Arms-Commander

EPILOGUE

Saryn glanced toward the side doorway leading into the main hall of the villa of Duevek. Sarron, she mentally corrected herself, the place where peace begins. She straightened, glancing down at the finery she was unaccustomed to wearing. She’d insisted on trousers and boots for the combined betrothal and consorting ceremony, but she had compromised-slightly-by wearing a brilliant blue and high-collared tunic long enough that the silver-edged hem reached down to midthigh over the black trousers.

Her eyes went to Hryessa, standing by the closed side door, who still wore the uniform of a Westwind guard.

“Not yet, ser,” said the Arms-Commander of Sarron, with a smile. “They will wait. Do not hurry, for they will want to remember the day. And you should not be in haste, Angel. This will happen but once in your life.”

That was all too true. She had to admit, if reluctantly, that she’d picked Dealdron because he’d been the only man unhesitatingly to put his life on the line for her. And because he loves you, and because there’s some feeling on your part. Only after the fact had she realized that it had been a wise decision politically, as well, because it avoided any implied favoritism toward any of the other High Holders.

A fleeting smile crossed her face as she recalled Dealdron’s words and his feelings when he had been recovering-What will happen is what will happen, but what ever happens, you are my angel.

Finally, Hryessa opened the side door and stepped aside to let Saryn enter first.

Saryn walked slowly-she hoped her movements were stately-until she stood almost in the middle of the low dais, empty of all chairs or furnishings. Hryessa followed, but stopped two paces behind Saryn.

Saryn turned to face those assembled before her. Standing arrayed across the hall were the lord-holders of Lornth-and the four lady-holders, all of whom had pledged to Saryn. Four guards stood at each end of the dais. While Saryn had not insisted on anyone attending the ceremony, clearly all had wanted to be there, for what ever reason, even though she had declared that only a half squad of guards would be welcome in accompanying each lord-or lady-holder. At the very front of the holders, on the left, stood Zeldyan, and opposite her, on the right side, were Maeldyn and Anyna. Anyna smiled warmly at Saryn.

“Saryn of the Angels, and Overlord of Lornth!” announced Daryn from beside the main doors to the hall. For the ceremony, he wore the gray of Westwind.

The doors at the back of the hall opened. From outside the hall came a short fanfare on a horn-the same horn that Saryn had used to signal her guards.

“Dealdron of Westwind!” announced Daryn.

Even from that distance, Saryn could see that the smith was smiling broadly as he finished the announcement and as Dealdron walked past him, his polished black boots firm, yet almost soundless, on the marble tiles of the hall floor.

Saryn watched as he moved toward her. His formal tunic was a muted grayish silver, not shimmering, and trimmed in black. His trousers were a gray that was not quite black. All eyes followed him as he reached the dais, then stepped up onto it, his honest eyes taking in Saryn.

She managed to hold a pleasant smile, even though the love and adoration in his expression washed over her, and she swallowed.

Once he stood on the dais, and they both faced those in the hall, she nodded to him, and they turned sideways, so that they faced each other.

A young guard stepped forward with a small green pillow on which rested two matching gold rings, each set with a square emerald.

Saryn turned slightly and took the larger ring, holding it high for a moment before lowering it and facing Dealdron directly once more. “As a token of my faith, with this ring, I ask for your hand, pledging both my hand and my honor.”

Dealdron extended his left hand, and Saryn slid the ring in place, adding so quietly that only he could hear, “and my appreciation and affection for all that you have endured and all that you have offered.”

She could sense…something…a feeling that was not only love, but a hope and a belief on his part that she would find love with him. And he just might be right.

In turn, Dealdron lifted the smaller ring from the pillow, and Saryn extended her hand. His words were deep and warm as he said, “With this ring, I give you my hand, and all that I have.” After he eased the ring onto her finger, his hand tightened around hers but for an instant as he murmured, “For you are and always have been my angel.”

Saryn barely managed not to swallow, although her eyes burned for a moment, before she recalled the formal close to the ceremony. “Two hands promised in honor and for the future of Lornth.”

“For the future of Lornth!” chorused the assembled guards, holders, and consorts.

She reached out and again took her consort’s hand.