Mayra was pacing nervously. This was going far more rapidly than she had anticipated. Before the day was out? How could a successful marriage be built on a few stilted words between strangers? Was Naomi crazy?
For the first time, Mayra wondered if she was underqualified to supervise these arranged matches. Two cultures that she knew relatively little about, except what she had studied on the journey here, were giving their sons and daughters in matrimony to each other. Apparently without a second thought about it!
What insanity possessed these people? Didn't they know marriage was permanent?
She thought back to Dierdre's warning to choose a spouse carefully. That was at the height of her fake-husband's abuses. They now, from what Mayra could tell, had a somewhat stilted but slowly being repaired relationship.
Surely marriage was something to undertake with someone you love. How could you stand spending all your time with a complete stranger?
She paused, and turned again. With the simple venue of the central area of the settlement decorated as much as it would be, she had some time to kill.
In the interim, she watched at a distance as Naomi cooked and Caspian watched. Maybe that would be enough to dissuade Naomi from proceeding with the ceremony, but she doubted it. Everything was already in motion, and to disappoint the Cetoan leaders now might be a bad idea.
Her teeth chewed the inside of her cheek in worry.
"Everything all right?" A voice said from behind her.
"No, Peter, it's not." Mayra spun on him, glad to have an outlet for her anxiety. "I'm afraid my friend is making a terrible mistake and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Sure there is," Peter replied. "You can be there for her and support her choice now that she's made it."
"How can I support what I think is the wrong choice?" She fretted.
"Marriage, I'm told, is difficult," Peter replied, "But as long as both people work hard at it, it's worth it. That's what my parents have always said."
"Why should it be work? Shouldn't love make it easy?"
"I think that even people in love have to work together." Peter shrugged. As a single man of eighteen, he could only know what he'd gleaned from others. "It's probably easier in some ways and harder in others when you don't start with love. But, in their favor, it looks like everybody here really wants to make this marriage work. That outside support has to count for something."
"I suppose. Or maybe it just will put more pressure on them." Mayra couldn't stop seeing the worst, and turned to resume her pacing. Peter caught her arm to stop her.
"Slow down. Breathe. It's going to be all right." He smiled.
"You have no way of knowing that," She pulled her wrist from his grasp.
"That's true, but you don't know that it won't be all right."
"I HATE not knowing things," Mayra pouted.
"Then tell me what you do know," Peter leaned against a tree casually, as if settling in for a long session of conversation.
"I know that Naomi is sweet and gentle and quiet. I know that Caspian seems irritated and probably doesn't want to be married to her at all, but will do it because his parents are making him." She started.
"Well, when I'm irritated, someone being sweet and quiet is usually a good way to calm me down. Maybe she'll be good for him." Peter seemed determined to find the positives for the couple as long as Mayra focused on the negative. The subtle jab at Mayra for not being those things swam underneath the words.
"Are YOU trying to be irritating?" Mayra shot at him, causing him to smile wider.
"Am I succeeding?" He replied unrepentantly.
"Not as much as you might think, but enough." She said.
"Is it distracting you from worrying? I can be more irritating," Peter offered.
"I know you can. I wish they had ovens here." Mayra changed topics suddenly.
"Ovens?" Peter blinked in confusion. "Are you wanting to cook me?"
"I like to bake when I'm stressed," Mayra waved her hand dismissively. "I would also have liked to make Naomi a wedding cake."
"I don't think Rhone has those. or Ceto." Peter had been around enough to overhear many of Mayra's conversations with Naomi in the past days.
"I KNOW that. But I want her to have one anyway. I already helped with the dresses for a wedding gift, but... I just want to do more."
"You're a good friend," Peter assured her. She turned back from the far end of her pacing with tears welling up in her eyes.
"Are you sure? Even though I don't want her to get married yet?" She wanted so badly to interfere. Was that wrong of her?
"Come here," Peter opened his arms to give her a brotherly hug.
Suddenly missing Riley, she took him up on the invitation. Peter had grown so much taller than Mayra that her ear rested against his heart as he embraced her. The beat was steady and calming. The hug bolstered her courage, as being held by someone bigger than oneself often did.
"Thank you, Peter. You're a good friend sometimes." She stepped away dry-eyed, and he frowned.
"And other times?" He asked curiously.
"I don't know what you are other times." She grinned, making him laugh.
_____
All of Caspian's efforts were for naught. Now he stood in front of his father, who performed most marriage ceremonies for the people, with this strange woman in front of him, holding a plate of food that she shouldn't have been able to make.
He'd been shocked at her non-reaction to the shellfish. He thought it was impossible for her to have seen shrimp before, and thought if there was no wedding meal, maybe there could be no wedding. She had outmaneuvered him.
The attendees leaned forward anxiously, curious about the bride's covered face. Haf gestured for Caspian to proceed, and he reached up to take down the veil that hid her countenance from the attendees.
There were no audible reactions to her face, but there was a palpable sense of relief that Rhone women weren't deformed or different in some horrifying way.
Another point of irritation. He had tried to offend her by having a poor reaction to her face when she revealed it earlier, but she'd been too pretty for him to come up with anything negative yet believable to say. And she'd even looked away instead of watching the carefully crafted look of disgust he'd prepared! The absolute nerve of her!
The bride and groom took turns feeding each other bites of the food Naomi had prepared. Caspian was shocked, and almost a little disturbed, that she had been able to cook such a delicious meal. If he had not watched her do it, he would have suspected his mother of helping.
Though Caspian had uncovered Naomi's face, she took a moment to remove the head-covering entirely for Cora to wrap around the Ceto marriage rope as a blending of the two traditions.
There was an audible gasp through the crowd as beautiful jet-black curls tumbled down her back. He, too, was a little stunned. She was the dregs of the Rhone?
"We bind these two with bonds uncut," Haf spoke as Mayra and Cora began winding the rope in opposite directions around the couple, with Mayra ducking underneath as they crossed paths. Among the Cetoans, the closest female relatives of the bride and groom were appointed this task.
"They will remain bonded together for all time, through all troubles, during all triumphs, and in all worlds." Haf held out his hand, and Mayra and Cora each placed their end of the rope into it. "I bind you."
"We bind you," The spectators echoed.
Naomi put her hand over Haf's that held the ends of the rope, as Cora had instructed her. Caspian's hand went on top of hers, and she flinched slightly as it did. He would have been gratified by the reaction more if it weren't too late to back out of the marriage.
"We are bound." He recited in unison with Naomi.
"You are bound in spirit, in soul, in body, and in truth." Haf finished the ceremony with a presentation of necklaces. Two lengths of leather string, both strung with one item. Each held one of the two shells from a single scallop, representing how the bride and groom were now halves of a whole. They would wear these as a token and proof of the marriage.
In turn, Caspian and Naomi ducked their heads to have the necklaces put around their necks. When Naomi lifted her abundant hair out of the way, Caspian's already dark expression deepened at how soft her hair felt against his knuckles. The woman was nothing short of a temptress and he resented it.
She must have seen the change in his face, because she shot him an annoyed glance that startled him out of his reverie. What manner of woman was now bound to him?