Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

41. A Glimpse of Spring

My second wedding smelled of pine needles.

I didn't marry Ondrey the day after the mourning rituals had concluded, the way I wanted to. The newly generous citizens of Ratne insisted it would be auspicious to say the vows during the Winter Solstice festivities. It remained unsaid that the Winter Solstice came a week after teeth-gnashing Holga led her disgruntled band down the icy road pointing East. In the end, I was glad of it, because once Tverizh' occupation of Ratne had ended, it was like the air cleared up. The ghosts of the past were buried. People recalled happier memories, poured the drinks of remembrance and laughed more. The souls of their loved ones were being reborn... perhaps one of them found her way to the child growing under my heart.

Yes, it was good that we waited till the Winter Solstice, even though I started the day queasy and the smell of pine resin nigh made me throw up on my gorgeous groom.

Pine wasn't the only decoration. Phedoxia wasted two weeks and a bucket of potions to force a dozen snowdrops into bloom. According to her, without the flower toss, the ceremony stood no chance to please the Divines. Miccola gave her a dirty look--and the crone bit her tongue before adding anything about blessing Ondrey's and my union with many daughters.

Naturally, Ratne's resident High Scribe decorated everything in sight with the pine boughs. She grumbled that the newlyweds in the North had cooped just fine before Phedoxia's novelty spell.

No argument there! The evergreens were second only to snow in their ready availability during Tverizhian winter. So, the children raced to harvest fragrant armfuls, their cheeks painted pink with chill. It didn't bother them in the slightest. I prayed that my daughter would be born equally robust!

Today, the arch under which we stood, the walls, the floors--everything bristled with long green needles. Except for the wedding crowns they held over Ondrey's and mine heads. Those were golden and set with dark-red garnets for fecundity. Miccola scowled again when the symbolism was explained to her.

Ever stubborn, Phedoxia still tossed the tiny white blossoms over us from her basket. One of the broken white bells caught in my cleavage and looked so pitiful, that upon peeling it from my skin, Ondrey stuffed it into the book for safekeeping. There it lay, until it dried between the pages speaking of the different scouting strategies a savvy commander must employ. Till this day, I cannot help but smile when the book opens up on it...

Fecundity and all the prerequisites to it, wasn't on my mind after the wedding. What with securing the town, taking stock of the provisions, counting the loot we had captured with the Princess Granda's train, throwing up and the tribulations of the new love.

But on the night of the Winter Solstice, the longest of the long winter nights, I danced heart to heart with my groom. It was a short moment of bliss.

***

Come spring, certain inconveniences of pregnancy caught up to me even more.

By the time the ice broke on the River Dreven, and we climbed the ramparts of Ratne to watch this barbaric and awesome sight, I could no longer stand comfortably heart to heart with Ondrey. The baby under my heart robbed me of my breath. So I leaned against Ondrey instead, settling the back of my head on his chest and pulled the air in gasps. His arms crossed below my breasts, binding all three of us together.

Before us the sheets of ice rushed on the swelling water, rolling over one another with deafening claps. New cracks opened up, tearing the bigger ice plates into smaller ones. Out of them gushed more water. It made sense—all that was once snow now became water, and I had seen infinite amounts of snow.

"So, this is spring?" I asked Ondrey when the crashing and screeching dropped down to a deafening moment of near silence.

"Yes," he breathed into my ear. "This is spring."