by Damien Allmark
in Issue 100, May 2020
“Soldier Katrielle Collier, step forward,” bellowed Captain Tierro.
Kat stepped forward and snapped to attention, and fixed her eyes on a particular brick in the citadel wall. Outside, distant thunder grumbled.
Captain Tierro peered down his hooked nose at her, and he forced a thin smile.
“Soldier Collier. It is the decision of the City of Morton and Her Majesty’s militia that you be promoted to the rank of Watch Commander,” he drawled. “You are therefore to be reassigned to the Kormyr Docks Crownsguard Tower, and are to be given command of the second watch squad at that location. May you continue to serve the City and the Crown as admirably in your new role. Congratulations.” He pinned a golden fabric chevron to her shoulder, and saluted.
Kat copied his salute, clenched right fist to her left breast, and bowed her head.
“I’ll arrange transport to your new post,” said Tierro. “Report to the main gate in ten minutes.” He strode from the room.
Kat admired her new insignia for a moment, then gathered her weapons and left the Citadel for the last time.
The gloomy courtyard sparkled beneath a fork of lightning.
Under the canvas stable roof, slouched against the dusty wall, was Ellie. Curls of orange hair, the colour of autumn leaves, flowed across her narrow shoulders. She gazed at the rainfall in a nearby puddle, and hummed to herself.
Kat jogged to meet her.
Ellie jolted from her reverie and beamed. “Watch Commander!” She jumped into Kat’s arms and wrapped herself around the shiny wet steel armour.
Kat gazed into her lover’s eyes, and kissed her. Ellie tasted of apple and chocolate. “Thank you so much for coming up for this, El. I know it’s not your thing.”
“It matters to you, Kat, so it matters to me.” She pecked her on the cheek. “Where’d you get posted?”
“Kormyr Dock. Not too far from home. I’ve got to head over there now and be introduced.”
Ellie wrinkled her nose. “So I can’t reward you properly for your promotion?”
“Not just yet, at least.”
“Remember I’m out tonight, too.”
Kat sighed. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.” Her tongue darted into Ellie’s mouth and she tasted chocolate again.
“Collier! Let’s move!” shouted Tierro. A wooden carriage pulled by two paint horses waited, door ajar, under the gatehouse.
Ellie put her finger on Kat’s lips. “Don’t apologize. Go. I’ll see you soon enough.” She ran her hand through Kat’s platinum hair, then smacked her bottom. “Go!”
Kat gazed into Ellie’s hazel eyes for a moment more, then she rushed to the carriage. From the door she looked for Ellie but the courtyard was deserted.
\
The carriage groaned to a halt outside a stone guard tower and Tierro flung the door open. The sharp, tangy stench of seaweed filled the air.
Kat stepped onto the slippery wooden platform and into the rain.
“Collier, this is Tower Chief Cortland, he’s your new superior,” said Captain Tierro.
Kat saluted the squat, bald man. “Sir.”
“Welcome to Kormyr Docks, Watch Commander. I look forward to seeing if you are ready for this position. Please, this way.”
Kat glanced back at Captain Tierro but the carriage door slammed shut and the driver whipped the horses into action. She followed her new commanding officer’s indication and entered the dank stone building.
“Hold here a second, Collier. I’ll get you introduced.” Cortland pushed past her into the barracks.
Kat folded her hands behind her back and drew a deep breath. Her heart fluttered behind her ribs like a caged bird.
“Right, you lot, pay attention,” bellowed Cortland. “Smith, put that down. Second Squad has been without a watch commander for a while now, and the tower hasn’t burned down yet.”
The rumble of sniggers drifted out into the hall.
“The militia have decided not to press their luck any further, however, so that changes today. Please welcome your new Watch Commander, Katrielle Collier, freshly transferred from Sky Pillar Citadel.”
Kat sucked in one more lungful, rearranged her face into what she hoped was polite confidence, and strode into the room.
