16.2

Zyrdicia paused at the door to the throne room to permit herself to be announced. The guards threw open the enormous doors with a flourish. She noted they were not in their usual uniforms. Whether the present garb was a permanent change or merely ceremonial, she could not know. In any case, it looked very much like Anthony's work - swirling black cloaks of heavy silk, silver breastplates over form-fitting black leather. She considered it an improvement over the strange little uniforms they normally wore.

Beyond the door, the room was silent in anticipation. Every eye was upon her as she stepped inside. She heard a collective gasp of wonder as scores of people inhaled at once.

She paused and surveyed the room, giving them all a moment to stare in awe and absorb the sight. She blinked as scores of minds' thoughts swirled around her, uninvited. She caught the mental perception of every person in the room at once in a blinding chaos of adoration. Each person's scent accosted her nostrils in a dizzying sensory array. She blinked again, carefully masking her surprise.

The Blackpool throne room was normally a strangely somber place. Tonight it was more strange than somber. It was a space normally devoid of color - black carpet woven with an enormous version the family sigil in silver thread in the center of the room, black stone walls broken only by muted ancient tapestries of past kings. The present guests filled it with a bizarre play of color that seemed garishly out of place. Large bunches of ribboned, purple snow orchids hung between the tapestries. The hues seemed peculiarly vivid to Zyrdicia's eyes. Every sensory perception was hyperbolic.

Shutting the audience from her mind, her eyes traveled to the throne. She needed a familiar anchor for her overloaded senses. She smiled enigmatically at the man seated upon the king's chair, affecting a preternatural calm that belied her befuddled sensory state. He looked very much at home on the enormous black chair, with its intricate silver inlay of snakes writhing around skulls.

She was pleased that even Dirk seemed caught off-guard by her appearance. Everything about her had an otherworldly glow that seemed to linger just out of the eye's grasp. The sensation was such that one suspected that by glimpsing her out of the corner of the eye, one might catch a full view of divine splendor. Her skin had an angelic radiance; her purple eyes glittered brightly but somehow stopped just sort of the disturbing glow they sometime had. As she moved, an aura seemed to linger behind her, echoing her motion as though the air in a particular spot were loathe to relinquish the beauty of her presence.

She looked nothing like the women of Aparans. The frilly, ruffled gowns and elaborate head-dresses that were in vogue in the realm suddenly seemed vulgar. She wore a striking, long velvet dress that exemplified the sleek, black lines she favored. Instead of Aparansian poofed skirts, it flowed smoothly over her hips in a narrow cascade which swirled loosely around her feet. Her bare arms were covered with long, matching gloves adorned with sapphire bracelets that mirrored her eyes' hue perfectly. Her hair had been swept up and coiffed with several strings of additional jewels. The gems in her hair caught the torchlight and sparkled as she moved. The only other piece of jewelry she wore was her ever-present dagger pendant. The angelic, polished perfection was a far cry from her leather-clad battlefield persona.

Dirk stood up from the throne and moved to her, taking her gloved hand to kiss it gallantly as their eyes met. One could have heard a pin drop in the silence in the room. He led her gracefully to the dais. Something about the stiffness of his touch told her that he was nervous about playing to an audience such as this. He was used to bullying individuals and small groups, not performing for a crowd, particularly with stakes so large. She squeezed his hand lightly.

He turned to address the aristocracy, his tone confident and commanding. "Lords and ladies of Karteia, several of you have recently expressed your desire to meet Zyrdicia, the mortal incarnation of Saxarba. Tonight, I present her to you as Baroness of Dagonia, my fiancee and your future queen! With our union, the Blackpool crown shall be uniquely blessed by all the might the gods can bestow!"

The announcement seemed to echo for the space of a heartbeat in the awe-filled room. It met with a second collective gasp, then stunned silence. An instant later the entire room erupted in cheers and applause.

"Now we exit!" Zyrdicia announced telepathically.

"Whatever for?" Dirk wondered silently.

"Exiting will fuel the sense of mystery. The excitement will build."

Dirk took her advice and led her to a door behind the throne. They exited together. In the room beyond, the noise in the throne room was easy to hear. The applause went on a long time, then turned into a tumult of excited conversation. Saxarba lore had become fashionable among the northern aristocracy in previous months, and ladies now babbled to one another gaily. Men conferred amongst themselves about what it meant for the North for the ancient goddess to bless the royal family and endow it with her blood. There was no question in anyone's mind that they were witnesses to the unfolding of the most glorious age in their country's history.

