Dragons and Princes - [COMPLETE]

18. Faeana

Patreos was not present. Faeana felt more vulnerable without his presence looming somewhere nearby, a privilege she had for so many years enjoyed. He’d gone on another assignment, one she was guilty of giving him, of ordering the Freyja warriors to withdraw and making sure none left Freyja lands. She had also given the location of her wedding to select attendants and divulged some of what she and Marquis had discussed recently to those who were to make preparations.

From the few who met Marquis beforehand, Faeana had drawn oaths and made sure their frey cats were present so no one else would notice anything amiss in the frey cats’ behavior. They were the most loyal she could think of, the least ever to break their word. When they met him face-to-face, she saw their checked recoil, but as she’d hoped, they did as she asked. Marquis had remembered his Freyja manners well, but he was ill at ease around so many reserved Freyja whose intentions he could not sense.

Faeana trusted his preparations reluctantly to them and in turn met with hers. Again, she forewent the traditional wedding location. They were to marry among the ruins of the Lora, which set unease among those who attended and warded off those who were not invited directly. But that unease served to disguise that there were Fenrir among the ruins. No doubt they were among Marquis’s most loyal soldiers, because, though she spotted one or two for a moment so brief she thought her eyes had lied, they did not draw their weapons or aim to slay the Freyja.

The courtyard was very beautiful when some of the debris had been cleared away, and it had been decorated with the golds, whites and silvers of the Freyja colors. Rose vines with the reddest of roses bloomed in what had before been a dead landscape, and moss had crept up the trees, and ivy trailed down the walls and arches, blooming white flowers.

Faeana recognized the Lora for what it had been the night Marquis had had his men take her from Freyja land, but so much of it had been transformed, had taken a life of its own when it had been dead and foreboding before.

Among the guests there were several dark-haired Freyja so as to put in her people’s minds not to be alarmed when they saw Marquis. He hadn’t been near his wolf in over a week, so he hadn’t the musty smell of the wild beast, which was an intelligent move that would raise even less suspicion. And he would take and wear the traditional Freyja clothing to disguise himself. Most Freyja wore khaki or a color near it, sometimes darker, sometimes lighter. Her people were most fond of golden and neutral tones.

Faeana didn’t wear dresses often, but it was tradition for a bride to wear a dress, and that was one tradition she could not break even if she wanted to. Her people loved nature, and every traditional dress had sewn into it a pattern of golden leaves that turned to a light green near the hem, and a light blue near the shoulders. It was one of the few dresses meant to display what the Freyja were, as golden circlets twisted over her upper thighs and held back the pale material split over either leg so that her Freyja stripes would be shown. The bride’s dress was also split down the back and tapered with a fine golden chain, and unlike the usual tight braids of the court, the bride’s would be loosely twisted and draped over the shoulders and back.

Weddings were one of the few celebrations where her people were what they were rather than what the world around them had influenced them to be.

About her neck rested a simple silver chain with a red stone, and upon her head was the crown of the Eye, with its ruby resting just above her forehead upon the gold of her hair. She wore her mother’s red-jeweled bracelet as well, the one her father had given to her.

Faeana studied herself in the mirror, keeping her poise but wanting to scream in horror. She was taking Marquis Morganthe as her husband. The man that should have been waiting for her was Patreos, and she’d thrown him aside without his knowledge for a match of convenience, for a political move.