Forty eyes scanned her from head to toe, and Kat felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
“There’ll be time for introductions,” said Cortland. “For now, I need two of you. Smith, Mathiasson, well volunteered.”
Two of the men glanced at each other, then rose.
“The rest of you, full combat exercises. Soldier Daish, you’re in charge.”
The men groaned.
Kat followed the Tower Chief from the room.
“You two, wait outside,” said Cortland. He beckoned Kat into the cramped office.
“Now that the formalities are complete, I have your first set of orders, Collier.”
“Sir.”
“We have intelligence on the current hideout of the brigand known as Skell. Take those two to the longhouse behind Molten Metal blacksmiths, and raid it.”
“Skell, sir?”
“If he’s there, you’ll know it. Must be seven feet tall and built like a carthorse. If you do identify him, then use whatever force you deem appropriate to bring him down. I’d send more men, but I think you’re best working quietly. Skell seems to have ears everywhere. I don’t need to tell you that if you’re unsuccessful, he’ll go to ground again.”
Rain beat a tattoo on the trio’s steel armour and the slick cobbles. The road’s central gutter flowed fast and deep.
“This should conceal our approach,” said Kat.
Smith and Mathiasson nodded in silence.
“Do you know this place?”
“Yeah,” said Smith. A jagged scar bisected his eyebrow and milky right eye. He rubbed his stubbly chin. “We raided it before but never found nothing. There’s another door round back and a bloody huge window on the east side.”
“Excellent. You get the door. Mathiasson, the window’s yours. Count thirty-five from my mark, then enter.”
“What you gonna be doing, erm, miss? Is that what I call ya?”
“I’d prefer ma’am, but honestly I think we’ve got bigger worries right now than titles. I’m going to walk up and knock on the front door. Enter quietly if you can, but haste is more important than stealth. Ready? Ready?” She looked each of them in the eye.
They glanced at each other. “Yes, ma’am,” they echoed.
“Excellent. Go. And, mark.” She began the count in her head as the two men scuttled through the downpour. She reached twenty-five, stood, and strolled to the front door. In her ear, her pulse drummed as loud as the rain. She pulled her plain black cloak tight, to hide her armour. On thirty, she rapped on the doorframe with the steel knuckles of her gauntlet.
The door opened on thirty-three, and an enormous bearded figure loomed over her.
“What?” he grunted.
Kat beamed. “Good morning, sir! How are you today?”
“Busy. Piss off.”
Kat wedged her boot in the closing door.
“Just one moment of your time, sir, please.”
A crash echoed from the back of the room, and the giant turned away.
Kat drove her shoulder into his gut. A putrid breath exploded from him and he crumpled.
Kat hurdled his body and crouched. Her shoulder thrummed with a dull ache. She slid sword from sheath with a metallic whisper and held the blade close to her side.
Three men, one bald, one shirtless, and one that wore only a stained vest and shorts, struggled to rise from straw beds to her right.
Her sword was the finger of the hand she pointed at them. “Crownsguard. Stay where you are,” she shouted.
The bald, round-faced man, snorted. “Just some little girl in her daddy’s armour. Come on, boys, we can have some fun here.”
“Stay where you are.”
The bald man leaned back as if in supplication, but drew a blade from under his pillow. In one fluid motion he launched it across the room.
Kat batted the knife away with her gauntlet and it clattered against the shelves in the corner.
Shirtless launched himself across the room in a blur of limbs. He swung for her in a wide arc.
Kat dropped to one knee, his arm swept over her head, and she punched him in the kidney.
He groaned, and fell.
Vest tugged a gigantic iron axe from under his bed and leered.
Kat’s eyes widened, and she drew her dagger from her back with her free hand. They eyed each other.
Smith appeared in the doorway, and his sword dripped red. “Mathiasson is out cold, ma’am,” he said. “Two men down out here.”
Vest glanced at Smith.
