Time hadn't been behaving since Gunter and I had left the caves. Stretching, shrinking, taking great leaps or stopping altogether, the minutes had left my head spinning as they went by. As Dirk and I turned to enter the wedding banquet, time fell back into its accustomed place with a crunch. I felt myself wake up, and grim as reality was to be, it was a relief to have my feet on the ground once more.

I'd been so wound up in my own rather small part I hadn't been at all aware of my surroundings. I only got a glimpse of the manor's yard on our way in. It was a handsome, if uninspired, landscape, noisy and busy with servants rushing back and forth. It was as though my ears had been waterlogged. How had I missed all the cries and barked orders and hurried debates? It was an overcast day, the wind light and carrying the promise of occasional drizzle. Someone was probably weatherworking to keep the real rain at bay. I'd been walking in a fog both physical and metaphorical.

I rebuked myself as I walked beside my husband down a long hallway covered in portraits of Rocheforts past, but as we entered the banquet hall, I wished the fog would return. Heading a procession through a dim hallway had been almost peaceful. The wall of sound when the double doors (carved with rampant stags) were opened nearly knocked me over. The Rocheforts had spared absolutely no expense, and not a single invitation, either. It seemed to me every noble in Shin Makoku was waiting in that room, and talking up a storm about my nuptials.

A fanfare sounded as we entered, and I trailed Dirk to the head table. Elevated above the rest, it was set with nothing but gold and crystal, with a horrifically opulent meal waiting. There was definitely a whole roasted hart on that table. With the horns still on.

I glanced about surreptitiously as we were seated. The head table seated me and Dirk, his parents and sister, and my mother and brothers. We sat only on one side so we could face the room. Below the raised dais on the right sat the assembled extended Rochefort clan, cousins, uncles and aunts, a grandparent or two. On the left were the eight of the Ten Aristocrats not at the high table, with a few young children. Their families were next, and beyond that, the tables hosted a selection of lesser nobility and knights, mainly from Rochefort holdings or nearby. I wished I were together enough to take stock of faces and names, deduce from seating who was in favor. It would be useful information, but I wasn't ready.

There were applause as we entered, and I forced my face into a frozen smile for the crowd. Not that I expected any of them to care about the happiness of an arranged marriage. I found myself rather pettily annoyed that they were all here. It was just a wedding. An important political wedding, but no reason to invite the entire kingdom. Unless you wanted to make a point very loudly and publically. Something nasty was surely coming. And everyone knew it, or they wouldn't be here at all.

Dirk's father made a bit of a speech. I didn't pay it much mind. It was very bland, and if it concealed a few subtle insults, I was beyond caring. A blending of powers old and new? Sure. A step toward real unification? Yes, yes. The whole room knew the Rocheforts still held power and my mother had no made herself look well. He was saying nothing new.

I took the chance to glance over the room. Musicians were setting up in one corner and many of the servants had a borrowed look about them. This was to be a most ostentatious affair. Letting my eyes search the crowd rather than the gilded room, I found Anissina at the table on the left, piling random objects one on top of another, with a napkin folded into a swan atop it all. For once, I wished she would blow something up.

Beside her was Lord Von Wincott. And then Gunter, with Giesela beside him, both attending the speech with the enthusiasm of school children on a lovely summer day. They wore identical expressions of disgust, filtered through sickly smiles. I wished he hadn't brought his daughter. Giesela's cheerful demeanor and cleverness, to my mind, suited her to happy or noble occasions, not this fiasco. I thought the same of my brothers, of Josack, of every child or any sort of innocent in the room at this hypocritical, megalomaniacal juncture.

My father-in-law ended his speech only as the crowd could barely restrain their yawning. He was really my father-in-law. The realization came like rain dripping down the back of my neck. Uncomfortable, constant, and petty. I wondered if I would have to say anything. Was it traditional? I couldn't even remember. It wasn't in the ceremony.

Mother spoke next. I was glad to see that she'd dressed a little more quietly for the occasion than was her usual wont. She seldom looked like somebody's mother, but at least today she looked like she might be someone's not particularly wild young aunt. Black was becoming on her. I wondered who had written her speech. If it was Evert I'd be wanting to hide under the table in a minute.

