Death and the Emperor

Book 1 Chapter VI: A Fine Mess

"The horror of that moment," the King went on, "I shall never never forget!"
"You will, though," the Queen said, "if you don't make a memorandum of it." -- Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There

Death's bizarre proposal occupied so much of Kilan's thoughts that he forgot entirely about the accusation she'd made against his fiancée until the day came for him to finally meet the Duchess.

Duchess Yse of Odgeiros was, he supposed, an attractive woman. Her blonde hair, a rare sight in the Carann Empire, was brushed until it shone, and she was impeccably dressed. She was polite, and talked enough to fill the frequent awkward gaps in the conversation when Kilan was unsure of what to say. The only problem was, she seemed to be too eager to make herself pleasant. He couldn't put his finger on what it was about her, but there was something that set alarm bells ringing. Without meaning to, his thoughts returned to Death's visit and the words, "The Duchess of Odgeiros is involved in smuggling."

It didn't matter even if she was, he tried to assure himself. They weren't marrying for love, and as long as she didn't drag him into anything illegal he could turn a blind eye to crimes she might possibly be committing.

The wedding date was set and preparations were well underway when disaster struck. In later years, Kilan would look back and try to think of something, anything he could have done differently. He could have not rehearsed his vows in what he thought was the privacy of his own room, he supposed, but even then Death might have found a way to throw a spanner in the works. What Death wanted, Death got. He learnt that to the cost of himself and a good many other people.

It began when, idiot that he was, he decided to rehearse his vows before going to bed. Marin had regaled him at dinnertime with stories of relatives who made hilarious, strange or just plain embarrassing mistakes during their wedding ceremonies. Kilan had left the dinner table with an unshakable conviction that he would not be another Great-great-great-Grandmother Nyènroy, who had forgotten her soon-to-be husband's name and referred to him as "what's-his-name" in front of all the guests, or another Great-Uncle Raoch, who had forgotten his vows in the middle of the ceremony and had to ask the priest to stop while the best man wrote out what he was supposed to say.

Feeling rather foolish, Kilan stood in front of his bedroom mirror and began to recite his vows. He got through most of them without incident. The trouble came when he reached the final lines.

"I, Grand Duke Kilan raunSærnor, ursoArásy chlang-il-Amendath-ag-Caranilnav tar Zjurkyu--" He couldn't help grimacing at his nightmarish surname, and made a mental note to be sure not to do that during the actual ceremony, "--hereby take you to be my lawfully wedded wife. Do you agree?"

"I do," said a voice at his ear.

Afterwards, Kilan would never admit how loudly he screamed.

"You!"

"Me," Death agreed. "I'm glad you changed your mind. I thought you would, but it's so hard to be sure with mortals."

"Changed my mind?" Kilan repeated blankly. "What are you talking about? Changed my mind about what?"

"Our marriage." Death looked as baffled as Kilan felt.

"Wha--?" Kilan stared at her, replaying those two words over and over in an attempt to make sense of them. "I haven't changed my mind on that. I can't marry you even if I wanted to. I've promised to marry Yse."

Death's eyebrows shot up. A wide and maliciously amused grin split her face in two. "Oh dear. What a pity, then, that you've just married me."

"That isn't funny," Kilan grumbled. "Have you nothing better to do than show up in my room to play a joke on me?"