Chapter Three

Rolf dreamed of Khelsh. His nightmare was ridden with the Vhervhish prince, his voice, his grip, his plans. He hated waking up, in a cold sweat, burying his head in Dagger's chest, just trying to breathe. Trying to picture the moment the evil prince had been devoured by his griffin's own father. His fingers clung to the feathers round Dagger's neck, inhaling the scent of the freshly groomed griffin. His throat caught on a sob as he exhaled, just trying to repeat Khelsh's death over and over and over again in his mind. Perhaps it wasn't the most healthy way of dealing with things, but it could get him to a point of logical thinking again.

It was probably late enough to get up, he decided after a while. He'd have to be up in an hour anyway, there was no point in returning to a hellish sleep. Shivering, he wrapped himself in a robe, going to sit by the large window in his bedchambers, leaning up against his griffin. In an hour, the flurry would start. The frazzled beginning of a new chapter.

He smiled when he thought of kissing Kalys, the feeling of her lips, or how her hands rested on his chest so perfectly. He wondered what she would think of him if she knew him. If she knew the places his mind wandered to, the strongholds of his soul built by vile memories. He wondered what they would all think of him, if they knew what scars lined his heart. He'd made a point to be okay, to keep up the jovial attitude he'd always had. Really, when one faked it for his subjects, it was only a matter of time before the habit leaked into his familial life.

But one pushed on. When one is a king he stands up, smiling as he feels the gashes breaking open, as he feels the blood pour from him. Because duty calls harder than pain, it's more important than pain. A good king feels hurt but does not project it. As a fourteen year-old he understood that, and he understood it now. He had healed, licked his wounds in the quiet of the night, with the Castle and a griffin to listen to, being rocked back into the lull of sleep. To be awakened by nightmares ravaging him just to start all over again.

He let out a sigh, watching the clouds pass by as the sky lightened. He couldn't see the sun yet, just the blues lightening in the sky. It was a start to realize he wouldn't be alone tonight. He wouldn't have the luxury of punching against walls, throwing pillows to the ground in screaming anger. Then again, that had stopped since he'd had a bunkmate in Grath. He still wasn't sure he wouldn't have to resort to that some nights.

The knock at the door jarred him from his worries. Lanterns being lit, made him squeeze his eyes shut for a couple seconds before he could focus on which servants had entered.

"Please tell me you've actually slept and haven't been there all night."

Rolf looked up, surprised to see his father's face grimacing at him. He looked tired, as if he was the one who hadn't slept. Rolf shook his head.

"I woke an hour ago," he consoled, standing from his spot on the ragged griffin cushions. "There was no point in going back to sleep after that."

He gratefully sipped the cup of tea that was offered to him. He smirked as Bran entered his room, his tiny griffin, Beatrice, held against him with a gray sling. He pushed the curtains open, letting the oranges shine into the room with the yellow flickers of candles.

"Today is the today that changes your life forever," Bran announced, watching as a servant began to prepare a bath in the washroom.

Rolf raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Thank you for reminding me."

Bran frowned before patting him sympathetically on the back. He didn't really want sympathy, he didn't really know what he wanted if he was being honest. He sort of wanted it, sort of didn't. He felt uneasy about the whole thing suddenly, like there had been a shift in the Castle's desires. He pushed that away; he always felt uneasy after his sleep spiraled into memories of the past. That much was normal about the day.

"Just here to wake you, and remind you that you have to be in the west hallway near the chapel in an hour and a half," King Glower said, clamping a hand on his shoulder. "And well, to make sure you didn't jump out a window."

Rolf wrinkled his nose, gulping down the last of his tea. "I know my duty."

Bran patted Beatrice. "Don't sound so stiff."

The statement was ironic coming from Bran, ordered to Rolf. Usually it was the other way around, stiff, formal words coming from the eldest. Well, to be fair, it probably would have been said in much more fanciful language if Bran said it.

Rolf felt stiff enough as he handed his brother his mug, before giving Dagger one last pat, and getting himself ready to bathe. His heart felt stiff, numb as he ducked his head under the water. He didn't really know what to think as he scrubbed soap through his hair, behind his ears, over every part of him. He was hyper-aware of the long scar that ran down from his shoulder blade to the small of his back. That, and the one tracing from his elbow to his wrist. It was easy to blame that one on a snagged nail; in fact, he remembered telling Celie that during the night of manure mayhem. She'd been too innocent to question it. By the time the Ship had been built, the one on his back had healed enough to say he hadn't ever noticed it when questioned. It was easy to blow it off. Only he, the castle's old physician Macaiah, and Pogue knew about it. If it wasn't for Pogue, he had no doubt in his mind that Khelsh would've killed him that afternoon. After all, the Castle had just died.