"When I woke up this morning, I knew it was the perfect day for a wedding." Not Evert. Stoffel, maybe? "Yes, it was rainy, but what does water mean, after all, but life?" Ah. Raven. "Life and hope, and hope is what I'm carrying now. I'm so proud to see my baby look so resplendent." She smiled at me and I could feel a crack in the atmosphere when she took to ad-libbing. "When he was quite little and still liked things like tea parties, I'd hear twice a day that one of his toys was marrying another, or that he was going to marry Anissina because she'd set fire to him if he didn't. He lost interest after a while, and next he even had to think about it was when he stood up in my wedding with Lord Weller." She was. She was going to tell this story. "That was when little Gwen never got excited about anything. Hmm, he might not be out of that phase now! Just teasing, Gwen. But he did work so hard and so earnestly to look nice in the wedding. And so Gwen comes down with an awful case of the sniffles—did I mention he had allergies back then? And doesn't tell a soul. So he comes up to me with the engagement gift all-bleary eyed and trying not to sneeze and I suppose doesn't notice that a rosebush has grown a bit onto the stage. We had the loveliest garden wedding. Anyway, Gwendal's foot got caught and he managed to topple himself headfirst into the roses. From then on I was sure he'd be terribly awkward on his own wedding day, but he's done beautifully. And I hope he and Dirk will be most delightfully happy together."

"There's a sword hung on the wall behind us if you'd like to fall on it," muttered my husband sympathetically.

"It'd take too long to die." Some situations crossed all boundaries, and maternal humiliation was one.

Mother then picked up again what she'd agreed to say and finished blandly, a humiliation sandwich on two slices of banality. My only comfort was that Dirk and I were apparently not intended to speak. Listening to him attempting to stumble through oration would probably be about as awful as giving one myself.

After the speeches came a few family traditions, the inscribing of my name in a large, impressive book, the introduction of an artist who'd be charged with our portrait, and a pair of matching Augustine lockets for the newlyweds. They were oval and made from silver, so they could have been far more gruesome, and each contained a miniature. I noticed over Dirk's shoulder that the picture in his locket looked a lot more like my father than like me. I'd never actually sat for a portrait in my life. They must have extrapolated.

Finally, after all this nonsense, the meal was served to the lower tables. This removed some of the onus from my black mood and tied tongue. There was enough on the table that a person might want to eat, once I'd reached around the whole deer and the peacock stuffed with duck. My mother-in-law, as I realized with a start I'd never even seen her before, seemed to sympathize and pushed bread and grapes and suchlike in my direction. Dirk's sister and my mother were great conversationalists, and my new husband seemed almost as dull as I was. We both sat rather still and quite silent as the whole hall buzzed around us.

My eyes, no matter what I did, flickered to Gunter. Sometimes I afforded myself a real excuse, peeking around my wine glass as I took a sparing sip, a dab with the napkin. Sometimes I simply forgot myself. I wanted to see him up close. He was one of the only people I knew, quite aside from my undying, devoted, forever forsworn love, who made his formal clothes look splendid. He never happened to look up when I did, engaged in light conversation or talking more solemnly to Giesella. Rather often, Anissina looked up. The first few times she stuck her tongue out at me. After that, she just rolled her eyes.

As the plates were taken away from our wasteful, silly dinner, the cake was brought out. It was a groom's cake, frosted in chocolate and smelling of brandy from five paces. I didn't want to eat it any more than I would have a seven tiered lace confection, but at least it looked a bit more tasteful. Dirk and I cut the first slice together, which led to our first real conversation since the ceremony.

"The handle's too short."

"No, my hand goes over yours."

"Oh. Sure." Dirk shifted so we could both stand reasonably near the cake. "Big piece?"

"Do you want to eat a big piece?"

"Yes."

"Then go ahead."

I didn't foresee things being much more civil in the future. At least I managed to get only the least sliver for myself. Serving the cake took quite a while, during which time I answered my new little sister-in-law's very pertinent question about my middle name and watched Gunter a bit more. Just as the remains of the cake were being carted back up the aisle, he looked back up at me. Despite the crowd, our eyes met and held, and I borrowed a little of his strength. Perhaps I even gave him something back. I liked to think so.

Next came the gifts. Just the big ones. The gifts from small fiefdoms and landless knights were too numerous. There were nine packages to open, one from each great family but Voltaire. I might have presented myself a gift just to be perverse, but I hadn't thought of it.

Most of the presents were unmemorable. A golden set of fountain pens and inkwell, a large volume of poetry, gold-plated harness bells, handsome and expensive knick-knacks. I saved two for last, Von Karbelnikoff and Von Christ.

