Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 50

Unsettling as it had been, her conversation with Tess nearly faded entirely the next morning as her room became a bustling hive of activity.

It was her wedding day.

She was up before dawn, not because she had to be but because she’d awoken and had been unable to fall back to sleep. Instead of calling for Sala and Cerulle, however, she took a few moments to herself, lying there in her bed.

This was the official start of the rest of her life.

After today, she would no longer be Kindra Bedelyn of Harthwin.

She would be Kindra Annalindis, Princess of Alverin.

She said the name aloud, rolled it around in her mouth.

“Kindra Annalindis,” she whispered to herself. “Princess of Alverin.” Then, “Cursebreaker.”

And then, quieter than the rest, “God-blessed.”

She took a deep breath, brushing off the strange feeling the title gave her.

Today was not the day to let her anxieties get the best of her. That could come later. Today she had to swallow down every bit of fear. She had to be strong, for the sake of her kingdom. And herself.

There was a knock on the door, and she took another deep breath. She steeled herself and allowed the mask Gregory had helped her craft slide into place.

When the servants entered, none of them saw through its cracks.

Kindra’s wedding gown was a triumph of extravagance in every sense .

She’d seen dress already, of course, in the numerous fittings she’d had over the last couple weeks. Every inch of fabric had to be perfect, no thread too loose or too tight. But still, seeing it paired with the long veil and plentiful number of jeweled accessories, it was no doubt a thing of beauty. She was glad that she was able to appreciate it.

The gown was a deep blood red—the same shade as the dress she’d worn to meet the royal family all those weeks ago. The bodice was adorned with gold accents; there were several gemstones sewn along the neckline and waist that glittered in the light. Some were as large as coins—one of them alone could feed a family for years. She tried not to think too much about the outrageous wealth she carried on her body.

The skirt fell in flowing layers all around her, the silk decorated with swirling golden thread. It was by far the largest dress she’d ever seen, much less worn. It was also extremely heavy. Already, she was anticipating getting to take it off. At least she had a different gown for the celebration ball tonight.

Her hair had been arranged into an intricate updo, sparkling pins holding the shimmering golden veil in place. When it was time, the veil would be brought down to cover her face—it would remain that way until the very end of the ceremony. For now, though, it remained pulled back so Cerulle could apply the last of her cosmetics.

Her makeup was simple for the ceremony, but she’d been told that for the ball tonight, a much more dramatic look was expected. Her dress for the occasion was sure to be a conversation-starter, and Cerulle would undoubtedly match its boldness.

Cerulle pulled back, examining her work. She and Sala wore matching black gowns. They were long-sleeved and plain, but elegant in their own right. The two women were to walk with her down the aisle, making sure her dress and veil fell just right when she got to the altar, so their attire was designed to prevent any attention from being pulled away from the bride. They were to be her shadows.

“You look beautiful, my Lady,” Cerulle said softly. “I believe you are ready.” She glanced at the clock. “And not a moment too soon; we are to head to the temple in just a few minutes.”

The wedding ceremony would take place in the fire temple. All royal weddings occurred there, but her and Jasper’s was the first time in decades that it felt like there was a deeper reason for it besides stubborn family tradition.

Kindra nodded, taking a deep breath. “All right, then.”

Sala came to stand beside her. After a moment of hesitation, the Healer reached over and grabbed Kindra’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “It is just a ceremony, Lady Kindra. It changes nothing. You and His Highness’s love is true.”

It changes everything, Kindra wanted to say, but she knew the Healer would not understand, not when she didn’t know what was at stake. So, she opted for a demure smile instead. “Thank you, Sala.”

They brought the veil down over her face and the world was cast in a golden haze. She was grateful to have the two women there to guide her out of her rooms, where the guards were waiting to escort her to the temple.

The castle was essentially empty. All the nobility and a good portion of the Royal Guard would be at the wedding and were already at the temple. Only a few guards remained, the ones who likely drew the short stick and were having to miss out on the ceremony to patrol.

Still, the guards surrounded Kindra so that she was entirely hidden as they made their way out of the castle and across the grounds to the fire temple. Every foot of the gardens had been decorated, the bright red and gold streamers and ornaments popping against the barren trees. The sky was slightly overcast; it was likely going to snow soon. She’d always thought she’d marry in the summer, when Cyrie’s power was at its peak, but here she was, in the dead of winter, walking to her wedding. Hopefully, that wasn’t an omen of some kind.

The outside of the fire temple was quiet, save for the few dozen guards stationed around it, but Kindra knew the inside was packed. She could hear the distant hum of the crowd gathered outside the castle walls, waiting to catch a glimpse of their new princess. After the ceremony, she and Jasper were to walk the walls, so people arrived as early as dawn to get as close as possible.

As soon as it was relayed that she had arrived, the grand doors to the temple swung open, and the sound of a choir flowed out. Still hidden behind the swarm of guards, she heard more than saw the crowd inside rising to their feet. From the side of the temple entrance, the rest of the royal family appeared, along with her mother, ready to process in.

