He was the first successful challenger in seventy years. And he'd climbed it
practically alone.
Naturally, she was intrigued. The long years had slowly worn down her
mind, and meeting a challenger would be a nice distraction.
She heard the door open. There were no footsteps. He must be fairly
capable.
Her voice carried well as she called out to him while pouring a cup of
tea.
"Welcome."
"I—I really ended up changing my mind…," Tinasha muttered as she stared
at herself in the mirror, amazed.
The year she'd spent as his protector felt so full and yet had passed in
the blink of an eye.
From the mirror, the witch saw Pamyra's reflection smile with
satisfaction. "You look beautiful—the loveliest bride ever to be."
"I never even dreamed I'd get married," admitted Tinasha.
"Everyone says that," responded Pamyra.
While they spoke, Sylvia very seriously placed the veil on Tinasha's
head and let out a deep sigh. Then she straightened up. "You're all done!
You can move now!"
"Thank you," said Tinasha, and she got to her feet gingerly. The train on
her dress and her veil were both long enough to fill up half the dressing
room. The snow-white wedding dress accentuated Tinasha's ebon, abysslike eyes.
The witch took a few steps forward and sighed. "It would be faster to
teleport…"
"You have to walk!" Pamyra admonished her.
"Urgh. This dress is so heavy," Tinasha complained.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. A magistrate had come to lead
the bride-to-be.
Pamyra straightened the train of the veil and opened the door. The
people outside the door gasped when they caught sight of Tinasha, and she
winced and stepped out nonchalantly.
The castle cathedral was already filled with guests, both domestic and
international.
Oscar was in the cathedral's anteroom pulling on his gloves. He glanced
at his father next to him. "This is such a bother. We could have done
something simpler."
"This is going to go down in history. It will only happen once, so you
must present yourselves properly."
His father's "only happen once" could have generally referred to the
wedding itself or the fact that it was a witch being married. Oscar couldn't
tell which it was, but he gave a reluctant nod. His coronation had been a
bare-bones affair, so he supposed he needed to resign himself to a full
ceremony this time.
On the other hand, his bride would be riding from a location outside the
city to arrive at the castle for the ritual, parading herself through throngs of
people. This tradition was likely a holdover from the days when soon-to-be
queens would come from foreign countries to secure political unions. Oscar
objected to it on the basis of security, but his betrothed had retorted: "It'll
be easier than guarding you." Right about now, they were probably getting
the carriage ready for her.
Both Oscar and Tinasha had been so busy this week that they hadn't
seen each other once. It was a tradition for the bride and groom not to meet
before the wedding anyhow. That was actually another reason Oscar had
wanted a more straightforward marriage.
He belted on the royal sword and checked his appearance in the mirror.
"Come, it's time to go," his father urged.
Oscar nodded and headed for the door. Behind him, his father said,
"Rosalia would be so proud of you."
At his mother's name, he closed his eyes. So many people had helped
bring him to life and helped him on his way to this moment.
It was truly extraordinary.
With gratitude from the bottom of his heart, Oscar walked through the
door.
Fuss and commotion stirred up the crowds gathered along the main road
through the castle city.
The king's bride was about to come down the street. But for them, it
wasn't necessarily something they could openly delight in. People
exchanged glances and murmured in gloomy tones, "It's that witch, isn't
it?"
"But they told us the stories about her are wrong, didn't they?"
"Still…"
When the fact that the king was marrying a witch was publicized, it was
also announced that as of the wedding, the old stories that Farsas was
familiar with would be amended. Tinasha recommended leaving them as
they were, insisting that old fairy tales weren't anything to worry over.
However, Oscar had asserted that ancient myths that would dishonor the
future queen shouldn't be spread around, especially when they weren't true.
Despite the crown's proclamation, most weren't ready to welcome
Tinasha with open arms right away. False stories or not, she was a witch.