Kat flicked the dagger up, caught it by the tip, and hurled it at the axe wielder.
The blade sunk to its hilt in the man’s thigh, and he screamed. He goggled back and forth between the blade and Kat, then dropped the axe and fell. He clutched his leg and moaned.
The bald man gaped at his compatriot, then raised his hands and sat back on the bed.
At Kat’s gesture, Smith scurried over and began tying his wrists.
Something akin to a cannonball slammed into the back of Kat’s skull. She staggered, and tasted blood. The beds slid out of focus.
The mountainous door guard’s sinister guffaw rumbled through the room.
“Get her, Skell,” shouted the bald man.
Smith silenced him with a smack.
Skell lumbered forward.
Kat’s ears rang, and the iron taste in her mouth turned her stomach.
“Heh. Silly girl,” boomed Skell. He swung each fist in turn.
Kat dodged his left, but his right hook connected above her ear and she hit the floor. The room whirled. She was lifted by her armour and thrown against the shelves in the corner.
Kat fought to breathe. She coughed, and flecks of red hit the ground next to the bald man’s discarded blade. She felt, rather than heard, the footsteps of the giant approach.
He bent over her, and the room darkened.
Kat rolled, grabbed the blade, and swiped a wild slash through the air above her. Hot liquid cascaded over her.
Skell gurgled and spluttered. His hands clasped the gash across his throat. His terrified eyes pleaded with Kat before they lost focus, and he collapsed on her.
He crushed her chest. She tried in vain to draw breath. She fought to move his gargantuan frame but her arms were pinned. Darkness framed the corners of her vision.
Hands grasped the body’s shoulder and the weight eased. Kat sucked in an icy breath, and another. She rolled away, and the body landed beside her with a thud.
She lay on her back, gasping. Blood soaked her platinum hair and stained her face and chest. She sat, tugged a blanket from the nearest bed, and wiped herself down.
Mathiasson stood in the doorway holding his head, and Smith looked down at her from behind the enormous corpse. They stared open-mouthed.
“Hells, girl, you’ve got skills! I mean, ma’am,” said Smith.
Kat grinned, and spat a glob of scarlet into the blanket. “Thank you, Soldier,” she rasped.
Kat paused before opening her front door. Music wafted on the breeze. Strains of melody floated from the house. She lingered for a moment, shut her eyes, and embraced the music. The stress of the day melted from her back like ice in the sun. She rolled her shoulders, and knotted muscles unravelled.
Ellie sang of a long dead hero, a man who vanquished dragons. The delicacy in her voice and the control in her tone reached deep into Kat’s chest and warmed her heart, as always.
The song ended. Kat sighed, and heaved the oak door with the familiar squeal of the hinge. Ellie’s auburn fringe sprouted from behind the overstuffed settee like a meerkat from its den. Her lute hit the floor with a tuneless twang.
“Kat!” Ellie vaulted the seat back, but her smile vanished. She skittered to a halt before the soldier. “You’re covered in…”
Kat glanced down at the crimson splash across her breastplate. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It isn’t mine.”
Ellie turned away, and picked up her lute from the floor. “It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry, love. I got it out of my hair, at least.” Kat unclipped her stained breastplate and dropped it to the stone floor with a clang. She slipped behind Eleanor and wrapped an arm around her, forearm across her collarbones. With a gentle pull, she drew Ellie’s slim frame against her own and kissed the base of her neck.
Ellie tensed for an instant, then sighed. “I’ve got to get ready, darling,” she said.
Kat did not respond, but moved her attention up Ellie’s neck to her ear. Her left arm slid across Ellie’s hips, and squeezed her tighter still. Her right hand dropped from Ellie’s shoulder, slid under her robe, and cupped her breast. She found her nipple, and rolled it between thumb and forefinger.
A subtle moan escaped Ellie’s lips. Her head rolled back onto Kat’s shoulder, then she turned to face Kat. “Damn you,” she said. She seized Kat’s face with both hands and locked into a kiss. Her tongue burrowed into Kat’s mouth.
