They went over to the food table and Alfstanna watched as Nerissa got herself a plate of pastries, her stance and raised eyebrow daring anyone to say anything, which they did not.

"You needn't worry about Habren," the bann said in an undertone, after filling a plate for herself. "If she tries to cause you trouble, I'll step in. Leonas might have done a bum job raising his daughter, but he's not blind to her faults. I'm his friend and I was a witness."

"I did get a little hot under the collar there. The First Enchanter would say it was time for another teaching moment."

Alfstanna's eyes twinkled. "You had cause. You were provoked. Did you get a lot of 'teaching moments' when you were growing up?"

"Maker, yes!"

"So did I, as it happens." She patted her plaited red head. "Bit of a hot temper, I'm afraid."

They chatted companionably for a few minutes about their experiences in the battle. They'd just set their plates aside when the door opened and an elf, this one an actual maid from the look of her, stepped through and raised her voice.

"'Er Majesty Anora, Queen of Ferelden."

Everyone curtseyed deeply as the Queen came in, followed by Teyrna Eleanor. Nerissa had only seen her far up at the high table in the evenings. Her beauty was much more apparent at closer range. Pieces of her long, blonde hair were twined in a coronet to support Ferelden's crown upon her head, while the rest poured like a pale gold waterfall down her back. Her complexion was flawless, her cosmetics artfully applied. She moved in a rustle of brocade and a swish of flowing silk; iconic, golden, surveying the room with an imperious look and lifted golden brow.

"Please, everyone, rise," she said and when they had done so, added, "Alfstanna, you and Eleanor are my witnesses."

A murmur arose as Bann Alfstanna curtseyed once more and approached the Queen. Nerissa thought there was disappointment in the sound.

Suddenly, the Queen's gaze passed over her and settled, to her great surprise. "Senior Enchanter. Please approach Us."

Astounded, Nerissa did so a bit slowly, dropping to one knee with a sigh of skirts and wishing again fervently that Irving was here.

"We would like you to accompany Us to the Landsmeet chamber and stand close by. Teyrna Eleanor thinks your presence would provide some extra security. Are you willing to do this?"

"I would be most happy to, Your Majesty."

"Excellent! You may rise." Her pale hand gestured towards the Teyrna and the Bann. Please join the witnesses." Nerissa did as she was bidden. Anora surveyed the rest of the room.

"The rest of you, fall in according to precedence. We are going to the Landsmeet chamber now."

A bit of a tumult followed, as ladies scurried to relieve themselves of their plates and do some quick primping. Nerissa was a little dazed by the way things had worked out, but given that she was supposed to be doing bodyguard duty, repressed it firmly and began scanning for trouble. So she didn't miss Bann Alfstanna's grin and her thumbs-up behind the Queen's back as they processed out of the room.


The last ride of the Crown Prince of Ferelden took place on a clear, cold day. There wasn't much wind and little puffy clouds sent down the occaisional flurry of snow, which spangled his black hair and the blue Highever cloak like thrown flower petals.

He was clad all in white and gold and cut quite the royal figure as he rode out from Eamon's courtyard on his prancing black steed. Behind him were the flower of Ferelden's nobility, led by his brother Teyrn Fergus and the Warden Commander of Ferelden.

Turning left out of the gate instead of right caused some confusion among his followers and some creative Antivan and Orlesian cursing from up on the rooftops. Instead of processing immediately through the Lower Market, he headed out the city gate towards the refugee camp.

There weren't actually that many refugees there-most of them were in the marketplace waiting on him-and on the feast that was beginning to send luscious odors into the air. But there were some who feared leaving their few possessions and some City Guards tasked to keep an eye on things, and it was those people he rode out to see, pausing to give a word of thanks to the guards and encouragement to the people. Fergus, watching how they lit up when Corin spoke to them realized that his brother definitely possessed a deft hand for dealing with his subjects. They'll remember for the rest of their lives that he took the time on his coronation day to speak to them. A moment on his part to engender a lifetime of loyalty!

From the camp, the procession turned back and went into the marketplace itself, which was packed with bodies. Though no flower petals were possible, everyone was dressed in their best and there were scarves and little homemade flags and ribbon streamers flying everywhere, as joyous a sight as could be imagined. Progress slowed to a walk as people pressed close, hoping to touch the hem of the Prince's cloak or his boot or Sable's satin shoulder. This caused more international pejoratives from the opposite sides of the marketplace. It would be only too easy for an assassin to slip close in such a crowd. But the Prince merely smiled and waved and tolerated the press. The Cousland charisma was out in full force; he seemed almost alight as he passed among his people.

No assassins appeared. The cheering was a continuous, raucous thing that seemed to shiver the air. "Maker keep the Queen and the Crown Prince!" "Lady keep our Royals!" and other such sentiments were heard along with a continual chant of "Corin! Corin! Corin!"

He went through the Alienage gate next, something that had been planned with his two security experts, though some of the lords were startled. The procession clattered over the wooden planked section in the middle of the bridge where the Archdemon had broken it and onto the planked road that had replaced the mud and slime of the old Alienage road. The elves had been busy here; many newer, paler boards striped the old wooden buildings. The Prince paused beneath the vhenendahl to say a few gracious words to the elves and to listen to a small chorus of elven children sing him a song. At the conclusion of the song, he actually got off of his horse to take a moment and speak to the children, to the consternation of his noblemen.

