The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani (story reading .TXT) 📕

them, into the main interior courtyard of the building, but can make out little.

Speaker Adashay, the head Speaker and highest religious authority of Menaiya, leads us within, the other two Speakers flanking him. We proceed into a vast central open-air courtyard, complete with central reflecting pool. Standing to one side is a small table, elegant in its simplicity, set only with a single goblet, a golden cord, and a thin sheaf of papers. Beside the table rests an ornate couch with deep royal-blue cushions, the wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx.

It’s a little surreal, the exquisite surroundings, the royal family, the greatest Speakers of our land gathered together. I knew they would all be here, of course; it is the royal wedding, after all. It’s just strange to find myself here when two weeks ago I was caring for my family’s horses and then searching the plains for Seri. This is a world away from that.

We walk Alyrra and her mother to the couch and help settle Alyrra upon it. Rows of court nobles are seated in small wooden chairs across from the sofa, here to witness the wedding and its blessing. At home, the wedding formalities are often witnessed only by the couple’s closest relations, but I suppose a royal wedding is a different beast.

As we withdraw, Kestrin moves to sit alongside Alyrra, with the king and Garrin standing behind him, just as the foreign queen accompanied the princess. And there, having clearly arrived separately, is her brother. He steps up to Alyrra’s side and stands there, chin raised and gaze moving slowly, arrogantly over the gathering.

I wait, knowing his gaze will come to me, and I’m not disappointed when he looks right at me and his lip curls in a faint smirk. My heart beats faster than normal, though I don’t know if it’s anger or a residual panic called up by the cold malevolence in his pale eyes. I lift my chin in return, and meet him glare for glare.

The ceremony begins, Speaker Adashay intoning a blessing in the Old Tongue, but the foreign prince is still looking at me, and I won’t be the one to turn away first. Let him look. I have nothing to hide, nothing to apologize for, and I will not allow him any space for victory.

Vaguely, I’m aware that Kestrin and Alyrra have each sipped from the goblet, have bound themselves and their service to God, and Adashay has moved on to the actual wedding itself. But the foreign prince doesn’t look away, and neither do I. I just blink slowly, and watch as his face grows redder and harder with each passing moment. I’ve spent a lifetime putting up with cruelty and I’m not afraid to look his viciousness in the face.

“Together, you will learn mercy and forgiveness,” Adashay says. “You will learn to build on one another’s strengths and cover one another’s weaknesses. Together, you will oversee the needs of your people. Will you so bind yourselves?”

I hear Kestrin and Alyrra assent, a mere murmur below the thud of my heart. There is a rustle of paper as the final marriage contracts are presented to the royal couple, and the foreign prince glances down, distracted. He looks up again at once, his face mottling and eyes full of fury. Even though it isn’t really a fair victory, I grin at him and turn my gaze to the royal couple.

Kestrin and Alyrra each lift a hand and entwine their arms so that their palms press flat against each other, side by side, neither one above or below the other. The woman Speaker lifts the golden cord from the table and gently winds it around their arms, binding them together, a symbolic joining of strength and mutual support.

I’ve seen this ritual many times before, though the cords I know are made of bright thread rather than gold. The binding is the final rite of the wedding. The king steps forward to offer a drink of almond milk flavored with orange water to his new daughter, and the foreign queen does the same for Kestrin, and the families are sealed, the alliance established, the ceremony complete.

Now will come the festivities: a day at the baths first for the women, then for the men, followed by the sweetening, and then the actual wedding procession and feast.

As servants bring out trays set with dozens of fragile cups filled with the same drink offered to the royal couple, Mina murmurs, “Try not to look back at the foreign prince now.”

I glance at her, surprised.

She shrugs. “You were not particularly subtle about it. You may have won that round; leave it at that.”

“He started it,” I say, as if I were a child.

Zaria huffs softly on the other side of me. Jasmine, on the far side of her, doesn’t seem to have heard us.

“You mean everyone noticed?” I ask, my gaze darting from Zaria to Mina.

Mina eyes me with disbelief. “I can’t imagine too many of the court missed it.”

“Oh.” My cheeks burn and I give thanks that at least my skin will not show my embarrassment half as much as the prince’s revealed his.

“Have some almond milk,” Mina says, and lifts a cup for me from the tray a servant offers us.

Almond milk and orange water is a delicious blend, one I’ve had at weddings at home as well, though somehow the taste is fuller, more sweet than I’ve had before. I sip it slowly and do my best not to look around, though now I can feel just how often people’s faces turn toward me, the way their eyes slide over the bruises on my face.

I chose this, I remind myself. I chose to make a show of myself, and I’m not going to mind it now. Let the prince be ashamed, if he can feel such an emotion.

I glance toward the royal couple just as the foreign prince himself steps forward to congratulate them, one hand out toward his sister. Alyrra doesn’t move,