in character, regarding me with an affectionate smile as though we’d known each other for years. In the silence that followed, I realized we were supposed to speak.
“Aye.” My voice came out scratchy, thick. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Aye.” It was an easy thing to promise, after all. I may not like the guy much, but honor and respect? I could give him that. I knew how important this Faire was to him, and even though he got on my nerves I certainly didn’t want to do anything to make his life harder.
“Aye.” His response was firm, casual, almost amused. Did pirates honor and respect anyone but themselves? Gold, maybe? Rum? I made a mental note to ask him later.
“And so the first binding is made.” The lady-in-waiting in front of each of us couples wound a golden cord around our joined hands, tying them together loosely. I could pull my hand out of his easily and break the connection. I should want to do that. But I didn’t move.
“Will you share each other’s pain, and seek to ease it?”
“Ummm.” I glanced up at him again, but he immediately answered with a firm “aye,” and so I did the same. Again, this wasn’t such a terrible thing to promise, was it? That was a normal thing any nice person would do. Share pain, seek to ease it. I thought about the day I’d run into Simon here in the woods, the pain on his face. The memorial to his brother. I hadn’t talked to him about that, told him Chris had filled me in a little on his past. Maybe I should.
“And so the second binding is made.” Another loop around our hands, and he tightened his hand a little around mine. I squeezed back, but I had no idea why. In this moment, I felt closer to this guy dressed as a pirate than I’d ever felt to Jake. And I’d dropped out of college for Jake. I’d worked two jobs while Jake went to law school.
“Will you share the burdens of each, so your spirits may grow in this union?”
Sure, my smart-assed self wanted to respond. Why not. But it was a defense mechanism. This was getting more personal now. I couldn’t laugh this off as something I’d promise any guy on the street. Now our union was being brought into this. My union. With a guy wearing leather pants who I barely knew and didn’t really like. But he agreed with an “aye,” his voice solid and sure, and what kind of asshole would I be if I didn’t do the same?
“And so the third binding is made.” Another loop. We were well and truly bound together now, the gold cord practically covering our hands up to our wrists. Pulling away from him would prove difficult, so I didn’t even consider it. Worse, I didn’t want to consider it.
“Bride and Groom, as your hands are bound together now”—the Queen took her time and looked at each of us joined couples—“so your lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust.” Mitch smirked and his girl barely stifled a giggle; I kind of wanted to kick them for not taking this seriously.
“Above you are the stars and below you is the earth.” The two sets of plain-dressed patrons in between us only had eyes for each other, and when I looked at them I could see how affecting this ceremony could be for people who were deeply in love. Were they remembering their own weddings? Were these vows a reaffirmation?
“Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth, a firm foundation from which to grow.”
Then there was Simon and me. Captain Ian Blackthorne the pirate and Emma the tavern wench. The words were beautiful, but man, were they wasted on us.
“You are hereby bound for a year and a day,” the Queen proclaimed. “At the end of this time, should you wish to remain so bound, you must appear before me and state your intention to remain so. Otherwise, at the end of that time you may go your separate ways.”
In character, I nodded solemnly at this, but I also wondered how we—or any of the patrons—were going to be held to this. Were we supposed to mark a calendar? Buy a ticket for next year and hope Chris was playing the Queen again?
I was probably overthinking it. This was a fun tourist activity that