The Darkness That Binds Us

Chapter 21: The Kiss

Everyone in the chapel rises in unison when i enter, a sea of blue, red and purple meets my eye. Segregated into sub-orders, they stand strictly to attention, however the sparkle in their eyes when they meet mine tells a different story. They wait in anticipation. 

I start walking.

An orchestra beginnings to play 'The Ballad Of  Saint Elizabetha Of The Roses'. A piece which is ordinarily reserved for funerals, yet undeniably one of the the most beautiful cords ever played on strings. It's a melancholy longing of a sound which resonates in building waves.

Cherry blossom begins to fall like ash. All around me it is still, except from the music, and the empty echoing of my hallowed foot falls. 

Somewhere from above i hear a hatch lift as a dozen silver swallows swoop into the chapels newly-commissioned night-sky dome. Their is a collective -breathless- gasp from the audience as the drilled birds circle above me.

 I try to resist the urge to look up and watch, as people from the tiers above crane over there seats to watch me. Merchers and their wives, dressed in black, look on from the upper terrace, as royalty stand in their private balconies. Blue-eyed Ferjdan royals from the Gimjer line in one booth, with a tall, green-robed, woman in the other. From her bronzed shu features, i realise she must be the Taban; Shu han's shrew queen. Makhi Kir-Taban herself has traveled to Ravka, perhaps she seeks to make an alliance with the darkling. It would not surprise me. The Taban's face was focused but illegible. Like everyone in this chapel, i could feel her studying me, but i did not return her glaze as i walked down the aisle.

A liquid river of rainbow stretches out infront of me as light filters in from the stain glass windows, painting the cold titles in rich, warm, water colour.

 I almost stop dead in my tracks when i see him.

With ivory flowers draped over every surface the scent of sweet honeysuckle fills the air, an aroma which only grows with every step i take towards the main centrepiece. Swallows swoop lower still coming together as trained to coalesce on the trusses mistoe which make up the looming arbour over the altar, where he stands waiting.

The darkling isn't wearing black. He's in white. 

I slow with the music. 

Aleksander wears a white kefta. Hemmed in the same black lace as my dress, trimmed with white fox fur which rises up around the nape of his neck. He has  a long sword at his side and a alabaster-white rose pinned to his lapel. His hair is combined and his cheeks are dusted with silver. He looks... beautiful -as ever.  But, for all the world, i can't seem to make in past the white kefta.

'What?'

'Your not in black.'  Is the only thing i can think.

'I thought i'd try something new.' His response echos in my head. 'Is something wrong?'

'No...' I am forced to admit to myself, 'just...'  I realise i've stopped walking completely.  'Stay out of my head!'

The darkling looks down coyly to fiddle with his onyx cufflinks. The music comes surging back and i spurr myself to the final steps. He holds out his hand and for a second, i hesitate, he freezes,  in his black, unwavering, eyes something flickers. Doubt? Fear?  It doesn't matter, it's gone the moment i slip my hand into his. 

The chapel ignites. 

Light hits the stain glass windows  fracturing into a thousand rainbows. Rays of every colour fly across the hall and up into the dome's glided eves. Shadows flow in slowly sinking inky waterfalls. The light dims and a canopy of glistening gold settles, shimmering, over us.