Without breaking contact, Kat pushed Ellie’s robe over her shoulders, and it tumbled to the floor. Her hands explored her lover’s body as if for the first time, caressing every inch of her skin.
When they separated for air, Ellie fumbled with the straps and buckles of Kat’s doublet. They shuffled together toward the fireside and when the leather undergarment thudded to the floor, Kat and Ellie landed on the hearth beside it, intertwined and inseparable, a blur of limbs and sweat.
“You gonna help me get dressed again?”
Kat propped herself up on one elbow. “That’s not nearly as much fun. Where are you going, anyway?”
Ellie rooted through the pile of discarded clothes. “I’ve got a gig tonight. Over at the Wayfarer Tavern. You wanna come?”
Kat paused. “I was planning on having a bath, actually. And I need to wash my armour.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“Don’t be like that, El, please.”
“It’s fine. You’ve been working all day, and it obviously wasn’t an easy day. You don’t wanna trek across town.” Ellie pulled her dress over her head. “And you definitely need to bathe.” She threw a towel at her.
“I can come along, El, it’d do me good.”
“Nah, it’s fine. You can stay here and warm the bed up.” She bent over her and wrapped her hand around Kat’s neck. “Then you can warm me up.” She kissed her, twice, then picked up her lute. “But you owe me!”
Water lapped at Kat’s chin and stung the back of her raw head. Her thoughts drifted to her lover. In her mind’s eye Ellie sang on the stage of a small tavern, while Kat watched with a tankard of ale. Couples hugged and swayed to Ellie’s music. Every patron was rapt to her song.
Ellie’s lute morphed into a giant bell, which she thumped over and over again. The world shook and crumbled, and the tavern in front of her dissolved.
Kat awoke with a jolt to the shrill chime of the watchtower bell. She dove out of the bath, which rocked from side to side, and murky water cascaded over the lip. She sprinted across the room to her armour, and droplets scattered from her and joined her footprints, and the pools on the floor.
Kat snapped to attention amongst the other Watch Commanders. “Sir?”
The night air was thick with the peal of watch bells. In the distance to the east the sky glowed an ominous orange. Soldiers joined the group with varying degrees of urgency.
“The city walls are breached,” Tower Chief Cortland barked. “A few hundred yards south of the Eastgate.”
Kat’s heart crashed into her larynx. “Near The Wayfarer, sir?”
“Right outside. Muster your squads and get blockades set up. Contain the fighting in that area until more guards can get in position. First, by the fountain. Second, half way up Silver Street. Third, at the Foxglove Inn. Get to it!”
Kat grabbed her bannerman by the collar and dragged him against the far wall. “Second Squad, on me!” she bellowed.
Smith and Mathiasson were joined by a straggle of men she didn’t know. Several walked with noticeable limps.
“I know we deserve our rest, gentlemen, but that is not the card we’ve drawn today. I know we need time to get to know each other, but we will learn on the job. Our city is in danger, and from more than just the obstinate drunk. If we don’t stand and fight, Morton could fall, and that is something we cannot abide.”
Murmurs of agreement echoed back at her.
“So we will go, we will drag our tired and battered bodies, and we will stand. And we will fight. And we will hold the line against the enemy until our reinforcement arrives. Because that, gentlemen, is what we do!”
The murmurs coalesced into a ragged cheer. Kat set off at a sprint, and the clank and clatter of armour followed her from the square.
Silver Street’s cobbles glistened and reflected the distant firelight. Screaming and sobbing civilians poured away from the carnage while flames licked the thatched roof buildings in the distance. At the end of the road, wreathed in fire, stood the Wayfarer Tavern.
Kat’s vision blurred. She blinked focus into her eyes and scanned the vicinity. “That cart!” she shouted. “Pull it across the road! And that wagon there. Build us a barricade. Crates, barrels, whatever you can find!”