She tried to catch a better glimpse of Jasper, but he, too, was surrounded by guards. She caught the bobbing of his head, though, and giggled, knowing that he was trying to see her as well.

Helena turned her head to snap at him. “Quit it! It’s bad luck! You’ll see her in just a few moments.” The chastisement got a chuckle out of a few of the guards. Helena turned and rose up on her tiptoes to peer over at Kindra. “I can look at her though. And I have to say, she looks beautiful .”

Kindra smiled. “I better,” she replied, “considering this dress weighs three times as much as I do!”

More laughter. Even the king’s mouth twitched in a fleeting smile. Their chuckles were silenced, however, as a guard began to usher the king and queen forward into the temple, starting the processional.

The order was simple: the king and queen, followed by the royal family in order of their right to the throne. At the guard’s signal, Antone and Celeste made their way down the aisle. Sebastian and Myala were next. Kindra had been surprised when she’d learned the other princess was to attend, given her bed rest order. But Myala walked with her head high, her steps slow but even, one hand curved under her full belly. Sebastian was a steady presence at her side. Kindra heard the gasps from the crowd in the temple—they had not expected to see Myala today, either.

After Helena and Emeline, it was her mother. She looked radiant in her golden gown—all the family was wearing gold today, save for Kindra and Jasper, who were both dressed in red. Kindra tried to find a space between the guards to watch as her mother walked down the aisle alone, looking every bit as regal as the queen herself.

Jasper was next. The guards around him dispersed so he could process alone, and Kindra finally got a good look at him. As usual, his jacket matched her gown, though it was far more detailed than any one she’d seen him in before. He wore his crown on his head. She would receive a crown of her own at the end of the ceremony, something she didn’t like thinking too much about. That was the one element of her attire she hadn’t seen yet.

Before she knew it, she was moving up the steps to the entrance, and every pair of eyes in the temple were on her .

For a moment, the sheer amount of attention on her was overwhelming, and she felt her hands begin to shake. But then she locked onto Jasper. Even through the veil, she could make out the softness of his expression as he beheld her. It steadied her, and she began to move.

Cerulle and Sala took up their places behind her, holding the ends of her skirts. Her hands clutched the front, hoisting the heavy fabric up just enough so she wouldn’t trip. Through the veil, Jasper’s face was blurry, seemingly a mile away at the end of the aisle.

This is who you’re marrying, she told herself. He is a good man. He is a kind man.

He loves you.

And you love him.

Yes, she loved him, and she had never been so sure as she was in that moment, walking towards him to the ornate golden altar where the fire priest awaited. She felt no fear, not as she reached the steps and slowly climbed them to stand by Jasper’s side.

More than anything, she wanted to turn to him, to grab his hand, to at least look at him, but that was not permitted, not yet. First, they had to recite their prayers, a monotonous ritual that was made even more so by the priest’s monotonous recitations. But the couple drank from their chalices and made all the appropriate gestures with the rest of the royal family. The final bow to the statues of Scaldor and Cyrie—one hand over their heart and the other placed over their stomachs, where it was said that fire magic was stored—signaled the beginning of the next portion of the ceremony.

The king and queen stepped forward from their spots on the dais. Kindra had made a point to not look at them once so far, but now she was unable to avoid it.

King Leofric took the place of the fire priest. Clad in white and gold today rather than his usual black and red, he looked every bit the hero he believed himself to be; the savior of Alverin, standing before his God-blessed cursebreaker who would help lead his kingdom through war.

“Today is a historic day for our kingdom,” he began, voice booming through the temple. “For more than a century, the Annalindis family has been wrongfully punished, our God-blessed magic ripped from us by the actions of an ignorant child.” Malice dripped from his words, and Kindra was grateful the veil concealed her face. “For generations, our family—our kingdom—has not seen a Firefury Annalindis. But today, that changes.” He looked down at Kindra, and if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn there was something akin to affection on his face. “Kindra has dedicated much of her life to protecting her home. Most of you have heard the stories by now; many of you have seen her great power on display. You have witnessed her dedication to strengthening her magic and serving Alverin—something she has been doing before she ever became Prince Jasper’s betrothed. She is our burning hope: our cursebreaker.” Then he spoke the simple words of the royal blessing: “The Crown blesses you.”

She heard the warning, meant just for her, behind every single word. Every syllable was an expectation being set: she was indeed to be Alverin’s beacon of hope during this time, and if that meant she had to actually serve Alverin on a battlefield, she would have to do so or risk his fury.

Leofric looked to his son now, and Kindra braced herself for whatever half-hearted and backhanded blessing he was about to bestow upon him. But to her surprise—and Jasper’s, judging by the slight widening of his eyes—the king was kind. He spoke to Jasper’s scholarly pursuits, to his masterful swordsmanship, and even to his compassion. She didn’t know how much of the praise the king truly meant, but he delivered it with a convincing earnestness that had even Jasper moved. Kindra thought she glimpsed silver lining her betrothed’s eyes. How long had he been waiting to hear this kind of praise from his father? How much did it hurt that he was only hearing it because it now served Leofric’s best interests?

