Luther's Pride Part 22

The servants' wedding preparations were becoming routine. They swiftly cleared a space in the library, poured drinks for the guests, and prepared the dining hall for a wedding feast. The kitchens stoked their fires and cooked the feast. Others guided the guests out of the library while they worked and brought them to the lounge by the front of the mansion. 

Holly and her family stayed close to one another, but in contrast, Emily and Lucas remained apart. Lucas clung to Branan’s family, drinking and laughing with them. Their merriment seemed odd, and Branan’s occasional glances toward Bertilak and his wives caused Lord Verdell to stiffen with annoyance, subdued only by his wife whispering in his ear. The two were alone in this crowd, with the others having gone off to help Eira and Rhosyn prepare for their upcoming ritual. Still, they were close enough to Branan’s group to hear every rude word. 

Meanwhile, Emily sat on a comfortable chair by the windows and read the small book in her hands, ignoring the rest of the world. It had been on the table the night before, and while the library books remained in the library, this one was waiting for her. 

Luther, Helena, and Jo went upstairs to prepare themselves, and before long, everyone was brought back into the library. Silk decorations hung from the bookshelves in waves, encircling a space toward the end of the library beneath a glass dome in the ceiling. Looking above, Luther could see the two moons in the late afternoon sky, pale but present in the sea of blue above. 

Seeing the moons during the day always felt strange to Luther. Yet, when Eira and Rhosyn looked up to follow his gaze and smiled beautifully in response, the eeriness fled him. The twins were a strange pair, but their white wedding robes distracted. Their typically unsettling grace and concerted movements appeared elegant and refined in such finery that every gesture seemed rehearsed to perfection. 

Neither Cerebrion nor Luther allowed candles in the library, but crystals ensconced on the ends of shelves and against the wall lit the room when necessary. Otherwise, some sections of natural light with large glass windows were warded to protect the books. Luther had to admire the preparations that went into what his father built. The man seemed to think of everything. 

His weddings to Helene and Jo had been in the garden, surrounded by his mother’s favorite flower. It was almost like having her present for the event. Here, the imposing shelves on two stories surrounded them. If the flowers filled in for his mother, then the books and writings in this library would serve as his father’s avatar, and Luther thought it appropriate that his father be here. 

Luther, Helena, and Jo stood together in a trio. Luther’s eyes continued to sweep the room around them. Joe stared at the door in anticipation of the priest. Helena watched Luther and held his hand when something wistful crossed his eyes. 

Eira and Rhosyn stood apart; their mothers were behind them, and their father was not far away. Criella presented them with the documents necessary for their union, and Eira and Rhosyn answered her questions and signed the folio Criella laid out on the table. Luther, Helena, and Jo did the same, followed by a formal toast from Petrol. 

Now, all they waited on was the priest, who was due to arrive any moment. 

“If I might have a word?” Bertilak asked Luther, approaching from the side where Luther hadn’t seen him coming. 

He didn’t startle, but Bertilak had surprised Luther, and Luther nodded. He, Helena, and Jo shifted to receive their guest. 

“Alone?” Bertilak asked, giving an apologetic look to Helene and Jo. 

“Oh.” Luther turned to Helena, who nodded, and Jo, who frowned. They were his spouses and partners. Whatever Bertilak had to say to him, he could say to them. Still, he assumed the man must be nervous, wanting to talk to him about something wedding-related. However, Helena and Jo were just as much a part of the wedding as he was. “What is this about?” 

Bertilak laughed and stroked his beard. “I just need to speak with you, Lord to Lord. Some quick business before you three marry my daughters.” 

Luther looked at Helena and Jo again, but Jo was still frowning. Luther squeezed her hand to prompt her to speak. 

“You can say whatever it is to all three of us, can’t you?” Jo asked. 

“Of course.” Bertilak said quickly. “I didn’t mean to suggest a lack of trust. Only that one of you might be spared when all three of you slipping away with me might distract your guests.” 

He had a point, and try as she might, Jo didn’t seem able to summon a counterpoint besides her contempt for being left out. 

“I’ll fill you in, of course.” Luther said as he pulled away from them. “We’ll be right… over there.” He nodded toward the archives, and his spouses nodded, telling him to hurry back. 

Luther and Bertilak slipped away. 

“What is it?” Luther asked. “Do you object to the wedding?” 

“What?” Bertilak asked, surprised. “No, of course not.” He shook his head. “My Eira knows what she’s about.” He tapped his nose. “Listen to her, but don’t depend on her too much. It’s rare, but occasionally she’s wrong or too vague to be useful. Her Arcanum isn’t always as detailed as she’d like it to be.” 

Luther nodded. “So, what did you want to talk about?” 

Bertilak sighed. “I want your permission to challenge Branan.” 

Luther looked surprised. “What?” 

“The man and his partners are insufferable.” Branan said. “They’ve been making comments since you rejected him again and have been nothing but hateful toward people of our… persuasion.” 

Luther frowned. Their persuasion meant people with limited sexuality. Most were free with their desires, and that freedom was taught as morally ideal. Unfortunately, Luther couldn’t help who he was attracted to, nor could Bertilak. Their ‘narrow’ natures were seen as a weakness in the empire, and while Luther wasn’t sure he disagreed, it was still rude for Branan and his family to speak such things plainly in Luther’s home. 