“We’re not going to engage, ma’am?” asked Smith.
“Our orders are containment, that’s what we’ll provide. Get it done!”
“But there’s people need helping,” he said.
Kat squared up to him, and snarled up into his face, “Do you think there is anyone here who wants to engage more than I do, soldier? I have orders that I will follow, whether I like them or not, and so do you. Get to it!” She stared at The Wayfarer again, and her eyes stung.
In the square before the tavern the battle raged. Surviving members of the gate garrison were overrun by hordes of invading soldiers. They broke, and fled.
“Get your spears and lances through these gaps, like this,” said Kat. She jammed her polearm through the spokes of the cart’s wheel so that the spearhead pointed at the burning tavern. Her unit found similar gaps, and the barricade grew spines.
The invaders spread, and charged. They broke on the barricade like waves on the cliffs.
“HOLD!” bellowed Kat.
Her men shuffled beside her. Spears and lances jutted into the throng and the screams began, multiplied as each wave was crushed by the one behind. The makeshift wall shook with each impact and a barrel tumbled over the edge.
Kat pulled her sword from her back and plunged it over the wall. It met resistance, and returned slick and red.
In the distance, the yells reached a crescendo. The burning façade of The Wayfarer creaked, then pitched onto the crowd below.
Kat screamed in spite of herself. She thrust her blade into the mass of bodies behind the wall, and swept it back and forth. Each time it reached its apogee, a guttural cry filled the air.
To her left, an invader climbed atop the barrier. A spear pierced him from kidney to shoulder, and the wall stood a little taller.
The direct assault subsided, and the hordes threw whatever they could find. Flaming debris rained down on the wall, and on Kat’s squad. Pieces of fiery timber lodged in the empty whisky-soaked barrels.
The barricade flared and burned.
“Two paces back and draw swords,” shouted Kat.
Her unit left their spears and stepped into line.
“Anyone coming through that is going to be disoriented. Get straight on to them, do not give them time to adjust. Worry about the space in front of you, trust your neighbour to do the same. Defend your city! Defend your family and your friends!” She shifted from foot to foot like a stallion at the gate.
The barricade exploded in a flurry of heat and motion with the force of the oncoming charge, and Second Squad yelled as one.
Kat bounced from man to man. She slashed and stabbed and rolled through the chaos. Something solid hit her knee and she yelled. At the edge of her awareness, a horn blared. She spun, and scanned the battle.
New banners filled the tavern square. The Citadel garrison marched in formation, and swallowed the invaders.
Another guard unit charged up Silver Street to her rear. Kat found a sword flung at her feet, and an invader on his knees in front of her. She grabbed his shoulder and threw him face first in the wet road.
Ragged cheers spread along the street.
Kat’s eyes returned to the shell of The Wayfarer, and she ran. Her lungs burned and her knee throbbed but she sprinted through the chaos. With her arms across her face she dove into the hulking inferno.
The bar was ablaze, and the flames were tinged with the blue of alcohol. A fallen beam glowed sullen orange. Smoke filled the high-ceilinged lounge.
Kat gasped the scalding air and spluttered. Smouldering rubble littered the stage. Her hammering heart skipped. She leaped toward the mound of clothes that lay piled amongst the rubble.
Ellie’s coral hair was matted and scarlet. A savage cut split her forehead and her cheek was covered in dried blood.
Kat swept Ellie’s lithe body up in her arms and stood. Her knee buckled and she staggered. Tears flowed down her face. She fought her way through the smoke and ash, and out into the bitter night.
She laid Ellie’s body on the cobbled road, and bent over her. She struggled to catch her breath between sobs. She tugged her gauntlet off and stroked Ellie’s face with her bare hand.
Ellie hacked and coughed. Her unfocussed eyes found Kat’s face and she grinned. “I knew you’d come,” she said.