Anissina's present exploded. It was so very much what I expected it was refreshing. I was sure for once she'd built it to do just that. Once the smoke cleared, she stood on a chair to explain to me that, "Mr. Attentive Housekeeper monitors and deeply comprehends the state of your home from rafters to floorboards and punishes the owner severely for discrepancies in cleaning."

"It blows up if it's dusty?"

"Don't be so simple." She hit me with a soup spoon. "It fires a projectile. That was a minor malfunction just now. I'll show you how it works after tonight." In a moment of pure irrationality, I hugged her. She looked as startled as I did for a moment and patted my shoulder. "A plague, planned assassination, a cave in, and finally we see you in a crisis!" she whispered, only a little gleefully.

Dirk raised an eyebrow and opened the last gift before I could claim the privilege. The box itself was quite handsome, dark wood carved with simple geometric patterns, the sort of thing one might find in the Voltaire household. Gunter, I guessed, was the sort of person who reveled in picking out the perfect gift for the recipient. I knew it would be a trifle, as my real wedding gift waited in the stables, a jewel among horses.

The box contained a jewel of its own, one I immediately recognized. It was the lump of reddish crystal that Gunter had tried to tug out of the wall and dropped us into a labyrinth of caves in pursuit of. It was now wrapped with copper wire and set in a clawed silver base. It hadn't been cut except where the base was affixed. It was beautiful.

"Oh, my, Gunter!" Mother was watching us and had crowed over every gift but Anissina's, for which she'd wisely stood a comfortable ten feet back. "What a lovely conversation piece that would make. Is it an Augustine?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, it's my own. The base is from a broken lamp, but…" He trailed off, looking embarrassed for some reason.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." I took his hand and smiled for the first time that day. I'd be sure to liberate this one from Dirk's house and put it somewhere prominent in my bedroom. The crystal reflected light from the banquet hall's windows in thick blotches and strange orangey-red tones, throwing miniature sunsets all over the room. Gunter squeezed my hand back and returned my smile. His hand was cool on mine and his fingers brushed my wrist. It tickled a bit, and I mentally added it to the long list of places I wanted him to kiss me.

There was a thin bandage around his thumb. "What happened?"

"I perhaps shouldn't be let to use a rock saw unsupervised." He glanced at the crystal and looked sheepish. "Don't apologize, please."

He was right. I had been about to. "I wasn't going to. It's a wonderful gift and I'll treasure it always." One doesn't expect to say such things and mean them, but I did. Anissina threw an olive pit at me and I realized I'd been standing still and holding Gunter's hand for far too long, while the entire room watched. Perhaps I wasn't so subtle as I thought I was.

Servants were coming up to clear away the dessert and the big banquet tables, replacing them with small, circular tea tables that seemed to be made from metal leaves. I was more interested in watching a legion of help carry out drinks and finger foods than in Lord Rochefort's self satisfied introduction of the musicians, reciting the vintage of the various wines, and inviting everyone watch the new couple's first dance.

By new boots were a bit stiff, and I was glad to hear a soft song being played, a sentimental ballad that went on for an inordinate number of verses. As a wedding song it had no fault but being bland. The guests found flimsy chairs or leaned against the walls. From the light, I realized it wasn't long until sunset. That speech must have gone on longer than I'd thought.

All this I noted in the long moment before I had to take Dirk's hand and walk out onto the floor. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. Our gloves meant I didn't actually have to touch him just yet. His hands were bigger than mine, and he was taller, and I felt boxed in, even as we stopped in the center of the floor. I met his eyes. It would have been worse to try and avert mine for the whole of the dance.

"You look nice," he said as he wrapped his arm around my waist and took my hand.

I never had known how to take a compliment, sincere or otherwise. Two heartbeats went by before I could think of even the most banal reply to make. "Um, so do you." Against all reason, instinct told me he really was trying to make amends. Had something I'd said to him really made it through?

I'd expected him to tread on my toes, slip his hands low, and have garlic and wine on his breath, just because it would have fit well with the rest of the day. I was pleasantly surprised, though I didn't know what to make of it, to find he was a better dancer than I was and gentlemanly enough, though the eyes of the crowd surely had something to do with that.

"I really do think… blue eyes are alright." Somewhere in his not very active brain, he was struggling to be understood. I felt more pity than anything else at this point.

