Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,16
will go smoothly, I’m sure of it.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“In many ways it is, Catherine.”
She tried to imagine him as a rebellious young man. She failed. “Were you scared, when you went over the top in the war?”
He looked down at the carriage floor. “I was more angry than afraid.”
“With the top brass?”
“No, my father.”
Cathy frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“He Charmed me before I left. I didn’t know about it until I first saw action. Made it impossible for me to be killed by bullets or small pieces of shrapnel. Of course, if I’d stepped on a mine, I’d have been done for, but it still did enough.”
“I didn’t think Charms like that existed.”
“It was very powerful. He almost bankrupted the family and had to make a terribly serious bargain with Lord Poppy to get it.”
“Why were you angry though? Surely it made it all a lot less scary.”
He shook his head, he looked so saddened by her question. “It deprived me of true bravery. All of my men faced death with such courage, but I knew it was very unlikely I’d die out there. I felt like a fraud.”
“So I suppose forcing me to marry someone is nothing compared to ordering men to their deaths.”
“We all have our duties, Catherine. For some it is to fight and die for their country. For you it is to marry a man and guarantee our prosperity in Aquae Sulis and the favour of our patron.”
What could she say to that? She kept her silence, exploring the world through her father’s eyes. Finally, she really understood why he’d been so exasperated with her. “I’m sorry I’m not what you wanted me to be,” she said, feeling the carriage slow down.
“Thank you.” For the first time she could remember, he smiled at her. It made him look like a different man. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to talk to you sooner. We’re here. Hold your head up high, you look beautiful. And remember you’ll always have Papaver blood, even when you have the Iris name.”
She looked up, hoping the tears would spread out rather than fall. Her father reached across and pulled the veil back over her face as the carriage door was opened. He stepped out but she couldn’t move.
She’d been to the Oak once before as a guest of a distant cousin’s wedding. Cathy wondered if it was really as spectacular as she remembered. The tree was one of the oldest oaks in England and existed in Mundanus, the Nether and Exilium. As far as she knew, that was unique. In the Nether, a grand structure had been built around it where all of the marriages in the Great Families took place. In her memory it was cavernous and intimidating.
Father held out his hand to her and she knew this was it. She wondered whether tripping and gashing her face open or breaking her ankle would be enough to force postponement. When his hand clasped hers and he guided her firmly she realised the silliness of the idea.
The pale stone building was on the scale of a majestic cathedral but with an organic quality, like it had grown rather than been built. There were no visible joints between stone blocks; the Gothic archway door and the building around it appeared to have been shaped out of a single piece of stone. Only powerful Fae magic could make something so impossibly beautiful.
The doors were open. Cathy could hear something calm and lilting being played by a string quartet. In the silence of the Nether, and with the acoustics of the cavernous space, the murmur of the waiting guests also floated outside.
Her mother’s carriage had arrived. She and Elizabeth emerged and the bridesmaid dress was duly fussed over. When they came over, their startled expressions told Cathy the faerie had done something noticeable at least.
“Oh, Catherine,” her mother said. Was her expression… pride? Cathy couldn’t be certain; she’d never seen it before. Glancing at Father, Mother asked “Did you…?”
“Lord Poppy sent a gift ahead,” he replied. “I understand he and Lord Iris are inside.”
“I think I shall faint,” Elizabeth gasped.
“Don’t be absurd.” Mother gave Elizabeth a hard stare. “No dramatics today, Elizabeth. This is Catherine’s day – yours will come soon enough.”
“Oh, God,” Cathy whispered as she saw Lord Poppy emerge, the faerie flitting about excitedly next to him.
Upon sighting her he clasped his hands theatrically over his heart and she saw a glittering tear roll down his cheek. “That’s exactly what I wanted,”