He shook his head, water dripping down his neck as he dried himself, trying to push the memory out of his mind. He smiled cruelly to himself. Wasn't this a happy day for him? His wedding? Rolling his eyes, he pulled his trousers, before coming to flop on his bed, staring down the wedding tunic he should be putting on.

It could wait.

"Are you nervous?"

The question made Kalys swallow nervously as Celie sat down beside her. She was in her shift still. She was having a maid pin up her curls this time, Lilah was busy with her own hair. They were all together, which Kalys had mixed feelings about. Sure, she thought being alone with her thoughts before her wedding (especially after the toe-curling kiss) would be nice, but she also liked her future in-laws. Even if Lilah could be a bit dramatic. She had overheard her dear sister-in-law ask Rolf if Kalys really was pregnant and if he'd set the entire thing up.

"Yes," she answered bluntly, smoothing down the skirt of her slip, watching as a pin was strategically placed to keep her hair in. "But I trust the Castle."

And Rolf. But she didn't add that. It seemed too daring somehow, despite it being true. Kalys did trust Rolf. There were many reasons why she had learned not to trust people. But Rolf was trustworthy. She knew he would hurt her; she would hurt him. It's the way humans worked. But she could trust him; even if it was just for today. She'd been called by the Ship for a reason. She had a duty, and the Castle was worth it.

She beamed at Celie, trying to keep the tears back. No, she wasn't ready for this. But was anybody really ready to bind themselves to someone for a lifetime? At least, it wasn't the horrid Arkish man she'd been betrothed to before.

"It's okay if you don't want to get married," Celie whispered, squeezing her hand. "We understand."

She heard the meaning. There was an escape, she could call it all off now. Nothing was final until the vows were said and the rings slipped on. She shook her head. If the Castle wanted it, the Castle would get it. After all, look at what she had gone through just to be here, what her ancestors had died for, mourned for, cried for.

"It's alright, Celie," she smiled, this time a tear leaking from her eyes, as she heard the Hathelock mourning song. "It's worth it for the Castle."

And it was true. She'd watched her ancestors fall apart. For generations they would drink themselves to death singing the mourning songs of old. Their hearts were never satisfied as their voices rose to the sky, praises of the Castle, poems of repentance, shouts of pain. Eerie restlessness had filled the place. Kalys herself had felt the emptiness in her heart, even when she was surrounded by people.

But the Castle, the Castle had fulfilled her. The moment she stepped into it, she knew her life would never be the same. She was satisfied; a feeling that had never been able to describe her before. She knew the Castle; it had not failed her. And the Castle knew her. If she had to marry a prince to please it, she would. It brought her joy to do so.

Kalys stood, ready to accept her fate. She caught a breath as Lilah yanked on her corset laces, tying them tight. At least her waist looked small. Kalys made a face. It's not like she would see herself except for this moment in front of a mirror. Her heart began to race as Celie helped her into the gown. Shivers went down her spine as Queen Celina's fingers laced up the back. As she looked in at her reflection, she had to admit she looked beautiful. The green, white, and silvers went so well with her caramel skin tone, and brought her eyes. Her curls were done in such a way to perfectly frame her round face.

She was a bit overwhelmed when Queen Celina threw her arms around her, and started to softly cry. She awkwardly patted the queen's back, though slowly melted against her, resting against her. This was her mother now; Celie and Lilah were her sisters now. This was her family. A satisfied family. A family she could love.

"You look beautiful, darling," the queen whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Never forget it."

She took a breath and nodded. Lilah clasped a silver chain to her neck, smiling at her. Kalys swallowed, regretting the bite of porridge she'd managed to keep down. She walked with them slowly, taking her place outside the chapel, her heart racing as the moment drew nearer. She watched as the king and queen went first, and then Lilah and Lulath, and finally Celie and Pogue. Pogue gave her a tiny smile, and Celie grinned and waved at his side.

Kalys fidgeted with her hands, the moments seeming to slow down. She swore she could hear her heart beating hard. Her hands were shaking, as she gripped a bouquet of flowers. She tried to remember Lilah's directions, but she was drowning in nervousness.

"Just breathe," she told herself, lacing her fingers together as she took the first step into the chapel, eyes closed.

Today was the day her life changed forever.

"Rolf, you have to be at the altar in fifteen minutes," Bran declared unhelpfully. "You were supposed to meet Father ten minutes ago."

Rolf had bathed, eaten his breakfast, and put on the right attire. He couldn't move. He didn't want to move from his bed. And no convincing from Bran would change his mind. Maybe he could just have Bran marry him and Kalys right here if they needed to be married.

Maybe this was some exotic prank the Castle was pulling. It was just trying to have some fun. It was a little late for the reveal. Rolf stood up and Bran gave him an encouraging nod.

Celie skipped into the room, looking all grown up. Her full gown, pinned up hair, smiling at them. Bran grinned at her and whispered something that made them both roll their eyes. She matronly smoothed down his tunic, before kissing his cheek. She smiled at him.