For the first time, I took a real look at him. His hair was a very deep indigo I could see he took from his mother, but oddly his eyes were golden. Striking. His family colors weren't very flattering, but he was a handsome young man. He managed to look well enough. I groped for something fair to say in return. "Gold are more impressive." Just echoing his compliments back at him might do.

I had a brief picture of myself, had things gone differently, trying to court Gunter. I didn't think I'd be quite so pathetic, but maybe it was better that I'd never had a chance.

"Well, nice of you to say so." And again we lapsed into silence. I was beginning to feel irrationally trapped, not just metaphysically but as though manacles were about to close around my ankles. All day I'd been so perfectly passive, and it was starting to set my teeth on edge.

And it was I who stepped on his feet, doing absolute wonders for my already cowering ego. It took all my force of will not to shove myself away from him when the song ended. The next dance was with our mothers, during which time she babbled. It was a familiar, easy sound, mother's babbling. When I stepped on her, she kicked me. I danced with each of my brothers, Anissina, Josak, and Giesella in quick succession, and by then I was tired and my back profoundly protested being hunched over for the sake of most of my partners all that time.

Anissina was the only one to dance worse than I. And I was fairly sure she was being sarcastic about it.

I glanced at my husband, satisfied myself that he had a partner for the next dance, and awarded myself a break. The whicker and wire chairs set up around the dance floor weren't comfortable, but my feet were beginning to really hurt. As I seemed to be the only one at the party who hadn't had a drink yet, judging from a glance around the room, I helped myself from a decanter of mediocre red wine and just watched for a bit.

Someone sat across from me. I looked over as casually as could be, hoping to see Gunter, but instead it was Dirk. "You look exhausted."

"I didn't sleep well." Attempting to be polite I poured him a glass of wine as well. "Was your partner called away?"

"Her little sister had too much cake." He shrugged. "It's getting dark."

"Yes." Small talk wasn't a natural skill of mine.

"Songs are going to start soon."

"…We're doing that?" It was a tradition that had fallen out of favor. Friends of the couple who happened to be musically inclined, or thought they were, would present whatever lyric ballad struck them as pertinent. It was, I had always imagined, painful for the listener and often the performer, too. Still, if Dirk's friends presented their contributions and mine didn't, it would just pile on one more humiliation for the day.

"Mother's idea. She's old fashioned. It won't be too many. One of my cousins, my sister, and a friend of mine in the guard is all." Three dedicated artistic performances to the pledge of our marriage by his family and friends. Dreadful.

What did he expect from this? Want from this? Dirk might be an empty-headed lout, but he was younger than I, perfectly entitled to expect some degree of happiness and companionship, even in a political marriage. With a plague and my rather cowardly, sanity-saving retreat back home between our engagement and hasty wedding, we hadn't had any time for the barest logistics. I didn't even know where I was expected to live. Little as I'd enjoy engaging the pest in conversation, the moment this party disbanded we needed a long, involved talk.

"Do you want to dance again?"

I winced. "Certainly." Telling him I'd rather be eaten by dragons seemed impolitic. The children at the party, beginning to be profoundly bored, had assembled in a sort of dance circle. One of those delightfully spontaneous instances of childhood glee led the circle to form around us as Dirk and I began our second, even more awkward dance. I kept glancing at Wolfram, who looked on the edge of a terrible temper tantrum. I forgot myself and we exchanged a grimace of shared, if not equal, disgust. Dirk looked rather hurt, and I was honestly sorry. Not enough to say anything, but sorry.

He looked as relieved as I did when the song ended, but before we could retreat from the mutually disheartening experience, his sister's wedding song was announced. We didn't have to dance, but we did have to go and stand beside the raised dais, listen, and smile. She was a competent singer with execrable taste, or perhaps she just didn't care much for her brother. Her song was an atonal, inane ballad with all the lyrical depth of… well, my relationship with my husband. Perhaps it was apt after all.

Dirk's cousin picked a traditional wedding song, less unpleasant on the ears, but it made me blush slightly. I couldn't help thinking about what could have been as I stood beside Dirk, hand-in-hand, and smiled painfully at the singers and the crowd.

His friend from the guard was a bit deep in his cups and ought to have warned the mothers of small children about his choice. Even Dirk looked a bit uncomfortably at the bawdy barroom song, and I must have been quite red. I knew I could feel warmth pressing uncomfortably at my cheeks. Every insinuation echoed off the vaulted ceilings for what seemed an eternity, even after he finished, several beats ahead of the musicians.

