The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Bonus Chapter #3: The Boy (Ruck's POV)

Six Months After Trebalda is Crowned Queen

As always, the wedding ceremony started off boring.

A horn bleated an off-tune melody over the plucked chords of a heart-shaped lute, both Najilans lacking the skill and enthusiasm of Trogolese musicians. A hundred white benches scattered an open grassy field dotted with lavender wildflowers. Front and center, stones circled a bundle of twigs in a pit. Two priests stood behind the pit, one man in Rakim's traditional gold frock and one woman in the deep red dress and copper scarf of Fooja's clergywomen.

Queen Trebalda claimed one of the back benches in a simple pastel-green frock as though to blend into the background. Based on the not-so-discreet peeks in her direction, the effort was wasted. With the frock's sleeve pinned to her side and the power and presence in her posture, no one could miss her.

On the bench to my left, Rona crossed one leg over the other, rested her elbow on her knee, and cupped her furry chin in her palm. One of her fingers stroked the bronze curls over her cheek as she stared off into the woods beyond the musicians.

I tipped my head in Rona's direction and cleared my throat. "Rona, you alright?"

Rona nodded, and a distant almost-smile touched her lips. "Fifty years ago, I watched two women get married here."

"Hmm. Hope they lived a good life."

Another nod. "They did."

A weight dropped heavy against my shoulder, and I glanced down to see Mitzy's uneven bangs feathered across her forehead. Even with the hair obscuring most of her face, I glimpsed her closed eyes, cute button nose, and slightly parted lips. Her bangs fluttered with each exhale, and each inhale caught in her throat.

I slid one hand up to ruffle her hair. "Mitzy."

She peeled one eye open, peering at me sideways. "What?"

"You were sleeping."

"Just dreaming of happy forever mores for my dearest nephew."

"You were snoring."

"My dreams never happen quietly."

But then Mitzy's soft warmth left my shoulder as she jerked upright in her seat. Toom had appeared.

As he strode toward the priest in front of the firepit on the right, his red vest stretched over his broad shoulders and muscular chest and arms, and the sunlight highlighted the lighter strands of his carefully-combed dark blonde hair. He held his shoulders back and greeted the audience with a confident smile and nod — such a contrast from the drenched preteen who begged me to help after he pushed Niako into the lagoon.

The musicians broke off, and for a moment, only the distant caw of seagulls and crashing waves permeated the stillness. Then the Rakim priest dove into a speech I remembered from numerous previous weddings, blabbering about "a union blessed by Goddess Rashika," "a bond deeper than the Paksha Sea," and other such nonsense. When he reached the portion about a "spark brighter than gold," an assistant handed flint and steel to Toom, who struck them together until a flicker of light crackled over the smallest twigs and burst into a glowing flame. The priest prattled on a bit longer, Toom repeated a few phrases, and the fire licked the twigs and spread out over the pit, the lambent glow warming Toom's face. 

With a burst of anticipation, I realized this was the moment the second partner would enter. I drew my hands into fists on my lap, and Mitzy covered one of my fists with her soft, warm palm.

Then Niako entered.

He wore the same traditional frock as the Rakim priest but in navy blue woven with gold lace, and one black ringlet spiraled over his forehead in perfect disarray. Toom's proud posture melted, and a smile split his face. Niako's eyes danced with condescending amusement, but his teeth flashed as bright as the gold in his frock.