Some folks appreciated her past service to the king when she'd fought
on the front lines for Farsas, as well as the fact that her tremendous power
would surely be a boon to the kingdom. Unfortunately, most of the
populace felt deeply conflicted and confused.
"Queen Rosalia was so beautiful."
"This bride's a witch, isn't she? What d'you think she looks like?"
"Probably all wrinkly and dressed in black…"
"She wouldn't wear black to her wedding."
Just then, the carriage bearing the royal bride came into view. It was an
open-top buggy protected by multiple layers of sturdy magical barriers.
Onlookers craned their necks to see and were struck dumb by the sight of a
bride who was far and away not what they had envisioned.
Her white veil set off her cool, clear looks to perfection, and she herself
was as lovely as a work of art.
Long eyelashes fluttered about large eyes that were an absorbing,
entrancing onyx black. Below her elegant alabaster nose, red lips as pretty
as flower petals curved upward in a faint smile.
Everyone was so caught up in simply gazing at her that they forgot to
cheer. Many recognized her as the same mage who had ridden next to the
king at the New Year procession.
Pamyra, who was sitting across from the witch in the carriage, hissed,
"Lady Tinasha, give them a proper smile."
"A proper smile sounds easy, but that's actually a difficult order…,"
murmured Tinasha.
One reason Oscar had opposed the carriage procession was that he knew
that after his announcing that his bride was a witch, the masses would be
throwing her prejudiced stares, and he didn't wish to subject her to that. Yet
Tinasha disagreed and had elected to ride in.
Regardless of tradition, it was a problem they would have to handle at
some point. Dodging the issue wouldn't solve anything, and Tinasha
wanted to resolve it as soon as possible so she could stand evenly at Oscar's
side.
As Tinasha pasted on a pained smile, she caught sight of someone she
recognized. A boy was waving his hand amid the wall of people, and when
he realized that she recognized him, he broke into a grin and cried out,
"Miss! I mean Lady Tinasha!"
"Saye! How have you been?" she replied.
The boy tried to run up, but soldiers quickly stopped him. Tinasha
moved them aside, however. Saye slowed his pace to match the carriage's.
The witch almost reached out to pull him into the carriage, but Pamyra held
her back.
As he trotted alongside it, he beamed up at her. "I knew you were the
witch."
"Yes, I am. I seldom go back to the tower, so you shouldn't have gone
there. It's dangerous. If you need anything, come to the castle," she said.
"When I get older, I'm gonna become a soldier. I'll get stronger and
protect you!" Saye proclaimed.
"I look forward to that," she replied, breaking into a broad smile as
Saye's eyes sparkled in anticipation of his future and with his firm
determination. She didn't realize it, but that smile of hers was as lovely as a
big blooming flower, captivating all who looked at her. Saye blushed a
little.
There was a pause, and then a sudden cheer rose up from the crowd.
Tinasha looked up in surprise. "What? What's going on? Did I do
something?"
Pamyra giggled as she observed her lady looking all around her in
confusion and heard the unanimous cries of congratulation erupting from
the throngs. "And that's why I told you to smile properly. Your grin holds a
rather dangerous power."
Tinasha's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. She looked from Pamyra
to Saye and then burst out laughing.
Tinasha's carriage bore her inside Farsas Castle on a wave of everspreading applause and well wishes. She alighted and made her way down a
covered walk erected for the occasion toward the cathedral.
The door to the chapel came into view, but there was a woman standing
before it. Tinasha noticed her and stopped. Security was particularly tight,
as it was the king's wedding day. And yet this woman was here in ordinary
clothes, clearly not a wedding guest or a castle staff member.
The soldiers walking ahead of Tinasha barked, "Who are you? What are
you doing here?!"
They moved to unsheathe their swords, but Tinasha held them back.
"I'm sorry, could you let us have a moment to talk?"
"But…," they protested.
"I'll be fine," she assured them lightly, and she stepped toward the
woman, who looked to be in her midthirties and wore a chilly expression.
