Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
She clings to my wet chest and gazes up at me with dark, aching eyes. “Please tell me this isn’t you misspeaking. Tell me the truth, Ranan. I can handle it, I swear.”
Exasperated, I roll forward and grab her in all four of my arms, holding her tight. My leg throbs and aches, but I ignore it so I can look her in the eye. “Woman, I am going to drag you in front of my people and marry you because I love you. Will you be my bride, Vali? My wife?”
She squeals and flings her arms around my neck.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
VALI
My wedding day is a magical one. Even though I have yet to give Lord Vor his fish, it feels as if the gods are smiling down upon myself and Ranan. The weather is beautiful, the sun shining and a light breeze making the warmth pleasant. Ranan’s mother Ajinai is in our tent with me. I’ve placed my tiara in my hair and woven the ribbons Ranan gave me through my curls. Ajinai helps me dress in the traditional garb of a woman of the seakind—several long, thick necklaces made of shells and pearls, and a long, pearl-lined wrap skirt made of fish leather. She has made these garments in anticipation of Ranan’s future bride, and so they’re all a bit oversized. The skirt is so long it drags on the ground behind me, made for a much taller woman. I don’t care. Ajinai looks at me with approval and happiness, and I feel beautiful.
“You will keep these,” she says to me. “Use them as an example so you can make them for your daughter when she is old enough.”
I’m not sure if we’ll want children, but I like that this is mine to keep. I give her the cobweb of gold collar because I’ll never wear it, and she smiles with radiant happiness, immediately putting it on.
Now we’re both adorned for my wedding, and I feel a little closer to Ranan’s mother.
We emerge from the tent to the gathered flotilla’s occupants, and everyone looks happy to see us. I don’t even mind that I’m topless under the necklaces—I feel like I fit in. Ranan devours me with a hot look as I come to his side, and a few steps away, his father stands behind him. Lakos has never said two words to me, his expression as impossible to read as Ranan’s. Lakos says he’s shy and suffers from the same tongue-twisting his son does, so he rarely speaks in the presence of others. Today he gives me a small nod of approval as I put my hand in Ranan’s.
And then I stop looking at the crowd and pay attention to my bridegroom, because he looks magnificent. There are no bandages on his leg, only an ugly, jagged, bright-pink scar. He leans on a crutch that has been decorated for the ceremony, and he wears several necklaces that match mine. Instead of a wrap at his hips, though, he wears a slender fish-leather loincloth decorated with seashells. His skin has been rubbed with oil and he gleams in the sunlight, all gorgeous muscles and shining skin. More attractive than any of that is the smile that curves his mouth as he looks down at me, his expression flicking between happiness and possessiveness.
I could float away with the joy I’m feeling right now.
I put both of my hands in his, and since I only have two of them, he double-holds each one. As tradition dictates, the priest of Belara is bribed with a pouch of money, and then the vows are said. I practically float when Ranan declares to honor me as his bride for all eternity, as is tradition. But then he adds another line that takes my breath away. He looks me in the eye, his thumb skating over the back of my hand. “My Vali. You have always said that you want to belong, that you never have a home. But I need you to know that your home is with me, at my side. Your place is in my arms. You are my home, and I hope I am yours.”
I lift our joined hands and kiss his knuckles, tears of happiness threatening to brim over.
“In the eyes of the gods, you are now joined,” the priest says.
Ranan pulls me close, no doubt for a chaste kiss. I fling my arms around his neck and press my lips to his, eager to show him just how much love I have to give.
He lifts me off my feet, ignoring my squeal. “Your leg!”
“I’m not lifting you with my leg,” he says, and kisses me harder.
To the sounds of laughter and cheering, he carries me across the flotilla and back into the tent that is set up for our wedding celebration. He limps a little, but my protests are forgotten as we kiss, and kiss, and kiss. As is tradition with the seakind, the new couple feasts in private and emerges the next day at dawn to present another offering to Belara and the rest of the gods. I’m less interested in feasting and far, far more interested in touching my new husband.