Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,21

as long as you live.”

He slid it on easily, despite the clamminess, and she thought for a moment that it was far too large. She enjoyed the thought of being able to lose it easily. But when it reached the base of the finger, it tightened into a snug fit and gave off such a pulse of magic that she physically jolted. As she stared at it, the ring paled and took on a golden sheen.

Then the other ring was being held out to her for William. “With this ring, I thee wed. Let it be a reminder of your vows to me as long as you live.” He didn’t shudder when it shrank.

The Papaver Patroon stepped back and let Sir Iris take the centre. “I now declare you man and wife.”

The hall was filled with polite applause. William lifted her veil and smiled at her, leaning in for a kiss. She stood rigid as his lips brushed hers. They were soft and he smelt of peppermint.

Imogen waited patiently, holding a new bouquet of brilliant blue irises. “Welcome to the Reticulata-Iris family,” she said with a false smile and thrust it towards her.

After she took the flowers William extended his arm to her. When she just stood there, too dumbstruck to move, he gently took her free hand, tucked it in place and they set off back down the aisle as the congregation stood, still applauding.

Soon the din was behind them and they emerged into the Nether. “Are you all right?” William asked quietly, feeling her violent trembling.

Cathy couldn’t form words in any sensible order. She felt like she wanted to cry and throw up and faint all at the same time. He gently wiped the tears from one cheek and she flinched. “Don’t do that,” she said, disturbed by the intimacy of the gesture.

“I’m sorry. I just want you to feel better.”

“I hardly think you’re the one able to do that,” she snapped and then the attendants were offering congratulations and all she wanted to do was push them away and run.

William used the opportunity to back off from her for a few moments, long enough for her to feel guilty. He’d been forced as much as her, he just dealt with it better. She reached for his hand and when he came closer she whispered, “I’m sorry,” in his ear.

“Could I have a moment with my wife?” he asked, eliciting excited commentary on the first use of the word. He drew her away. “Thank you. We need to just get through today, all right? Just smile and nod, it’ll pass, then we’ll talk tonight.”

The conjugal night. Her stomach flipped unpleasantly. “I’ll try,” she said.

“You really do look wonderful, Catherine,” he said. “I want to try to make the best of this. I hope you will too.”

She couldn’t stop the tears. He turned her so her back was to the emerging guests, saying soothing nonsense whilst she sobbed as quietly as she could.

“Catherine, I’m sorry, but there’s an Iris tradition we must observe now. You need to speak in private with my mother, before we can go in for the reception. She’s waiting for you.”

Cathy turned to see her new mother-in-law waiting nearby, holding a small gift-wrapped package. “I don’t want her to see I’ve been crying.”

“You’re not the first bride to cry afterwards,” he said. “She’s harmless, go on.”

Cathy walked unsteadily towards her. William’s mother was smiling, but didn’t exactly look happy. She had the demeanour of someone waiting to inform a relative of an accident, rather than give a gift to a new daughter-in-law. Cathy realised it probably wasn’t far from the truth. She certainly felt the need for commiseration more than congratulations.

“Hello, Catherine. Come with me.”

Cathy was led to a nearby building where the reception would be taking place. It was in the same style as the Oak’s hall but on a smaller scale. They entered through a side door and went straight into a small room with two chairs and a table where tea was already laid out.

“Sit down,” her mother-in-law said.

Cathy did so, wondering whether her makeup was magical enough to have not ended up in rivulets down her cheeks.

“Tea? I suggest you take some now, whilst you can.”

Cathy nodded, worried that if she spoke her voice would crack. William’s mother had the same eyes as her son and a quiet grace. She looked less than five years older than her. It was strange to think she’d borne children and been married longer than