I expected to be allowed to go back to my table, but was more shocked than I ought to have been to see Anissina ascending the stage. Anissina could not sing. This had been established so long, so inarguably, that she'd embraced it, the rare fault she admitted to. She was toting a long, rectangular case. This could only end as well as any of her strange performances, but now I was glad.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court and of Rochefort's holdings!" she cried, swinging out her arm and shoving aside the hapless retainer who had been announcing the singers. "I would love nothing better than to take an opportunity to give my lifelong friend's marriage all the pomp and circumstance it is due." Anissina wasn't usually one for backhanded insults. Her insults were direct right hooks. But I did enjoy that one. "However, the shorter of the grooms has informed me on countless occasions that when I try to sing, rumors fly around the neighborhood that crows are being tortured." A few uncertain laughs ensued, but even those who'd never met her shied instinctively from Anissina's wrath. "So, in the interest of preserving the sensibilities of the lords and ladies tonight, I have taken the unorthodox step of arranging a wedding duet."

I must have been tired. I had no idea what she was planning until Gunter was actually onstage. I only realized then that I hadn't seen him since dinner. Someone happened to light a lamp behind his gift right as he took his place. His robes briefly glowed a dusky ruby, his hair glowed like a dying sun, and his skin took on the sheen of a fire opal. As the servant hastily moved the crystal away, his color returned to its pristine norm, though he still glowed for me. His cheeks were slightly pink. Gunter was always a careful dresser, but I was close enough to tell he'd poured even more effort into his appearance. Not a hair out of place, white and dusty rose robes accented by silver.

No one further than I from the stage could have spotted the little comb tucked into his hair, prettily carved and lacquered, bronze-plated and set with the greenest jade. It had belonged to my grandmother, who'd given it to Anissina in lieu of a female descendent of her own. (Grandmother had never had much use for me.) It was a Voltaire heirloom, and seeing it tucked into his hair gave me my first understanding of the phrase 'butterflies in the stomach."

Anissina's feet were dangling off the stage. She was wearing combat boots under her skirt. I caught her eye as she tuned the mazoku-infused sitar she'd brought along. She was visibly taken aback when I smiled at her. For once, I couldn't pretend to be displeased. I was sure she'd not told Gunter of the comb's history, but it still warmed something inside me that had been quite iced over.

I would have been happy at their choice of song even had this not been a beautiful spectacle designed by my two dearest friends to shore my spirits and save me face. It was a sweet traditional air, insipid, perhaps, but honest. And, oh! His voice. To a more sophisticated musician than myself, Gunter's performance was probably lacking technically correctness, and he didn't match Anissina's playing very precisely. I didn't care. I'd have listened forever. He was singing to me, and if his voice had a bit of an odd huskiness to it (perhaps he had a cold), that merely made it more endearing, lovelier for the imperfection.

"Through wood and glade I wander

Gathering blossoms as I go.

I'll bring them to my lord

That his heart he may bestow.

Shall I bring him roses

Or lilacs for his hair?

But the finest bloom of all

Is the love that we two share."

I couldn't help grinning like a fool. Gunter knew as well as anyone there was no love to be found in our ersatz affair, that Dirk and I had not the least affection for each other, but to hear him sing you'd be sure there was love in the room. And of course there was. I'd never loved him quite as I did at that moment, grateful as I was, enchanted by his performance, and feeling oddly protected, if only from a small embarrassment. It was the first thing anyone had done for me to save some of the ignobility of my wedding day, after all.

The guests gave him the same polite applause as the other three. The clapped rather louder when Anissina took her bow. Probably out of terror.

Gunter was very pink. Before I could get to him, Mother caught him, and I could hear her teasing him from a long ways off. I turned to Dirk, hoping I could get to him soon.

"You were right. That could have been much worse." I held out a hand, feeling I could deal with him now. I was strengthened, and the musicians were beginning another song. "Shall we dance again?"

"No, thank you. I'm still worn out." He turned rather abruptly and went off to a refreshment table. Bemused, I blinked after him for a moment until Anissina caught my hand and dragged me onto the floor.

"I'd forgotten all about that comb," I said. "Where has it been?"

"The bottom of a drawer, to be perfectly honest. I had a thought to the effect that you'd want him to have it."

