EIGHT
Sylvia had to wait a week for her wedding because
Jaenelle wouldn’t allow Beron to travel to the Keep until every
tiny part of his ears, eyes, and throat had healed completely. She
chafed about the delay, but approved of the reason.
The Priestess from
Riada came to the Keep to perform the marriage ceremony. The food
for the living guests had been provided by Mrs. Beale from the Hall
and Merry from The Tavern.
Sylvia’s father and
brother had been invited. They weren’t able to smudge that line
between the living and the dead and had refused to attend. But her
sons were there, along with Marian and Lucivar, Daemonar, Jillian
and Nurian, Tersa and Manny, Surreal and Rainier, Daemon and
Jaenelle, and plenty of kindred who were also members of this
pieced-together family.
Saetan slipped an arm
around her waist and held out a ravenglass goblet of yarbarah. “How
are you doing, Lady Sylvia?”
Accepting the goblet,
she narrowed her eyes. “Mikal and Daemonar are about to get into
some mischief. They’ve got that look.”
“You think so?” he
asked, laughing softly.
The boys had barely
taken a step before they were flanked by Scelties and blocked by
Kaelas. In that moment, Sylvia saw three male heads turn in that
direction—Daemon, Lucivar, and Rainier.
She pressed her lips
together to keep from laughing aloud, since Mikal looked so annoyed
at having his fun stopped before it started.
She took a sip of the
yarbarah, then handed back the goblet. “I appreciate the sentiment,
and the dress is gorgeous, but Jaenelle
shouldn’t have harassed the dressmakers to get it made for the
wedding.” The wedding ring, a square-cut ruby with flanking
diamonds, had come from Banard’s shop. It wasn’t custom-made like
the dress, but it had been chosen with care.
“My darling,
Jaenelle would never harass a
dressmaker or be as demanding about fit and style.”
Sylvia brushed a hand
over the rich red fabric. “Then who ... ?”
“Daemon, however,
makes up for being demanding by knowing exactly what he wants—and
being a very generous patron of some of Amdarh’s more exclusive
establishments.”
She felt the room tip
a little when she considered the rest of the wedding gift. “The
lingerie? Jaenelle or Surreal chose that. Didn’t
they?”
Saetan just looked at
her.
“Oh, Hell’s
fire.”
“Has it occurred to
you yet that Daemon and Lucivar are now your
stepsons?”
“Don’t threaten me on
my wedding day, SaDiablo.”
He burst out
laughing.
A minute later,
Jaenelle came up to them and gave Sylvia a bright smile that would
have scared her right down to her toes if she’d still had
any.
“I need to borrow
your wife,” Jaenelle told Saetan. “Lady Sylvia and I need to have a
little chat.”