Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,20
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The other elderly gentleman was presumably Sir Iris. He stood on the right, wearing an iris-blue waistcoat with his morning suit. He was taller and more imperious, with something of the hawk about his features, and he looked at her with undisguised surprise. No doubt he’d been warned to expect some plain Jane.
He was standing in front of William, who was now turning to face her. His smile was warm and his surprise was more subtle.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” Sir Papaver asked.
“I, Charles Rhoeas-Papaver of Aquae Sulis, give Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver to be married to this man.” Her father’s voice was loud and strong.
“And do you vouch for her virtue in front of these witnesses?”
“I do.”
Elizabeth took Cathy’s poppy bouquet. Father relaxed his arm, and as her hand slid free he took it and passed it to the Patroon, who held it tightly, as if expecting her to run back down the aisle. With a small bow her father discharged his last duty and went to sit next to her mother.
The Patroon’s hand was cool and dry, while hers trembled in clammy horror.
“Who gives this man to be married to this woman?” Sir Iris asked.
“I, George Reticulata-Iris of Aquae Sulis, give William Reticulata-Iris to be married to this woman.”
Cathy hadn’t even noticed William’s father standing beside him. He bowed and sat down. Evidently it isn’t necessary to prove the man’s virtue, Cathy thought.
“Do you, Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver…” Sir Iris said, making her jump. Now she was facing the Patroon she could see Lord Iris and his striking white hair in her peripheral vision. She felt his scrutiny acutely. “…take William Reticulata-Iris to be your husband in accordance with the wishes of your family and patron?”
The moment stretched as her heartbeat became a thunderous roar in her ears. The insistent prickling at her throat faded into the background as she looked at William and tried to imagine him kissing her, touching her and expecting more than she was willing to give. She could see a white blob reflected in his dark-brown eyes and found it so hard to comprehend on a deep level that this was actually happening to her. After all she had done, after all she had tried to do, she’d failed.
But she still couldn’t say the words. The pain at her throat increased and even William’s studied serenity was showing signs of cracking.
But there was nothing to be done, and she suspected that if she didn’t answer, Lord Poppy would take her over. She’d heard the Fae could do that. No doubt that was another reason behind the necklace. They’re only words, she thought, trying to dilute the significance of it all. I don’t mean them, they’re just words.
“I do,” she croaked, another tear breaking free.
She could hear her mother’s sigh behind her and a rustling amongst the crowd accompanied the collective relief.
“Then repeat after me,” Sir Iris said, glaring at her, “I do faithfully promise…”
“I do faithfully promise…”
“To honour and obey my husband in all things.”
They stuck in her throat but she forced them out. Just words.
“To forsake all others and to bear my husband’s children…”
Just words.
“And to strive to please my husband and my new family till death do us part.”
The tears were rolling freely now. William was trying his best to look encouraging.
“Do you, William Reticulata-Iris, take Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver to be your wife, in accordance with the wishes of your family and patron?” said Sir Papaver.
“I do.” Not a hint of reluctance. He was an extraordinarily good liar. She needed to remember that.
“Then repeat after me. I do faithfully promise to protect my wife, provide for her comfort and defend her honour, until death do us part.”
He repeated it in one go and Cathy seethed. She’d pseudo-promised to bear children and give up her life altogether and all he had to do was ensure she had somewhere to live and duel anyone who badmouthed her.
The Patroons turned their backs and looked up at the tree. Two faeries burst out from the canopy, each holding a ring made of oak. As she watched them being dropped into the Patroons’ hands Cathy couldn’t recall ever seeing wooden wedding rings in Society.
Sir Papaver gave a ring to William, who took her left hand gently, waited for her fist to unclench and then held it at the tip of her finger.
Following the Patroon’s guidance, he repeated, “With this ring, I thee wed. Let it be a reminder of your vows to me and my family