Page 17 of A Wolf's Bargain
They left the main hall together, heads held high. She was to meet her future husband outside their gates, which required her to walk past their entire household on her way out. They’d all gathered to watch their lady meet her fate. No doubt some thought it would be her death. Some of the kitchen girls openly cried, tears slipping down their cheeks as they struggled to hold back their sobs. Men and women who’d known her their whole lives crossed themselves and kissed their fingers before raising them toward her. Deirdre stood off to one side, pale and stoic. Cora stopped long enough to kiss the old woman’s cheek before she continued her long march to the gates.
Halfway there, Cora spotted Bran leaning against the stable door. He clutched a pitchfork in his hands, and even from a distance, she could see the way he trembled. The agonized, enraged expression on his face worried her. She’d never even seen Bran frustrated at anyone. He’d always seemed the very picture of calm, but now he looked as wild as the wolves she’d promised herself to. Suddenly, she feared he might do something foolish in his anger.
She leaned toward her father and whispered, “Father, might you have one of your stewards check in on Bran tonight?”
Her father frowned, glancing toward the stables. “Bran? Whatever for?”
“He... not that I ever encouraged it, but he—” Cora trailed off, unsure of how to explain without embarrassing the sweet man.
“Ah. Had designs above his station, I gather. Yes, I’ll send Daniel to talk to him later. Last thing we need is for the lad to go off half-cocked and get himself killed.”
Cora nodded. “Thank you, Father.”
He patted her hand, and they continued their journey toward the gates. When they reached the boundary of her childhood home, the gates opened without a word from either of them. The two night watchmen waved a silent goodbye, and Cora lifted her bouquet to wave back.
Outside of the walls, everything suddenly felt different. She’d managed her nerves well enough before, but outside of the safety of her home, the ramifications of her decision loomed ominously. She thought of the monster she’d seen and the way it had looked at her like she was little more than a rabbit in its path. Would she see the beast again? If she did, would she survive a second meeting?
Finally, she saw her groom and his men. He’d only brought a handful of men with him, along with an elderly man that she assumed was the priest meant to marry them. Every steptook her closer, and every moment gave her another chance to question her choice. What would Cillian do if she ran now? Would he chase her? Would he let that awful creature free and run her to ground like the foxes her father’s hounds tracked every fall?
By the time they reached Cillian and his men, Cora thought her heart might pound right through her chest. The only thing keeping her on her path was her father’s steady presence at her side.
Even in the low light, Cora knew the exact moment that he saw her. Bright blue eyes reflected the moon’s light and held her gaze as she approached. She wanted to look away, to hide from him and his damned eyes, but she didn’t. To look away would be to show weakness, and she’d promised her father that she would be strong.
The old man spread his arms in welcome while Cillian and his men glowered like a murder of crows. “Ah, Lord Kilkenny, My Lady, welcome! ‘Tis a fine night, is it not?”
“Would be a better night in a church with actual light to see by. I don’t approve of marrying off my daughter in a farmer’s field, Fane, or in a pauper’s dress as though she comes from nothing. You insult her, Sir, and me.”
Cillian said nothing; he only nodded toward her father and rolled his shoulders beneath the great wolf skin. Cora couldn’t help but be reminded of the forest gods Deirdre used to describe in her stories. Like them, the man before her was wild and untamed, and it was impossible not to recognize the danger of being in his presence.
The old man smiled and shook his head. “On the contrary, Lord Kilkenny. This is the way all luchthonn make their vows. The moon covers all in her light, and we are called to face her without ornamentation because her eyes see all men as they are—not as they dress themselves up to be. The looming treesrequire no jewels. The mighty river boasts no riches. The beasts of the wood wear no rings or buckles, and yet the moon sees them and shines her light upon them. Why should men think themselves different?”
Before her father could respond, Cillian huffed impatiently. “By the time you’ve finished, it’ll be dawn. Can we get on with it?”
Her father frowned at Cillian’s rudeness, but the old man only laughed. “Pardon him, my lord. Males are always—shall we say—eager at bonding ceremonies. Especially on a full moon!” He winked at Cora conspiratorially and said, “It bodes well for the wedding night to have a fervent groom!”
Cora paled at the mention of her wedding night. She’d grown up near livestock and understood how their young came to be. Poor Deirdre had even explained the basics of the marriage bed when her monthly cycles began. She knew what was expected of her as a wife but hadn’t allowed herself to consider the wedding night when forming and executing her brilliant plan.
The old man beckoned her forward, and she reluctantly released her hold on her father’s arm. She walked to her groom like a criminal headed for the gallows and hoped no one would notice her trembling hands in the low light.
The old man smiled as though he hadn’t noticed the tension in the air. As far as she could tell, he assumed this to be a happy joining, and she hoped it was a good omen that at least one person at her wedding was joyful.
“Gather close, friends, and witness the bonding of the two before you. Cillian Fane and Lady Cora Kilkenny have come forth to be made one before our splendid mother. Her light illuminates the darkness of night, and so shall it light your path as you journey forward together. You have come here without adornment, artifice, or lies, and in that simple truth, you will bejoined. Our luminous mother sees all of her children, and by the light of her eyes will your bond be blessed.”
It was unlike any mass Cora had ever attended and utterly different from any wedding ceremony she’d heard either. She’d never thought of the wild wolf-men as having any sort of religion, but both Cillian and his men listened attentively as the old man spoke. Her father shuffled uncomfortably, almost as though he expected God to send a bolt of lightning to strike him down for being a part of such talk.
The old man turned to Cillian and said, “Cillian Fane, as the male, you have the honor and responsibility of protecting your mate and any offspring you may produce with your life. I charge you to love her, provide for her, and carry her burdens as though they are your own. You will offer her the first meat of your kills and the last breath in your body until the day your bones return to the earth. Do you accept this charge?”
Cillian’s voice was firm and clear when he said, “Aye. I accept this charge.”
The old man nodded and turned to Cora. “Cora Kilkenny, as the female, you have the honor and responsibility of protecting your mate and any offspring you may produce with your life. I charge you to love him, support him, and carry his burdens as though they are your own. You will offer him the first meat of your kills and the last breath in your body until the day your bones return to the earth. Do you accept this charge?”
Cora clutched the wildflowers to her chest to keep her hands from shaking. “Aye. I accept this charge.”
Cillian took one of her hands in his own without so much as a glance her way. The old man gestured at their joined hands, then raised his own above them. “A bond is a partnership, my friends. Remember that though male and female have their roles to play, neither is more valuable nor more worthy than the other. As bond-mates, you will walk your life’s path together.Embrace each other’s strengths and allow for weakness. Above all, remember that love is the greatest strength and the greatest gift in the world. May your bonding be blessed, and let nothing separate that which has been brought together.”
It was a beautiful, if strange, speech. Cora was convinced that the old man either did not know of their situation or was touched in the head. He talked of love and partnership as though their marriage was anything more than a bargain they’d made. There had been no talk of love, no romance, and she doubted there would be much of anything resembling respect from her husband. There would be no ‘walking life’s path together.’ They would exist together. If he would keep his word and protect her people, that would be enough.
The old man tied their clasped hands together with a thin leather cord and held them between his own gnarled hands. He smiled at them as though this were some grand celebration rather than her proverbial funeral. “By the light of our glorious mother and the witness of all those present, I proclaim you, Cillian Fane, son of the luchthonn, and you, Lady Cora, daughter of Ossory, to be bond-mates. You must now seal this union with a kiss.”