"Ready to get married?"

"Not really," he confessed, his heart starting to beat faster. Celie gave him a look that reminded him very much of Lilah and he raised his eyebrows. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, your wedding is in fifteen minutes," she responded. "You better rush to the altar."

The words held other meanings, ones that were her intent. He could see it in her grinning eyes, and mischievous tones. Rolf had lost count of how many people had asked him if there was a child due. Pogue teased him about it all the time, something that was both unhelpful and annoying. He thought Celie would be safe. But she had been hanging around the blacksmith turned knight a lot. Good lord, that was an entirely different issue.

"You better be ready," Bran chided, though Rolf could still hear the sympathy in his voice.

"Yes, yes. I better be ready to bind my life to a girl I barely know," he responded, taking a step forward. "See you soon, Cel." He kissed her cheek, and she strolled out with a sing song good luck, leaving Rolf to walk to the chapel.

Weddings in Sleyne were a big deal. Well, where was the crown prince's wedding not a big deal? But as important as the marriage celebration was, the marriage was even more binding. From Glower the Seventieth outlawing both divorce and multiple wives for kings, to him setting the rule that unroyal blood becomes royalty when the rings are exchanged, marriage was held with the highest esteems. The village had had three parades, and two celebratory feasts (Lilah had two, and one respectively). Weddings started with a simple ceremony, nobles and cousins attending, and then feasting and dancing with nearly everyone from the village.

The sanctuary was full of people Rolf recognized, nobles who he would know their names when his mind wasn't so bogged down with nervousness. A wave of sickness went through his stomach, as he just tried to breath. He watched the procession, his parents, sisters, Pogue and Lulath. He gripped Bran's shoulder (royal wizards were supposed to be there as witnesses), trying not to fall over. He focused himself, trying to see each different royals. The king and queen of Grath had attended, something he knew, but was still surprised in the moment. King Kurlath was there; after all, after everything that happened with Khelsh, he probably didn't dare not come for alliance sake. His parents looked serious, and his mother shot him a look of sympathy. Lilah looked like she might cry. For him or her, Rolf didn't rightly know.

But when he saw Kalys, his heart nearly stopped. Her lips were set, eyes full of courage. She looked ridiculously beautiful, glowing and elegant. With grace she swayed towards him, laying her soft hands in his as directed. Her lips were pressed together, as she gave his hands a little squeeze. Her blue eyes were fierce, dark eyebrows set in a determined frown.

"For the Castle?" she whispered, as the priest droned on and on. He swallowed and nodded, admiring her willing, courageous spirit. The weight of what was about to be done was pressing down on him, as he heard the poetic words of the priests pounding in his head.

They exchanged the vows, Rolf noticing how the Castle amplified their voices. The words were heavy on his lips; each promise echoing through his brain. Kalys's voice sounded shaky, as if every ounce of her was forcing herself into it. His heart dropped as the priest was satisfied. There was no turning back now.

"For the Castle," he whispered to both her and himself, slipping her wedding band onto her ring finger. Once she did the same to him, he leaned to set the silver tiara atop her head. It was official; Kalys Serene Elizabeth was now both a Glower, and the crown princess of the Castle and all of Sleyne.

He heard shouts for a kiss, and delicately he cupped her face towards him. He could see tears glistening in her eyes, and he ignored it as a lump in his throat rose. He let his lips melt to hers, and felt her thumb stroke over his cheekbone. In that moment he could feel everyone's eyes disappearing, he could focus on kissing her.

But then he was pulling her down the chapel as the crowd cheered. They were supposed to head straight to the feast, but he pulled them into an alcove beside the feasting hall. Just to breath. He jumped a bit when Kalys wrapped both arms around his middle, burying her face into his chest. He rested his head on top of hers, just holding her close. They mourned something together, the grief of two young teenagers giving up so much for each other. They sacrificed for each other, both being forced to it. But perhaps, that was the way it was supposed to be. It was just them who understood the grief.

"If it was anybody," she whispered, pulling away from him, wiping at her tears. "I'm glad it was you."

He kissed her forehead in response, squeezing her hands. He was so flushed, as he opened the door, surprising a few maids, and shocking Ma'am Housekeeper. Without even thinking about it, he winked at her, pulling a slightly mussed Kalys with him. He winced when he saw the slightly scandalized look on her face. Kalys just laughed.

"I saw that," his mother warned, smoothing down his tunic. "Really, you're not helping the rumor that you're a hormone controlled prince."

Then she threw her arms around him, and Rolf laughed as she kissed both of his cheeks tearfully. Lilah was much the same, a tearful mess with sloppily sisterly kisses.

"I never thought you'd be the first one," his mother whispered, squeezing King Glower's hand behind her.

