new life. Tobin smiled to herself and glanced up at her lord, remembering their own marriage on the cliffs near Radzyn Keep.
Andrade had ordered Camigwen and Ostvel to come last. “Who desires to marry a Sunrunner, a faradhi who rides on moonlight?” she called out, and Ostvel, with Urival as his sponsor, walked forward across the carpet of flowers.
“I do, my Lady,” the young man said proudly. “I am her Chosen and she is mine.”
“Let her come to you, then.” Andrade replied, smiling.
Camigwen stepped forward shyly, dark and exotic. But the dress she wore was very different from her everyday clothes; Tobin had seen to that. Her gown was the color of very old bronze, embroidered with gold flowers down the panels of the skirt. The small pouch at her waist bulged with Ostvel’s wedding necklet. Sioned walked beside her, wearing a plain russet dress, her emerald ring sparkling where she had laced her fingers with her friend’s. Tobin knew the murmurs through the crowd were not only for the rare public marriage of a faradhi, but for the rumor now current that Sioned was Rohan’s Chosen wife. Stealing a glance at him where he stood with Eltanin and Antalya, Tobin was surprised to find a thin furrow of worry on his forehead. Searching Sioned’s face, she understood why. Where Camigwen glowed, Sioned looked almost fragile, her flaming hair seeming to have drawn all the color from her cheeks and lips. Urival had not said much, but he had mentioned something about drugged wine. Tobin cursed the absent High Prince.
Andrade handfasted the two young people, and Sioned and Urival stepped back. The words that joined a Sunrunner and her Chosen were more elaborate than those for anyone but royalty, for there were vows other than those of marriage to consider. Tobin heard the echo of words Andrade would soon speak over Rohan and Sioned, and saw the girl’s green eyes come to life even though the rest of her seemed frozen.
Ostvel drew the carnelian necklet from a pocket of his tunic and as he fumbled to fasten it around Cami’s slender throat the stones gave off a sultry dark red fire. Not even Eltanin’s sapphires, at which Antalya had gasped, had been as magnificent as this. Cami then stood on tiptoe and clasped a thin gold chain around Ostvel’s neck. It was set with a single large piece of black coral carved in a sunburst pattern—the stone from Gilad, Ostvel’s home, and the symbol of the sun to represent her status as a faradhi.
“As the sun and the moons circle the world of waters,” Andrade chanted, “as the waters circle the lands; as the lands circle the body of the world; so surround and sustain each other. Be as light to each other’s eyes and life-giving water to each other’s souls. Give of the richness of the earth, one to the other. Catch the wind within to sweep away all doubt, all pain, all fear. Be all things within your love.”
She turned to Ostvel, holding up her left hand, palm out, rings sparkling in the morning sun. “In your keeping is a Sunrunner, one who calls Fire and weaves the light. Help her to keep her paths true and unshadowed, free of all hurtful things. You will be the sire of faradh’im. I judge you worthy, Ostvel of Gilad.”
He bent his head and responded, “You honor me with your trust, Lady, as the faradhi does with her love.”
Andrade smiled slightly, and nodded. To Camigwen she said, “You are a Sunrunner and know your work and your vows. To serve, to speak truly, to weave the light across the world in company with your brothers and sisters. To rightly use your knowledge, and never to kill. All these things are impressed on your heart. To you I give this man, to cherish with the Fire of your calling and guard with the strength of our ways. Repose in his heart, and listen to his soul.” She took their clasped hands between hers. “Goddess blessing, all your lives.”
They faced each other, smiling as first gazes met and then lips. Tobin sighed and sniffled a little, and felt Chay shake with silent laughter at her side. “Stop that,” she whispered. “It was lovely.”
“For a princess with a political head on her shoulders, you’re a terrible sentimentalist.”
“Oh, really? And who is it who always remembers to wear his own wedding necklet to these ceremonies?”
“Well. . . .” Caught out, he shrugged, his cheeks suddenly