The orc was in ceremonial garb, too—or, at least, what Taegan assumed was ceremonial garb for orcs. He was shirtless but wore a fine bear fur cape around his shoulders that went down to his waist, tight breeches and leather boots. His hair, which had been pulled into a high ponytail when Taegan had first seen him, was now loose with a few braids similar to his own that fell just past his shoulders. But the most striking feature was the war paint adorning his body and his face; a vivid blue that stood out in stark contrast to his grayish-green skin. The paint brought attention to his yellow eyes, making them appear a vibrant golden color, and created a series of symbols from his collarbone to his hips, though Taegan did not know what they meant.
Their formal wear could not be more different, he thought—yet there was something striking about Zorvut’s appearance, some sort of fiercely powerful air that Taegan found alluring despite himself.
“To all who have joined us today, we thank you,” the priest began, pulling Taegan from his thoughts. “I am Estalar Yeloris, high priest of the elder tree temple. And the two we join today need no introduction, I am sure. But with this ceremony, Prince Taegan Glynzeiros and Zorvut Bonebreaker the Relentless will be joined in marriage, a first for our communities. May their union symbolize continued peace between our nations.”
A quiet murmur of agreement spread through the small crowd. Taegan could feel Zorvut glancing over at him, but he kept his gaze trained on Estalar, who somehow still had a bored expression as if this were any routine, average wedding.
“Is there any objection to the ceremony?” the priest asked, and for a brief, terrible moment Taegan had a vision of Kelvhan storming in and ruining everything—luckily, when he snuck a quick glance around the crowd, the other elf was nowhere to be found.
No one responded to Estalar’s invitation, so he continued, “Then we gather here beneath our elder tree, before each other and the gods, to join these two. Since time immemorial, elves have stood beneath these trees to bind themselves to each other in marriage. The gods have smiled down upon us, that any elf may marry another as an equal and continue our lineage. In exchange for pledging ourselves to one another, the gods give us what is perhaps our greatest gift—our mental bond, formed through ancient magic, so that we are bound not only in word and in heart, but in mind as well.”
Taegan could sense Zorvut shift slightly at that, likely in discomfort or surprise. The marriage bond between elves was not necessarily a secret, but neither was it common knowledge—it was entirely possible Zorvut had never heard of this aspect of elven marriage.
“First,” the priest continued in the same monotone voice. “Prince Taegan, if you would give your vows to Zorvut.”
Taegan took in a long, steadying breath before glancing over at the orc. It was the first time they had really looked at each other as their eyes met—and as he spoke, he realized it was the first time he had addressed the other man as well.
“Zorvut,” he said evenly, willing his face to remain cool and expressionless. “This day, I pledge to improve the lives of every elf and every orc in our nations. I will treat you with the respect and honor you deserve. I will support you in your personal endeavors, and guide you in our royal duties as we learn to join our nations together. My heart will be tender toward you and yours, and I will remain faithful to you, my husband. This, I vow to you before the gods and our people.”
Zorvut’s face was hard to read, but his expression softened somewhat as Taegan spoke to him. While he knew nothing of his betrothed, Taegan had mulled over his vows for several days leading up to the wedding, and Zorvut seemed to recognize the effort he had put into them.
“Do you find these vows sufficient, Zorvut?” the priest asked, and Zorvut nodded.
“Yes,” he said—though his voice was gravelly and deep, it was softer than Taegan had expected, and he realized that this, now, was the first time he had heard the orc speak.
“And Zorvut, if you would give your vows to Prince Taegan.”
“Taegan,” he started slowly, glancing away briefly before meeting Taegan’s gaze again. “I vow to be your protector, defender, and greatest supporter. I vow to learn from you to be a good prince, and a good... husband. I vow to give you no cause for distrust, and I vow that our union will remain strong, both between us and between our nations.” He paused, then added quickly to echo Taegan, “This, I vow to you before the gods and our people.”
“Do you find these vows sufficient, Taegan?”