"Yes. Thank you. But it's been yours for decades, so it was your gift."

"If you insist, I'll take the credit. Try and look more lively. Everyone knows you don't want to be here, but you're being ridiculous."

"Have we been civil too each other too long? I'm sorry. I'd have been happy to start the argument if I'd been watching the clock."

"Don't be stupid, Gwen. If you don't want to be the subject to gossip over for the next few weeks at least, have a little sense."

I spun her a little too hard. "I've determined already I'm insufficiently interesting."

She drove her heel into my toe and leaned in close. "I never thought I'd see what happens when you throw a tantrum, but this may just be it."

"How much do you expect a man to take?"

"You, more than most. But for Shinou's sake, Gwendal, take a little bit more unless you want all your own misery to be for nothing, since you've insisted on suffering all this time."

I still didn't know what she was driving at, but it was keeping Anissina serious and mostly nonviolent for more than six seconds. I nodded and we were quiet for the rest of the dance. I sat one out, danced again with my husband in strained conversation, about what I couldn't say. I went for a drink, almost despairing of catching Gunter for a moment, when suddenly there was a soft hand on my arm.

"May an old friend ask for a dance?" He smiled at me almost shyly, setting his glass down. "We seem to have missed each other too often."

"I could hardly miss you seldom enough." It was out before I'd thought about it, perhaps thanks to the wine I'd just been sipping. I hoped it sounded like a bland pleasantry. "I'd be happy to."

I noticed as he took my hand that he wasn't wearing gloves. Following my eyes, he looked chagrined. "Giesela spilled coffee on them. I thought it better to be unfashionable than slovenly."

It was ridiculous to feel my heart speed up because there was one less layer of cloth between us. We'd bathed together! But in the stuffy atmosphere of the room, with my new in-laws all around waiting to pull me down into their intrigues, this tiny detail lightened the burden. "I've never cared a great deal about fashion," I replied quietly, and wound my arm around his waist.

I much preferred leading in a dance. Dirk was a head taller than I, Anissina insisted on leading to make some point or other, and dancing with a succession of children meant just making do. I felt much surer this way, breathed easier. There was no sense of claustrophobia. Just Gunter pressed against me, his hand in mine, our hearts beating together.

"You've been very quiet today. You've every right to, but you really must try to show a brave face, Gwen." I nodded. Sage advice. Coming from Anissina it hadn't seemed nearly so important. "He hasn't offered you any new insult?" Gunter continued.

I shook my head. "He's been polite. I think he has enough sense to make amends. He can't like the idea of my quietly hating him for the next few centuries." I was leading, but Gunter was guiding me. He let me borrow some of his grace, steering my steps. He trusted that I'd follow the slightest direction of his hand, the least little push. I couldn't help thinking of directing a well-behaved horse. O happy horse, to bear the weight of Gunter!

I smiled a bit at my unspoken romantic flair and he gave me a quizzical look. "Found something to hearten you?"

"Hardly. I've been moving from mood to mood so rapidly I don't know what I think. I can't tell you how many times I've resolved to leave childhood and all these petty, flimsy feelings behind. But every time I resolve on a course I step right off the path."

"That, dear friend, is called life." Gunter took a particularly long, graceful step to pull us out of the way of Conrart dancing with Josak. I noticed only as our steps became regular again that I'd followed him without the slightest stumble. In another life, I could have kept turning with him, lifted his light body without much effort, and dropped his weight onto my arm so I could kiss him hard and deep. I imagined it for a moment, relishing the shocked whispers that would begin, Anissina's laugh, and Gunter's cool, soft lips yielding slowly to mine, and let it go.

"Maybe you're right. I just wish I were half as clever as I think I am."

"I wish you thought yourself half as clever as you are." He shook his head fondly, pulling me just a little to the right. My long coat and his flowing robe twined together for a moment, tangled by momentum, and pulled us a little closer. "How dreadful was my performance?"

"It was perfectly flawless. And thank you. You and Anissina were the only ones tonight who tried to help… And you did it wonderfully." I was determined to get him to sing for me again, should it take years.

"I'm sure that your mother would if she knew how, Raven if he dared, your uncle if he could realize he'd like to. And didn't Wolfram drop that book on your groom's toe?"