Dirk listened intently on the other side of the door, excitement burning in his eyes. The Crown was his for the taking. He was certain his plan had worked. He turned and regarded the woman who was the source of the success. Despite the near brush with disaster, she had come through for him brilliantly. She had performed her role beyond his expectations. It was almost impossible to believe that the beaten creature at death's door a day ago now stood before him looking every bit like the goddess manifestation she purported to be.

Looking at her now, he was again taken aback by the effect of her appearance. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself. I told you I'd be here in time. Don't look so surprised."

"How is it possible...?"

"Never underestimate the benefits of a good nap," she smiled, relieved to be away from the crowd and the invisible anarchy of smells and thoughts.

"You look . . ." His eyes moved from her face down her body, pausing for a long moment over her exposed cleavage. It was not often the silver-tongued prince was speechless.

"Divine?" she laughed.

"Indeed. As well as breathtaking and exquisite," he purred, bringing her hand to his lips again. He had never before seen her in formal attire; the effect was as stunning as it was gorgeous. He could not take his eyes off of her.

His gaze lingered on her fingers and he seemed to remember something. He reached in a pocket with his free hand and pulled out a ring. He slipped it on her finger then remarked, "I had intended to give you this when you arrived last night, but you were hardly in a fitting state to receive it."

"It's beautiful." The fit was perfect. She was not surprised that he had tended to such a detail. The band was designed as an elegant platinum snake coiled in the shape of the Blackpool sigil. A very large diamond had been set in its center, where the snake's body crossed over itself. Over her thin, black gloves, its brightness was dazzling.

"It has been in the family for a long time. Every Blackpool queen for at least five generations received it upon her engagement, as a token of the affection of her lord-to-be. Whenever you appear in public, I expect you to wear it."

Zyrdicia's expression became pensive as she looked at it. It was not a token of affection. It was a token of ownership. "I think the version of this design cut into my thigh says far more," she whispered, looking up from the ring to meet his gaze.

"I'm pleased you are still aware of that," he replied, his azure eyes piercing into her.

"I'm also aware that the power games we play when we are alone together have nothing to do with the real world. Our betrothal will not change that."

"Oh, but I'm afraid you are wrong now. Last night I was quite serious about this madness being at an end."

"Last night?" she repeated, confused.

"Do you remember what I told you last night?"

"I have no recollection of anything after I left the astral plane. Did I see you last night?"

"You remember nothing at all of what I said to you?" he asked, looking a bit disappointed.

"No. What did you tell me about madness ending?"

"I told you there will be no more fighting with demons. Going off to slay gods. Suicidal recreation. I won't tolerate any of it once you are my wife. I will not permit my queen and the future mother of my children to-"

"Have you lost your mind?" Zyrdicia interrupted, laughing. "Did I scare you that badly?"

"You nearly died! I'm not at all convinced that you didn't!"

"Not for the first time, though possibly for the last."

"I assure you, it was the last time. Your obsession with self-destruction, like your penchant for vulgar amusement in Lyr, will now cease."

"It's sweet that you care. Really, it is," she mocked coldly. "But I'm not interested in you caring."

Dirk bristled. "But I'm afraid you misunderstand my motive. You are about to become my chattel. Harm to your body will be under my exclusive dominion - not yours. I will have sole discretion over your whereabouts, your behavior, your companions and every other aspect of your existence! "

"Lest you get carried away and begin to believe this fiction we are presenting your nobles, I remind you of the terms of this. I marry you, get you your crown and your conquest. I spawn a soul and leave when it suits me. Domestic harmony isn't part of the bargain. I agreed to marry you for the sake of your coronation, not to become an obedient wife. Futile attempts to control my life will only piss me off."

"Be that as it may, you have no choice but to submit to me."

"In bed, maybe, but only because the game entertains me."

"Not just there," he countered smugly. Divine looking or not, the urge to trade jibes with her was irresistible just now. It did not particularly matter what about. It felt wonderfully right, for a change. Their bodies moved slightly nearer each other with each verbal volley.

"You wish," she sneered, fighting the urge to smile as his grip on her waist tightened.

"In this case, you will fulfil that wish. If you fail to please me, I might delay giving you what you want out of this."

Zyrdicia's eyes widened ironically, "I'll try to keep that in mind when I get to cast the final baronial vote regarding your coronation tomorrow. My vote against ratification would be taken as a sign from the gods - you would never be king!"