Kat spluttered, half chuckle, half sob, and cradled her lover.
“Good to see you’re on the mend. That’s a very impressive scar, Watch Commander,” said Mayor Forley.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ve been working on your request, and I’ll get straight to the point, if I may. You know marriage between two women is not legal. I might have found a way around that, but it comes with some conditions you probably won’t like.” The Mayor watched her.
Kat’s eyes narrowed.
“When we strip back the dressing, the tradition of marriage itself is somewhat primitive. Ownership of the woman is transferred from her father to her new husband, correct?”
“Well, that’s a romantic perspective, sir,” said Kat.
“But in essence, this is what occurs. Everything more is simply ceremony. We can replicate that in every way, other than in the eyes of the Gods.”
“You’re losing me, sir.”
“Let me explain. And please, hear me out before you shout at me, Collier, I know how this is going to sound.” He took a deep breath.
“There is an antiquated, but still legal, tradition that allows a celebrated military hero to be given, as a prize for their deeds, a young woman of the city.” He raised his hand. “I know. Let me finish. This rite predates the acceptance of women into the military, and as such makes no reference to the sex of the hero in question. In fact, the definition of hero is thankfully vague. If you both agree to this, it would convey upon your relationship the exact same benefits and status as marriage in law, but not in religion. The details of the ceremony are completely up to you, with the exception that it would be your Captain that would preside, not a priest. He would also have to seek royal assent, but that should be a formality.”
The rage that grew in Kat’s chest subsided, and she stuttered. “I – don’t know what to think about that, sir.”
“Of course. It is a lot to take in. Discuss it with your partner. I should tell you that since she would be the one making the sacrifice, we have already discussed it with her.”
Fury bubbled in Kat again. “You talked to her before me?” Her voice cracked, and she winced.
“Katrielle, this is the way it must be done.”
His use of her first name silenced her. She released the breath she’d prepared with a sigh.
“These things must be done in the proper order. We cannot talk about the city giving away one of her citizens without first discussing matters with that citizen. She must first volunteer, for us to be able to offer her to you.”
“It still seems-” Kat froze. “Wait, what did she say?”
The mayor’s smile beamed for the first time. “I’m talking to you about it, am I not?”
Kat’s heart sang. Her eyes prickled and her entire body unclenched, and released tension she didn’t know was there. She fought to maintain her frosty demeanour but her resolve broke. She dropped her face to the floor and a laugh escaped her throat. A single tear coursed down her left cheek. When she looked back at the mayor, his smile was wide but his eyes were also red.
Kat paced in the dark corridor. She tugged at the collar of her armour. Her heart was lodged in her throat and her stomach whirled like the wheel of a runaway wagon. Her knees shook and her hands trembled.
Captain Tierro’s monotone drawl rumbled through the double doors, but he was too faint to comprehend.
A page boy stood, his hand in readiness on the brass handles, and awaited the signal to move.
Kat paced again. She gnawed at her fingernail.
“Ma’am. Get ready.”
Kat stepped onto her mark. She stared at the ceiling and forced slow, deep breaths.
“It’ll be bright, ma’am. Prepare yourself,” said the page boy. He tugged on the door and it swung open. Bathed in afternoon sunlight, hundreds of people whooped and cheered and applauded.
Kat marched into the light and fought her instinct to squint. She stepped in front of the Captain, turned her back on the crowd, snapped to attention, and saluted.
“Watch Commander Collier. Your actions during the recent invasion undoubtedly saved countless lives. You held your defensive position until reinforced, and fought bravely when called upon. Earlier in the same day you successfully dispatched the brigand known as Skell, and disbanded his organisation. It is with great pleasure that I award you the Golden Lance, the Crownsguard’s highest honour.
Kat bowed her head, and the crowd burst into applause.
Tierro hooked the medal onto Kat’s armour, and leaned close to her. “Collier. There’s been a bit of a problem. You remember you were told I needed royal permission to perform the gifting? Unfortunately, the Princess refused me permission to perform that part of the ceremony.”