Rolf swallowed the lump in his throat as his father embraced him gruffly, squeezing his middle rather hard. Really, this was hardly royal behavior, though Rolf figured they had been through too much to care. Too many dangerous adventures and dances with death would do that to a family. The problem was attempting not to tear up.

Bran cleared his throat and looked like he wanted to ruffle his hair as he had done often when they were small, but considering the crown atop his head, the wizard decided not to. Probably the better decision.

When Lulath poetically congratulated them, all Rolf could see was frills and lace. Really, his sister's betrothed was becoming quite the fashion icon in Sleyne. Something Rolf prayed would not take the royal trend. Pogue Parry just grinned at him, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back once all the family had dispersed to make talk with nobles. Rolf's cheeks blushed, though, when Pogue made a comment that reminded the prince that his friend had not given up all of his old habits. Then again, growing up the son of a blacksmith would make it hard to lose the rather offensive jokes.

Then came the rush. Really, Rolf should have better prepared himself. He was used to snobby, rich nobles who acted rather rudely. Pogue's jokes had nothing on the obscene voices of some of the Glower family's drunk cousins. It truly was one of the most uncomfortable experiences he'd had; that was saying a lot considering he was a crown prince. Though he'd learned early on to control his facial expressions, he did believe his blush was permanent, and he noticed that Kalys was refusing to meet his eye for a bit. Crude cousins could get to one like that.

When Celie came up to them, Rolf nearly dropped everything to embrace her. Not only had she saved him from a downright outrageous conversation, but he realized she hadn't walked up to him with the other family. He didn't doubt that was for the same reasons she'd struggled with Lilah's betrothal, but it still sort of stung a little bit. So did the intense looking scowl. Thankfully, the queen had taken Kalys with her for some sort of thing, for Rolf was afraid she could be hurt by it. Hell, he was a bit hurt by it.

"You haven't lost all love for practical jokes, have you?" She asked, after pulling away from him rather rudely. "You'll still eat caramel apples late at night and laugh at Lilah's antics?"

The words were silly, childish. One would think that the adventures and things they had chased off and away would've changed both of them. But the light words were heavy on Rolf's soul. Because to him, this was the point of no return. This was permanent, maturing change. There was no turning this around. Though his emotions were so jumbled, in this moment he wanted to go back.

"Just because I've gotten married doesn't make me instantly boring, Cel," he said through the lump in his throat, though neither of them believed it. "I just have a roommate, and someone to match with. That's what marriage is, right?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Celie whispered, her voice breaking at the end. "It's the only thing you can do."

Celie would be a liar if she said she didn't cry during the ceremony. As much as she hated to admit it, she had, and Lulath had given her his handkerchief. She would've been embarrassed, but even King Glower had shed a tear, and she wasn't nearly as much of a mess as her mother and Lilah. This was Rolf. He should be preparing to bring alliances with the east, or attend important state matters as crown prince in Bendswe. Not married.

"I hate how old and mature he looks," Celie whispered, clutching Lilah's hand. "It reminds me of when he was king."

The stern look on his face as he discussed something with their cousin Clint was nothing compared to the set of his expression when he had exchanged vows. Really, it did remind Celie of when he was fighting against the council and Khelsh, a memory that wasn't the most pleasant. Even now, he looked like he could be Bran's age, especially with tight lips and a furrowed brow. Celie desperately hoped in vain it wouldn't change him too much.

Lilah let go of her hand. They stood in a little refreshment room outside of the ballroom, mostly to get away from pesky royals, but now they were spying on their brother. Pogue had joined them a little bit ago, and they were trying to get enough time in before their mother scolded them for unroyal like behavior. Not that Pogue mattered; he could probably stay as long as he wanted.

"This was his worst fear," Lilah whispered. "He wanted to pick a wife for himself, not be trapped in the throne room."

That's what hit both of them the hardest. Rolf had voiced his opinion on how he wanted his betrothal to go, and it did not include the Castle. Each time he'd said it as a joke, but everyone knew the meaning behind it. After all, Lilah got to marry for love, so why couldn't he?

"He would've chosen Kalys," Pogue pointed out, and Celie realized she agreed. It was true, Kalys was sort of destined to be his wife, but it was the principle of the matter. Also, if Celie could pretend she felt bad for her brother, it would make her seem a lot less selfish for hating this wedding. "Maybe he wasn't ready just yet, but everyone knows he would've picked Kalys sooner or later."

Lilah made a noise in her throat, before leaving them to talk to her future in-laws. Celie secretly wondered how long it would take Bran to marry, considering they were the only ones left. She let out a long sigh, making Pogue smirk.

"Don't lose heart, Celie, I have a feeling we'll be having another adventure," Pogue said, his smile disappearing after a moment. "There's something incredibly off about this hasty marriage. And I can't put my finger on it."