“But beyond his insults toward me and you.” Bertialk said. “I saw Lucas steal one of your father’s books from the library and share it with Branan. The two have been inseparable since.” 

Luther’s eyebrows rose, and he looked behind him as if he could see through the shelves to where Luther and Branan stood. “Do you know which book?” 

“A leather tome.” Bertilak said. “I didn’t see what was inside, but it had all the appearances of a historical tome.” 

Luther frowned. That didn’t narrow it down anyway. “Do you know what shelf he took it from?” 

Bertilak nodded. “Toward the back of the library, on the second floor.” 

Luther frowned. “On the left side?” He asked as the knot in his stomach twisted. 

Bertilak nodded again. 

“He stole one of my father’s journals.” Luther said, his teeth gritted. “I should challenge him myself for the affront.” 

“But to do that–” Bertilak started. 

“I know. I’d forfeit my period of grieving, and Branan would be free to challenge me.” He sighed. He’d have to wait for satisfaction either way. 

“So allow me.” Bertilak said. “Besides, there was something else Branan said. He… suggested to his husband that it was lucky Cerebrion died when he did. His husband, Emory, laughed and winked, saying, ‘Oh, sure, luck did all the work.’” 

Luther furrowed his brow. 

“Then they laughed together and hushed their voices.” Bertilak said, presenting his palms as if leaving the evidence before a judge. “I think… I think they may have had something to do with your father’s death.” 

Luther’s mouth pressed into a firm line, his fists clenched. Anger roiled through him, but it passed like a splash of water against him and dripped away as his mind raced through the potentials of the past. 

“My father passed away in his sleep.” Luther said, repeating what he’d been told. “A heart attack, not unusual in those his age.” 

Bertilak nodded. “I can only repeat what I’ve heard.” He said. “Your father was a friend and never treated me any differently. He was a good man with a mind unlike any I’ve ever seen. He was old, and I don’t know much about the Fey to know whether he was old for his kind or if such maladies are common among their people, but from what I knew, your father was in excellent health. He trained every day. For him to die of a sudden failure in his heart? The news shocked me.” 

Luther frowned, unable to quell the suspicions now creeping into his mind. Was it possible? Maybe. His father’s death had come as a surprise. The Fey in their realm didn’t age at all. Here, they aged one year for every ten a human might age. Some carried their experiences better than others, but his father had not appeared ancient the last time Luther saw him. Older, sure, but as handsome and as full of life as a man half his age. However, what was external did not always dictate the internal. A weakness of the heart might have been lurking within him the entire time until the odds fell against him. Luther couldn’t know. 

“I will investigate this.” Luther said after a long period of silence. “Thank you for bringing it to me.” 

“Of course.” Bertilak answered. “But might I have your leave to challenge Branan?” 

Luther thought it strange for an older man to ask his permission to wager his life in combat, but he understood. Bertilak was following the spirit of social etiquette rather than its letter. He was the governing lord here. Not only were these his lands and Bertilak his tenant, but this was his home. A challenge between the two might interrupt the wedding or ruin the party. 

“I will wait until after the wedding, of course. In the worst case, I want to see Eira and Rhosyn wed before…” Bertilak drifted off, letting the suggestion of his death at Branan’s hands hang in the air. 

“Have you discussed this with Eira? Does she have anything to say about it?” Luther asked. If her divination could predict the future as Luther deduced, then had she told Bertilak to do this?

Bertilak scoffed. “I never ask Eira.” He shook his head. “I am the master of my own destiny. I listen when she offers advice, as she usually proves correct, but she has been wrong before. Her predictions are not as immutable as she suggests, though they become less changeable if she convinces you of their inevitability.” 

Luther nodded slowly, understanding as much as he could. The possibility of his father’s death being from unnatural causes, however, distracted him. 

“Lord Le Fey?” Bertialk asked, recalling his attention. 

Luther snapped out of his thoughts and nodded. “If you wait until after the wedding… I am not encouraging you to challenge Branan, but you have my leave. If you need anything from me, you have only to ask.” 

Bertilak nodded. “I must discuss it with my spouses, of course, but I knew the propriety would be their main objection. Thank you.” He dipped his head to Luther, who returned the gesture and offered him a clasp of hands. Bertilak took it, clasping Luther’s forearm. “Either way, take good care of my daughters. If Branan challenges you, protect them. If I don’t kill him first.” 

Luther nodded. “Of course.” 

They released each other and returned to the library. Bertilak joined his spouses, standing by Eira and Rhosyn, fixing the white ribbons in their black as the abyss hair. Their mothers styled their makeup and hair in preparation for the event, and they both looked stunning. Luther searched their features, trying to distinguish which was Eira and which was Rhosyn, but he could see no difference between them. His gut told him Eira was the one on the left. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Helena asked. She chuckled. “Small, though. Slender. I’m afraid I’ll break one of them in half.” 

Jo chuckled, holding Helena’s hand. “You didn’t break me.” 

“You’re all muscle.” Helena countered. “And I haven’t broken you yet.” She smiled. “I figured I’d wait until after our first week together.” 

Luther laughed with them, and they were smiling as the priestess entered. Jo’s smile fell, but she shook her head when Luther raised an eyebrow. He’d expected the same old priest from last night, but the temple had sent someone else. Of course, Jo knew this person, but there was some apparent tension between them and some history that Luther was utterly ignorant of, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Jo didn’t explain, nor did she move to greet the priestess. The priestess came to her.