Kat’s stomach plummeted. Her head swam with a thousand confused images, but all were banished by Tierro’s simpering grin. Red mist descended upon her.
Tierro stepped back and addressed the crowd. “My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he bellowed. “Please be upstanding for Her Most Serene Royal Majesty, Sovereign of Caxony, Princess Jeniver!” He stepped back and to the side, and his outstretched arm indicated the mahogany stage doors, which creaked open.
The colour drained from Katrielle’s face. She bowed her head and dropped to one knee, and her greave clattered on the marble floor. Behind her, excited chatter morphed into cheering and applause.
A hem of red velvet billowed into Kat’s eye-line, and a hand reached under her chin and drew her face upward. Kat gazed up at her Princess.
Sleek, obsidian hair framed her slender features and curled beneath her chiselled jaw. Subtle freckles adorned her cheeks and her emerald eyes glittered. Her chaste smile set dimples into her ivory cheeks.
“Please, stand,” she said. Her voice was smooth but powerful, a siren call.
Kat stood, and bowed her head again. “Your Majesty,” she murmured.
“Watch Commander Collier. I have learned of your exploits during the invasion and I am deeply impressed.” Her voice soared over the crowd. “Your actions simply reinforce my belief that we have only limited ourselves as a nation by restricting the progression of women through the ranks. As I come of age next month, my first action as Queen will be to end this restriction. My second will be to fight so that ceremonies such as this, weddings such as this, will need no excuse, no legal loopholes, to be held.”
The crowd gasped and chattered, then applause spread like flame across paper.
“But, these concerns are not for today. For now, it is my greatest honour to introduce you all to the lady making this profound sacrifice on behalf of the city.” She winked at Kat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please stand and welcome, Eleanor Bowyer.” She stood aside as Tierro had, and the enormous doors swung open again.
Six soldiers marched through the door in pairs, each holding a banner of the Crownsguard aloft. They split, and lined the space between the door and the Queen.
Ellie stepped into the sunlight.
Kat’s breath caught in her throat. Her vision clouded and her head swam. Her face burned and her heart hammered in her ears.
Ellie’s alabaster dress flowed in silken waves from her body and trailed behind her. Pearls clung to her long neck. A pair of delicate lace flower chains ran from her shoulders and intertwined on her chest. Feathers built into the sleeves could have been an angel’s wings. A fine net veil covered her eyes and she held a lavender bouquet in front of her face.
The audience gasped, then exploded into rapturous applause.
Ellie stepped beside Kat, her back also turned to the crowd. They kneeled before the Princess.
Jeniver took Ellie’s right hand in her own. “Eleanor Bowyer, have you been fully informed of the nature of this commitment?”
“I have.”
“And do you agree to be bound by this contract, and all that it entails, freely and willingly, until death claims you?”
“I do.”
The Princess’ radiant smile lit Kat like a searchlight. She took Kat’s right hand with her left, and it was warm and soft in Kat’s sweaty palm.
“Katrielle Collier, have you been fully informed of the nature of this undertaking?”
“I have.”
“And do you agree to take this woman into your care and into your family, freely and willingly sharing with her your name, title and all you possess, until death claims you?”
“I do.”
“I hereby pronounce that Eleanor Bowyer is henceforth to be known as Eleanor Collier, and is to have all the rights and privileges of that title.”
The Princess joined Ellie and Kat’s hands together, then held them aloft.
“The ceremony is complete.”
The audience erupted.
Jeniver held up her arms for peace and silence descended. “And, since the ceremony is at an end, I am no longer limited to a legal script.” She smiled at them both. “Eleanor and Katrielle, You may kiss your brides.”
©May 2020 Damien Allmark
Damien Allmark is a new author from Bristol, England, who has previously been published in Ariel Chart. This is his first appearance in Swords & Sorcery.