"No, he missed. But you're right. It was a good try." The music was rising now, or maybe that was just me. The floor was crowded. The wine had flowed freely and now that it was really dark, people were losing themselves in the party, not just the occasion. Gunter and I had to move close and carefully, and it was splendid. In the midst of so large a crowd, we were still alone. My earlier claustrophobia was forgotten, so long as my close quarters were shared with the man I loved.

Gunter smiled at me. "In any case, you're too kind. I took voice lessons when I was young, but only because my parents had always loved music, and I was hopeless at any instrument. I can barely carry a tune."

"You carried it well." I pulled him a bit to the side this time, avoiding a lady's very high heel. "And your gift was far too splendid. After you already gave me Gyre…"

"Don't contest my right to give my friend all the wedding gifts I see fit. I was honestly afraid you'd not see the charm of that crystal. I did get us trapped underground for it, after all." He looked shy.

"Trapped underground with you. I'd have missed a… wonderful adventure without it." I didn't think I'd used the word adventure, outside the context of reading to Wolfram, in years. "It'll always be one of my greatest treasures." Gunter could look so young and fragile sometimes, and I had to admit I loved being able to make his face light up with that simple promise.

"It puts me in mind of you, Gwendal. I broke off a piece while I was setting the stone in the base." He reached under his collar and pulled out a slender chain. An irregular fragment of red crystal, wrapped in the same wire, dangled from his fingers for a moment before he tucked it back. "It was an adventure, wasn't it?"

It definitely wasn't my imagination. The music was rising, faster now. This likely happened all the time, and I lacked the ear to notice or the skill in dancing to respond. With Gunter as my guide, our steps perfectly mirrored the beat. For the last minute of the dance, we didn't speak anymore, simply matching each other's steps, Gunter gently directing my movements, I pulling him along. There was strength and delicacy in our dance in those last moments, a strange comingling of eddying wind and solid earth. I twirled him in my arms and he ruled my every step.

As the music fell I realized we were both a bit hot and Gunter's perfect couture was slightly (becomingly) awry. I reached out and adjusted the comb that glittered in his upswept hair. "I… I'd better get back to my husband."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. Gunter nodded. "I suppose you'd better. Thank you for my dance."

I caught his hand for a moment, but I had nothing to say. I tried to pass it off with a smile and a squeeze. "Thank you." He nodded and left me. I couldn't watch him work his way over the dance floor, dodging my way past the guests myself. I caught a glimpse as I emerged by the refreshment tables. He picked up a sleepy looking Giesela and moved her onto his back. She was a well grown girl and he was such a slight thing. Though I knew he was far stronger than he seemed, it was a touching picture.

Before I found Dirk I stumbled upon Wolfram asleep on two chairs pushed together. I carried him to the high table and deposited him on Mother's lap, disrupting her conversation with the Ladies Gyllenhaal and Radford.

"Gwen, be a dear and watch him?"

"Getting married Mother. Remember?"

"Oh, where's Raven gotten to?" She pouted, but I didn't see him and refused to take Wolfram off her hands. I'd have liked to, but I'd avoided my husband enough. When I turned around, Dirk was behind me. He was very stealthy for his size.

"He's a cute little guy." He passed me a glass of wine. I shouldn't have, but it was getting later, drawing close to the eleventh hour.

"He is." My sweet little Wolfram was always worth talking about. If it hadn't been for Gunter, my brothers would have had all my heart, and Conrart didn't need me so much anymore. "A right brat sometimes. But cute."

"Funny how none of you look anything alike."

"Wolfram looks like Mother, and Conrart and I are both our respective fathers all over again." Small talk. No hostility, nothing recriminating or insidious. Another tiny step forward. Though it was strange to think that, had I not done the right thing, Wolfram would be the one marrying this halfwit.

"Little brothers are always brats, anyway. Just ask my sister."

I managed a thin smile. He was trying. He and I talked for a while longer, and finished off a decanter of wine between us. It seemed we'd both lost our enthusiasm for dancing. The conversation wasn't memorable but that it happened, that it went on for some time and I didn't feel particularly like I wanted to strangle my husband.

A room full of increasingly drunken nobles continued to darken around us, but even as we completely ran out of things to say, neither Dirk nor I realized what time it was until the gong sounded. We both started, and he grinned, restoring me to all the perverse pleasure of my original hatred. He took my hand and we headed toward the stairs, bedecked with greenery and gold ribbon for the occasion. I'd not even noticed before. I hadn't noticed much today.