“Yes,” Taegan replied, as they were certainly more eloquent than he would have expected.
“Then please, join hands so I may bind you,” the priest said. Taegan extended his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Zorvut followed suit. His hand was easily twice the size of Taegan’s, so although they grasped hands, it was more like Taegan holding his fingers. Estalar reached out both of his hands, placing one on each of their wrists, and whispered in elvish.
Taegan had heard the ceremonial incantation many times before, but the sensation of it was unexpected. He could feel heat emanating from where the priest grasped his wrist up his arm, through his shoulder and his chest, pulsing in his heart and spreading rapidly to the rest of his body. It soon faded, except for a pinpoint of warmth near the back of his head. With a final declaration, Estalar pulled his hands away from them, a small glimmer of magical sparks following, and the pinprick of heat blossomed into a painful burn for one unbearable instant—Taegan squeezed his eyes shut—then quickly settled to a more comfortably warm sensation.
For a moment, it did not feel as though anything had happened, but then he could feel confusion and uncertainty emanating from that spot in the back of his head—not his own, but Zorvut’s. He took in a long, steadying breath, focusing on the calmness he was trying to hold on to, and Zorvut met his gaze with surprise as the anxiety from his end of the bond settled to a low simmer. It was a strange sensation, but he was sure it must be much stranger to Zorvut; after all, Taegan had wondered since childhood what it might be like to have someone else in his head, while Zorvut would have had all of perhaps two minutes to consider it before having it thrust upon him. Taegan almost felt pity for him, though he quickly reined himself in, hopefully before Zorvut could sense it. It was going to take some getting used to.
“It is done,” Estalar declared. “The gods have looked upon this union and smiled in approval. I present to you now, Princes Taegan and Zorvut. May their marriage guide us into an era of peace.”
A smattering of applause spread through the small crowd, though Taegan barely registered it. Hands still joined, they turned to face the crowd, and he looked over at his father. King Ruven had a tight-lipped smile. In contrast, Hrul and the other orcs had wide grins and were shouting and cheering.
“We celebrate!” Hrul declared, and King Ruven nodded.
“We will have drinks in the courtyard,” he agreed, and gestured for the couple to lead the way. Taegan stepped down from the small platform in front of the elder tree, and Zorvut followed him. He tightened his grip on the other man’s much larger hand as they walked, and after a moment, Zorvut very gently squeezed his hand in response.
Chapter Two
Taeganmanagedonlyasingle goblet of honey-wine in the courtyard before the polite conversation expected of him became unbearable. He was sure Zorvut could sense his exhaustion and irritation, and in turn he could feel Zorvut’s trepidation as clearly as if it were his own.
“Father,” he muttered, when one of the visiting nobles stepped away from King Ruven, but before another had a chance to take his place. “I think we shall retire now.”
“It’s still early in the evening,” the king remarked, but upon meeting Taegan’s gaze seemed to note the pained expression on his face. “But it has been a long day, to be sure. Not to worry. I will continue to entertain our guests. Get some rest.” Taegan nodded gratefully, then turned to Zorvut.
“I will show you the way to my quarters. Our quarters,” he said, correcting himself quickly, and Zorvut nodded in agreement. Though he tried to leave without drawing attention to themselves, as soon as they moved toward the entrance to the castle, a raucous cheer rose up from the orcish side of the party. Taegan knew little orcish, but felt quite certain that the word forconsummatewas somewhere in the din, and the sudden embarrassment radiating from Zorvut despite his stony expression was more than enough to confirm.
“Thank you for your presence here tonight,” Taegan said hurriedly as it became apparent their exit was noticed. “This is a historic moment, to be sure. Please, excuse us. My husband and I will see you all again tomorrow, I’m certain.” Luckily, he had practiced enough to not trip over the phrasemy husband,though a slight thrill of surprise and something like excitement rose up from Zorvut when he said it. His emotions were just similar enough that Taegan could name them, but still felt distinctly different from his own, and he wondered how foreign his own feelings might be to Zorvut.