“The Crown blesses you, my son.” Kindra blinked at the added endearment; she felt the shock ripple off Jasper.

Part of her wished the king was really turning over a new leaf because he’d improved as a person; the rest of her knew better than to even dream of such a thing. It was now necessary to make nice with his youngest son, whom he’d disregarded since birth but was to be married to the one he believed could save his kingdom. He was no fool; if he was to have Kindra’s support, he had to stop shitting all over her husband.

He would never truly have Kindra’s support, but she wasn’t going to be the one to let him know that.

Finally, the king stepped back, and he and the queen once again moved off to the side. The fire priest took his position in front of them again .

The priest began rattling off the many tenants of marriage. Kindra was barely listening; half of the tenants were archaic and hardly even acknowledged anymore, but tradition was tradition. She and Jasper both gave their affirmation to uphold them with little enthusiasm.

“You may turn to one another and join hands.” They did so, and Kindra once again locked onto Jasper’s gaze. She felt the world around her blur and fade, until it was just them and the priest. Just a man and a woman exchanging vows because they loved each other.

The priest began the promises. Jasper went first, proclaiming a loud, “I do,” at the end of each one. He never once looked away from her.

When it was her turn, she said every, “I do,” just as loudly. She meant each one—she did promise to love him, to protect him, to stand by him.

“As you have made your promises,” the fire priest said when they finished, “it is now time to present this union to the gods. May they bless you.”

This was their cue to kneel. It was a tricky feat in her giant dress, but she managed it. They each bowed their heads and waited.

This was the part of the ceremony that Kindra was the most nervous about. At the end of the promises, the gods were supposed to either bless their union or ignore them. To be ignored wasn’t a condemnation, exactly—none of Jasper’s siblings had been blessed on their wedding days, nor had Leofric and Cordilya, but none of them were Firefuries. None of them were God-blessed.

So, if Scaldor and Cyrie did not send them a blessing… well, that would not look very good at all, even to the people who had no idea she was God-blessed.

It was only a few seconds before it came, though it felt like an eternity. The crowd collectively exclaimed in awe as the sun burst through the overcast sky, sending a beam of light down through the stained-glass windows to illuminate the pair. Kindra’s skin warmed—it was too powerful to be a simple act of nature. Around them, the firelit sconces flared in unison.

Kindra let out a relieved exhale, only to stiffen a moment later when she felt an ancient, yet frighteningly familiar power brush against her own.

Scaldor’s presence danced around her for a second longer before vanishing, the sun drifting away behind the clouds once more. Kindra swallowed, throat tightening, and hoped nobody had detected the shift in her demeanor. But everyone was smiling and applauding. The king observed her with an approving grin. Her mother wiped tears from her eyes.

The fire priest laughed gleefully, stunned to witness such a phenomenon for the first time in his life—for the first time in a century. When he presented Kindra with her crown, he did so with a hopeful smile.

The crown looked suspiciously like Scalya’s, though more decorated. She had little doubt the king had overseen its design. Yet another message, another expectation.

Jasper lifted the veil from her face, pushing it up and over her head.

“Let the gods bear witness.” The priest crowned her. Everyone seemed to hold their breath before he lifted his hands into the air. “Rise, Prince Jasper Annalindis. Rise, Princess Kindra Annalindis. You are bound, in life and in eternity. Look upon your people.”

And so, the couple rose to the applause of the crowd. Jasper drew her close to him; he wasn’t supposed to kiss her, but he did so anyway, his hands cupping her face.

“Wife,” he murmured against her lips.

“Husband,” she replied breathily.

The fire priest coughed awkwardly behind them. They were supposed to lead the processional out.

“We’re going, we’re going,” Jasper said, and Kindra giggled. He interlaced their fingers, and they made their way out of the temple.

Outside, they could hear the excited clammer of the civilians, eagerly waiting to catch a glimpse of the married couple. The guards led them to the walls, where they climbed—slowly, given Kindra’s gown—up a watchtower staircase to emerge on the broad stone walkway overlooking Wendrith.

The applause in the fire temple had been enthusiastic. But it was nothing compared to the deafening roar of the crowd as Kindra and Jasper appeared.

Kindra couldn’t help it; an overwhelmed laugh escaped her at the sight. Thousands of people flooded the streets, all the way down the sloping hills of the capital. Many were too far away to see much of anything, but they cheered and waved streamers and threw flowers with the rest of the crowd. Jasper kissed her again, and the resounding cries left her ears ringing.

But as they began their walk along the walls, waving and smiling and looking every bit the happy, royal newlyweds the people wanted them to be—that they were—Kindra couldn’t shake the feeling of Scaldor’s power wrapped around hers; that it had served as a warning of some kind and they were cresting the top of a hill, about to begin an unstoppable, dangerous descent.