“I knew Isla for five years before pursuing her.”
Ilain rolled her eyes but made no argument.
Vayden turned back to the archminister. “I’m not against the marriage,” he restated. “I simply question the validity of their immediate nuptials.”
Fishere raised his hand to appease him. “This would be a betrothal, Vayden. Breakable if deemed necessary by either party. A marriage ceremony would not take place until the end of a year or the establishment of Allund, whichever comes first.”
That appeared to satisfy Vayden. “In that case,” he said. “I can offer my support.”
Ilain released a relieved breath.
Fishere turned to Auden. “Highlord Calder, what is your view of this marriage?”
Auden set a hand on Ilain’s shoulder. “I’m in full favor of it. If Ilain is to marry a Warrior, then by all means, let it be Ethenn. He’s respectable, competent, and dutiful. I could not ask for a better man to love my sister or stand at her side as the head of the Order of the Flame.”
Though Deckard wasn’t sure what heading the Order would entail, he couldn’t fault Auden’s statement. Ethenn was a trustworthy, hardworking soldier. He’d proven himself to Deckard many times over. He was a good man and would no doubt be a tender, faithful husband. But despite the young man’saffections, Deckard wasn’t sure that Ilain Calder was the right woman for him. She was brash, overzealous, and intense. He was reserved, contained, and stoic. They seemed to be opposites. And though some might see the stark variances between Deckard and Evylin, at the core of their beings, they were quite a bit alike. They valued the same things and dreamed of the same future. Did Ilain and Ethenn share anything in common?
“Thank you, Highlord Calder,” Fishere said, then looked at Deckard. “Colonel Deckard, as the corporal’s only advocate, I am anxious to hear your opinion on the matter. What is your view of this marriage?”
Even given the flurry of his thoughts, Deckard didn’t feel decided on an answer. “I fear I am not qualified to share my opinion, sir,” he admitted. “But as Ethenn has requested, I will do my best to remain an objective adviser.”
Deckard looked at the young man—standing at his side, listening raptly—and then at Ilain—sitting with her usual proud posture. Were they a viable pair? Was this all a mistake? Surely, that’s what others would have said of his and Evylin’s union, and yet he wouldn’t go back to alter his choice even if he could.
With a sigh, Deckard made his decision. “I married Evylin after three days of knowing her. We were strangers, we weren’t in love, and she didn’t even know my given name.” He found himself laughing derisively at the fact. “And it is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He met Ethenn and Ilain’s eyes with intention. “It is also the hardest experience of my life,” he said. “I can’t tell you if this marriage is the right choice or if it is a grave mistake. What I can tell you is that it will be difficult. You know one another better than Evylin and I did, but you are also very different people from either one of us. From each other.
“Ethenn,” he set a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “I do not doubt your regard and admiration for Ilain. She is a womanworthy of love. However, I do question if you understand the strain that a one-sided affection places on a marriage. It is not easily forgotten nor easily borne. Moreover, you and Ilain... There’s a discrepancy between you two beyond your age.”
Deckard faced Ilain then. “You are strong, my lady. You are impassioned, driven, and immensely powerful. I hardly comprehend your intelligence at times. But I fear you lack the tenderness and attachment to be the wife Ethenn deserves, as I fear he lacks the intensity and shrewdness that you require.”
A slow, wry grin spread over Ilain’s face even as Ethenn dipped his head, considering Deckard’s words.
Deckard turned back to the archminister. “My final view, sir, is this: I do not know that Ethenn and Ilain are ideal partners nor that they will truly make one another happy. What I don’t doubt is that they will give their all to their marriage and their country, and despite whatever trials they face, they will face them together. So if this is the path they wish to take...I will do my best to support them in whatever way I can.”
At Deckard’s conclusion, Ethenn raised his chin as though accepting his officer’s orders. Vayden wore an impressed expression, while Auden’s brows were drawn together in thought. Ilain’s grin was still in place, though her steady gaze made it clear she took Deckard’s charge seriously.
And the archminister let out a meager “hm” before drawing a deep breath. “Thank you, Colonel,” he said. “With each of your inputs, I believe I have the means to make my decision.”
He picked up a pen from the desk and dipped it into an inkwell. “As Archminister of Wauld’s Administration, I am happy to approve the betrothal of Highlady Calder and Corporal Loxley, the ceremony of their marriage deferred a year’s time or until the establishment of Allund, whichever comes first.” He paused to scratch a few words across the paper before him. Thenhe looked up at Ethenn and Ilain. “Shall we commence with the rite of betrothal?”
“The . . . what?” Ethenn asked.
Fishere repeated himself.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Ethenn said. “Are we not just . . . engaged?”
The archminister and the Calders all looked confused, so Deckard spoke. “In Ephria, once the proposal is accepted and approved, the couple is simply promised to be married until such a time that the ceremony can be performed,” he explained.
“Ah.” Fishere made another note on the page. “Well, in Wauld, we have betrothals. It’s a long-maintained tradition, as Wauld no longer holds any Allorian kirks, and the traveling clergy are often unable to marry couples until such a time as they arrive. Due to this, marriages in Wauld are less...formal due to the lack of monotheism.”
“Most simply put forth their request to their liege lord,” Vayden added, “who then approves or denies the appeal, and the marriage is considered legal.”
“Being Allorians,” Fishere said, “we in the Alliance maintain the rite of betrothal.”
Deckard and Ethenn shared a look but stayed silent with no reason to object to this country’s foreign traditions.
Fishere turned the page and pushed it to the other side of the desk. “Corporal,” he said, holding out the pen. “If you would come sign here....”