"You don't want to take too long. Anora might reconsider," Fergus said, nudging him.

Corin grinned up at his brother. "I think she'll understand." And he took every little hand in turn to praise each small singer before mounting Sable once more.

Out of the Alienage, the road widened and though both sides were packed with people, here the guard were out in force to keep the way clear. The procession increased speed to a trot.

Fergus turned to Alistair, who was riding stirrup to stirrup with him. In the weeks before the wedding, Teyrna Eleanor had not forgotten her son's best friend and had made sure there were seamstresses to craft him a proper Grey Warden dress uniform in dark blue, with the rampant silver griffons embroidered in bullion on the chest. He looked very dashing.

"You sure you're all right with this?" the Teyrn asked him. "No second thoughts?"

"None at all!" Alistair assured him. "But I'm not going to be able to really relax until we get Corin wed and get that crown on his head."

"It shouldn't be long now," Fergus noted. The Palace was in sight.


Inside the Landsmeet chamber, Anora sat upon her throne, back straight, head held high. The crown and scepter of Ferelden sat upon a velvet cushion on the King's throne, glittering in the beams of light that streamed down from the high windows.

The assembled Fereldans glittered as well. The Landsmeet chamber was filled to bursting it seemed, with everyone who had the least right to attend having left their lands to do so.

A fine audience for the end of a dynasty and the beginning of another, Anora thought a bit morbidly. Eleanor, Alfstanna and the little mage were standing beside her throne, while Grand Cleric Elemena and Princess Henriette were seated in throne-like chairs on the dais beside the King's throne.

Corin's progress could be tracked by the dull roar that could be heard even through the closed doors and thick walls of the chamber. It grew louder and louder as he drew near. Doubts she thought had been laid to rest and memories of the last time she'd done this flitted through Anora's mind.

At the first, at least, Cailan had imagined himself in love with her. She'd had that much. And even though he'd slept around quite a bit when that fancy ended, he'd never given another woman his true affection. If he'd not truly been in love with her, he hadn't been in love with anyone else either-except, of course, for possibly being infatuated with Celene there at the end. Anora knew that. And look how matters had turned out between them! Surely things wouldn't go any better with a man who admitted he was in love with another woman? What would happen if Morrigan, despite Alistair's assertions to the contrary, returned?

For a moment she imagined getting up and racing out of the Landsmeet chamber, fleeing somewhere far away-or at least as far as Gwaren. Then the doors of the Landsmeet chamber were pushed open and the noise of the crowd outside crested and poured into the room, bidding fair to drown out the herald, who was reduced to almost bellowing.

"All rise for His Royal Highness, Corin Cousland, Blight-Queller and Crown Prince of Ferelden!"

And it was too late to escape, for there he was, the resplendent young man she knew that she loved, pacing majestically up the aisle. Alistair and Fergus were at his back while Eamon led the rest of the noblemen, who gradually peeled off and made their way to their seats. If Corin had reveled the night before there was no sign of it she could see. He was smiling and serene, his eyes fixed upon either her or the throne, Anora couldn't tell which. Grand Cleric Elemena got up and made her way to the front of the dais, so Anora did so as well, Eleanor and Alfstanna falling in behind her, twitching the train of her gown into place.

Corin came up the stairs with deliberate slowness, and fell in beside her. Before Elemena could begin talking, he met Anora's eyes and cleared his throat, gesturing with one hand up and down his body. Anora stared at him in puzzlement for a moment. Was he wanting her to compliment him? That seemed very unlike him. When she did not respond, his eyebrow lifted and he repeated the gesture, clearing his throat again more loudly.

How odd. I think he wants me to admire his suit! Puzzled, Anora started to look him over. Then it hit her. Corin was golden roses from head to foot. Roses on the brocade of his doublet. Roses embroidered in gold buillion on the fringed cuffs of his gloves. Roses rioting in gold profusion against white and fawn colored-leather on one of the most gorgeous pairs of boots Anora had ever seen. A line of golden roses twined down the outside seam on his pants and the clasp of his cloak was two golden roses. And in his ear…when did he get his ear pierced?…was an earring in the shape of a rose whose stem curled about a sapphire that was a smaller match for the one in her wedding ring.

Golden roses everywhere. Roses that if painted heraldically, would be yellow… A declaration of highly improper thoughts that only Anora would understand. She stared at him in astonishment. Corin's summer-sky eyes were wide with what was patently false innocence, while his mouth, with that self-satisfied curl at the corners, told a different tale.

In the space of that moment all of Anora's doubts died.


People watching were puzzled. There was some sort of odd exchange between the Crown Prince and the Queen. He was gesturing and she was staring. Was there some sort of last minute objection or difficulty? Even the witnesses seemed puzzled.

Then suddenly, shockingly, Anora began to laugh. Anora, who had always (at least until recently) behaved impeccably during ceremonies, began to laugh. And not a giggle or a quiet laugh either; a full-throated, head-thrown-back laugh the likes of which no one had ever seen from her. It rose to the rafters. Corin joined her and it became contagious. The audience joined in as well, laughing and clapping for no reason they could see. But they did see the Queen throw her arms about the Prince's neck, and see him grin widely before he bent his head to kiss her.

Grand Cleric Elemena did not bellow exactly, but she was an experienced orator and her voice did cut through the tumult.

"Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness! We've a little business to get through first before you start doing that!"

Another laugh rose from the crowd as the ceremony began.