We had trouble forcing our way through the crowd. Every wedding guest was in front of the stairs, wanting to cheer us on our way up. At least there weren't any speeches at this stage. I amused myself imagining what our parents would say. My mother would have no trouble. "I've always been absolutely sure my little Gwennie would go to his marriage bed untouched. The awkward little thing couldn't even stand to hear kisses in his bedtime reading until he was close to forty. Can you imagine?" Dirk's father, I liked to imagine, would somehow manage to go on for fifteen minutes about it. Dirk waved and smiled at the crowd. When he bowed, I was dragged along too, my face burning, stomach tied in a nauseous knot. I couldn't see Gunter. He must have taken Giesela off to bed before this always humiliating spectacle. It was only proper, but I'd have liked one last sight of him before I went up those stairs.

The gong was smashed again. It was big enough to make the whole room reverberate and I only wanted to get away from the noise and eyes and cheers, get it over with. I turned very quickly and Dirk came with me, leading me up the stairs.

The chanting crowd didn't get any quieter as we went up three flights and turned down a hallway. I could still hear them even when the door of Dirk's room closed behind him. It was revoltingly prepared. I doubted my husband was responsible for the rose petals on the bed, yet another bottle of wine on the nightstand, the basket of chocolate and scented oil in pretty bottles. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and realized I looked terrified. I tried to hide that, swallowed, wishing my color would return to normal. At the moment I was pale as a ghost and sweating as though a fever had struck.

Dirk smiled at me, and it was more like the smirk I'd gotten to know so well when we'd first met. I hoped I was keeping my face neutral. "I knew you'd be tense. Come and sit on the bed." I walked behind him and obeyed. He opened the bottle. More wine? I was tipsy already, but maybe it would help. I turned to look at him in the hopes of steeling myself and he pressed a chocolate to my lips. I hated chocolate.

It was already there. I chewed quickly and swallowed. As I sipped as delicately as I could make myself, his hand ran over my hair. His fingers worked out the pendant mother had fit there, a piece I suddenly realized was a match for the comb Gunter had worn. I had to sit stiffly to keep from shuddering as he pulled my hair loose and it fell around my shoulders. He leaned in and nuzzled, breathing in deeply.

"You smell like sandalwood."

Though I knew I couldn't, my mind insisted I still heard cheering from downstairs. "I do? Oh. Yes." Cologne. Never wore the stuff usually.

"It suits you." Dirk shrugged off his jacket. I used the moment to pour myself another glass. I shied away from his fingers on the buttons of my coat, then forced myself to stay still, and to set aside the cup. That didn't matter. The night's libations had caught up with me and I was beginning to be as woozy as I was frightened.

"I didn't realize."

In answer, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't as bad as the first time, but still revolting. I decided to unbutton my shirt myself. I'd rather maintain a little control. The air in the room was cooler than I thought, but he seemed enthused and pressed against me, the little comfort lost. And when had his shirt been lost?

I really shouldn't have had so much wine. My head was out of place, my vision a bit blurred, my stomach churning. Yet I couldn't escape the scene, couldn't forget what was going on. I'd made myself ill, sloppily, disgracefully drunk without even the satisfaction of escape.

"Gwen." My name on his lips made me wince, and he kissed lower, my neck and shoulders. I couldn't repress a little shudder then. He paused, but moved on, his hands lower. I was naked before I knew what had happened. Every second I was fighting the urge to twist away, to gasp and shudder and sob.

His weight was on me. No more escape. I just wanted him to get it over with, but when he kissed me again I did cry out. Despite my best efforts, but it was only a little sound.

He stopped and sighed. My eyes snapped back open, and only then did I realize they'd been screwed shut. Dirk rolled off without another word, lying down on the other side of the bed.

I half sat up. "You… we are married, I mean…"

"Shut up, Blue Eyes." He threw a small pillow at me. "Shut up and go to sleep."

I wiped my eyes and breathed deeply. I hadn't been breathing, had I? "Thank you."

"I told you to be quiet, stupid." He pulled the blanket over his head and I settled down, as far from him as I could get on the bed. Despite the maelstrom of relief and disgust that still spun in my stomach, I was asleep in moments.

Author's Note: Gunter's song at the wedding is from Jane and the Dragon, a simply marvelous children's show. This chapter also contains a Shakespearean allusion. See if you can find it! Otherwise, yeah, Gwendal hates me for what I put him through.