Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Though she was caught, on more than one occasion, yawning.
And also, it appeared her brows drew together (as did her future husband’s, in a much more ominous way) when one of the condemned shouted, “Long live The Rising!” before taking his first step into the tar.
The three final traitors were hung by one ankle from a hastily erected apparatus that looked like a yardarm, but on land.
Their throats were then slit.
There they drained of lifeblood and there they remained, even after that lifeblood was gone, and it was whispered they were to be left there to be fed from by the raven and crow, eagle and falcon, hawk, vulture and owl.
And the Mar-el king had his vengeance away from the sea.
As the King of Firenze had his vengeance as usual.
At the pits.
With his bride at his side appearing bored, but it would prove (as she fell asleep against her king in his arms on the ride home), she was simply tired.
This explained a number of things.
The people of Firenze found this understandable.
She’d had a grueling night.
It would be an exciting, busy day for the populace of Fire City and all its many visitors who had journeyed to the city for a glimpse of their king on the day of his majestic nuptials and the celebrations that would happen after. For they had little time to make their way from the pits to jockey for position along the parade route, up the foothills, into the crags and around the mesa in the Sheeonee Mountains that overlooked the city and the enormity of the glassy, smooth surface of Fire Lake.
Many thought it a great shame their future queen’s neck was stippled with purple, for her gown was resplendent.
Stark white.
Well off the shoulder.
The bodice that cut just above her breasts was decorated in an intricate pattern of gold beads. The sheer white sleeves that fell at the wrists in panels so long, when she was standing, if she didn’t have her arms raised, they trailed the ground, were trimmed also with these beads. And the high waistband under her breasts was also patterned in elaborate gold beading.
The floating train at the back of the gown weighed heavily on the high slit at her left leg, completely exposing that extremity after King Mars spanned her tiny waist with his large hands when he took her from Hephaestus and put her on her gold-sandaled feet.
This before he walked her up the mountain path set everywhere from dust to high branches of trees with bunches of bright red blooms and streaming crimson ribbons.
This path also smoked with burning coils of incense that scented the air amber. This for their Muse god (who would spark creativity, clear-headedness and elevate them). Then there was the scent of rose and cedar, for their Grace god (who commanded love and assisted positive energy). And last, cinnamon, for their Spirit god (who established balance and offered enlightenment).
While watching, from palace to altar, it would be determined by mothers and daughters in a manner that meant in the following days and months a rush on white silk and gold beading was had in the marketplaces. Thus, not dozens, but hundreds of brides wore much the same to their own nuptials.
As many had already worn (or soon would) versions of the red dress Silence of Wodell had worn days before to the parade.
At the end of their marital march, King Mars led his bride to the long panels of crimson and gold silk sheers that were twisted in the high canopies of cedar trees to form an altar above the bride and her groom. They stopped atop a bed of cedar needles that had fallen to the ground naturally and was now entirely covered in red rose petals.
There, only large coils of cedar and rose incense burned in brass plates around them, significantly heightening the smell of cedar in the air, the rose of the pedals they trod on, scenting devotion to Grace and worshiping love, lust and good energy.
As it should be at any wedding.
Silence of Wodell stood at her king’s side in her white and gold gown, her hand held in his pressed to the side of his bared chest (bared, except the leather straps crossing it, of course). Their backs were to their guests and his people. Their gazes were to the trees through which the lake could be seen, the snowy tips of the Sheeonee reflected in its surface.
Her shoulders were covered in the fall of black curls that went to her waist.
The muscles of his broad, brown back were also covered in his thick, dark hair and crossed with his kingly swords that bore rubies and emeralds in their hilts.
The black-robed priest to the Grace intoned in front of them until it was time for their now Relict Queen to approach them with the ebony box of marital chains.