She was beautiful, though her looks had a harsh tinge. Her thick chestnut
hair was tied up in a ponytail that came to her waist.
Tinasha approached and gave her an awkward smile. "It's been a while,
Lavinia… Did you come to see him?"
"Not particularly," the woman said with a sniff.
Tinasha asked somewhat nervously, "Then to kill him?"
"I didn't come for that, either. I just came to see the face of a girl with
bizarre tastes."
"Is that all?" asked the king's bride, cocking her head. Sorrow filled her
dark eyes.
Lavinia took no notice of Tinasha's emotions. "I guess he was lucky
enough to win you over. I won't meddle any further. Do what you want."
Having decided that was the end of the conversation, Lavinia retreated
to one side. Silently, she gestured to the cathedral doors.
Tinasha started to say something to her old acquaintance, but she held
her tongue in the end. Shaking her head a little, she approached the entrance
to the chapel. The soldiers came running up to open the way for her.
She took a deep, slow breath.
The grand doors groaned deeply as they spread.
A great many people stood and turned at the bride's arrival. A stir ran
through the crowd. Yet their gazes and the roar of their excited whispers
seemed so distant they might as well have been from another world entirely.
Tinasha was looking straight ahead.
There he was at the end of the aisle, waiting for her.
Most of the cathedral sighed at the bride's supernatural beauty.
She made her way toward him in a slow, stately procession.
Unable to take his eyes off her and lost in her beauty, Oscar murmured
to himself, "So damn gorgeous."
Once she came up to the step below the altar where he was standing, she
knelt before him and bowed her head. Oscar reached out and lifted back her
veil, then placed a small crown on her head.
Then he took Akashia and placed the point of it against her forehead.
In a quiet and yet well-projected voice, he intoned the ceremony's
opening remarks.
"Let a new vow and covenant betwixt us be made. I, Oscar Lyeth
Increatos Loz Farsas, take thee, Tinasha As Meyer Ur Aeterna Tuldarr, as
queen of Farsas. Thou shalt have all the rights of my wedded wife. I
proclaim this here."
In concert with his words, power with traces of a contract flowed from
Akashia into the witch. This as-yet-unexplained force differed from magic;
it was something passed down in the Farsas royal family since times of old.
No records spoke of it.
As the power spread throughout her, Tinasha spoke. "I accept and give
thee my troth. I take thee for my wedded husband with my name and my
blood, and pledge myself to thee together with everything that belongs to
me."
This wasn't an ordinary wedding vow. Her words signified that Farsas
would henceforth inherit all that she owned as a witch and as queen of
Tuldarr.
And that included the mystical spirits of Tuldarr.
Prior to this, she had suggested to the spirits that their contract with her
end upon her death.
However, they all wished to transfer their contracts to those of the Farsas
royal line who would bear her blood in their veins, saying that it "sounded
fun." They had initially been spirits passed down by the rulers of Tuldarr,
where the regent was selected based on power. If they moved to Farsas,
there might come a day when no ruler could summon and use them.
But that was a story for another time, far in the future.
Oscar extended a hand and helped his bride to her feet. He whispered in
a voice only she could hear, "Four generations later, Farsas finally got you."
His sly joke made one side of Tinasha's lips quirk up. She looked up and
into his eyes, which were the color of the sky just after dusk. Mischief
danced in his gaze as he grinned at her.
"I don't need Farsas. Just give me you," she replied. Oscar beamed at
that, and he bent down and kissed his wife.
Their promise was full of love and their vows to each other.
When the kiss ended, she gave a beautiful expression and said liltingly:
"O king, I am your witch."
A love that made up for her lifelong loneliness.
Everlasting and unshakable feelings.
"And you are my king. This witch pledges her eternal love to you."
The Witch of the Azure Moon smiled like a flower in full bloom, as pure
as a young girl.
That day marked a turning point, bringing an end to the Age of Witches
that had gripped the land in fear.