The sitars changed their melody to a repetitive, single-string pick, making room for a more dominant thumping of drums in unison with a flitting duo of high-pitched flutes. Then a horizontal harplike-instrument took over, banning the other instruments to the background.

The crowd, who had barely seated down as he had walked to the front, rose once more. Collectively, the dome seemed to hold their breath as the Princess appeared at the back, veiled, and escorted by Alafin Cyrus. 

Jhara radiated in her sparkling white gown and flowery, silver tiara with chains leading to the ruby stone on her forehead. People frantically pointed at the train filling the aisle while serving men and women did their best to prevent the dragging of the lace on the floor.

Sebastian fidgeted with his fingers behind his back. Their wedding seemed so real now that she walked down the aisle, taking small steps and heavily leaning on her father's arms. 

With his white turban, white trousers and tight pinkish-red and gold vest over a white long-sleeved shirt, the Alafin donned the traditional Scorian attire from the west. An image of the man's sweaty, sagging muscles and body rolls popped into Sebastian's head. Cursed Gods of Sin—it would haunt him forever, wouldn't it?

He blinked repeatedly, shifting his attention back to his bride. No, he didn't love her, but by the Heavenly Halls, she was beautiful.

A few feet from him, Jhara said goodbye to her father, rehearsed but sincere. The mehterani's music ebbed away as she faced her mother, who lifted her veil and exposed a garland of minuscule white desert roses dipped so low on her chest that it showed a hint of her bosom.

Sebastian looked away, his eyes landing on the train and its diamonds forming the figures of a horse and a tiger standing underneath the broad canopy of a sycamore tree. No expenses had been spared. He scanned the room—still no Lana or Sahabi. Where were they?

His heart pounded as Jhara joined his side, taller than she had ever been but still not reaching much beyond his shoulder. He smiled at her; she didn't smile back. Suddenly, he wished he had paid attention to the wedding ceremonies instead of losing himself in his own thoughts. Other than vague memories, he had no idea what to expect.

Queen Rainah beckoned the assembly to take their seat. There was some shuffling, mumbling, and the occasional cough.

All eyes will be on the bride anyway, Cyrus had said. The words didn't help; Sebastian could still feel the judging of a thousand penetrating gazes between his shoulder blades. The lump in his throat was still there.

"Welcome, travels from far and wide," Queen Rainah said. "I gladly receive you in my palace for this wonderful occasion, a wedding such as Scoria hasn't seen in hundreds of years. A union of red and green, of tiger and sycamore, of the southern continent and the north. Today, my daughter, Princess Jhara bint Cyrus, second Lady of Scoria, shall bind the eternal knot with Prince Sebastian, son of Lord Brandon, and Crown Prince of The Greenlands. Scorian and Greenlander soil shall meet as the young couple opens their hearts to themselves and the Gods They shall break the arrows to atone for their sins, after which they shall be knotted and bled."

Bleeding? Sebastian shot his eyes towards Jhara, but she stared straight ahead, calmer and more regal than he was. Did Aunt Crystal and Uncle Tom agree to this? Wasn't the whole purpose of having his wedding in Alburkhan to minimise the risk of getting hurt?

The black-and-white sleeves of the priest opened like a butterfly. "To symbolise the union of our lands, our princesses have brought an offering for the Gods," he announced.

Sebastian turned back to the aisle as the mehterani set in a clashing though swinging rhythm, a blend of Scorian microtones and the Greenlander ballroom waltz. 

At the back of the dome, Lana and Sahabi appeared side-by-side. Both were holding a terracotta bowl, out of which, strands of smoke rose up. 

Sahabi was wearing the same type of lace dress as her mother, though more streamlined and without the turquoise train. Lana was dressed in Greenlander green, pearls adorning her dress, ears and neck. Her tiara spiked with branches of the sycamore tree. On her wrist glinted the bracelet of the Winter Bear and the Summer Dragon chasing each other.

Lana set the smouldering bowl in front of Jhara, then kneeled. "I present to you a burning log from an oak tree as old as Regal Sun Wood. Hand-cut by my father, cleaned by my mother. They send their blessings for your marriage to my cousin, Sebastian."

"I thank you for this log. May our union be as sturdy as the wood that guarded your land," Jhara responded.

Sahabi set her bowl in front of Sebastian. She too kneeled. "This rock was formed by the fires of the Diligent volcano. It was gifted to me on my last journey to Markudya, and I wish you to have it, as a blessing for your marriage to my sister, Jhara."

"I thank you for this rock," he responded. His lips were dry—what else did he have to say? "May... May the fire ignite our hearts and temper the sins of our soul." He slanted a smile at her. Or something.

The girls placed the pots behind him and Jhara, the sides touching, before joining the rest of the Scorian royal family at the front. In the meantime, the priest waved incense in circles around him and Jhara.

One of the Queen's tigers sneezed.

Sebastian chuckled. And so did Jhara. The Jade Sea blue shadows around her eyes sparkled as she crinkled them in laughter. He shuffled closer to her.

The Scorian folk tunes battled with the sweeping waltz, leading to a crescendo, after which the notes faded until only their echoes and a faint drumming noise remained.

An acolyte in white offered a desert-coloured jug to the priest, who blessed the content by tracing the figure of the seven-pointed star in the air.

Then the man looked at them, saying, "Lord Sebastian, Princess Jhara, today starts a new chapter in history, but also in your personal lives. While the powers and duties of statesmanship are not foreign to you, marriage comes with great responsibilities too. In the next few years, you must strive to build a welcoming home where your souls are balanced and at ease. To help the light heart become a loving heart, I must ask you to confess your sins, break the burden that comes with them, and let the water wash you clean."

The duo of flutes started then were joined by a third, brassier one and a pounding military rhythm of the drums. A second acolyte, in black, came with a carmine pillow, on which a short, ornate bow with a horse's head for a grip and two thin, silverish arrows.

The priest said, "When you are ready, take your weapon, face the crowd and declare your crimes, for all of Alburkhan and all the heavens to hear."

Jhara looked at him, and he looked back at her, softly shaking his head. She had warned him to prepare for this moment, not just once but every day since his arrival. He could hold a speech for the rest of the afternoon and still not be done, but they were sins he did not wish to share, not unless he intended to start a war with Scoria too.

"I go first," Jhara told the priest. 

Accompanied by the trio of flute, she took the bow from the pillow, nocked on the arrow before facing the crowd, her head tilted towards the spherical ceiling with no end. Parts of her train wrapped around her feet, and she faltered.

He stretched out his hand to keep her from falling. "Be careful."

"I got this," she said in a low voice, stern yet friendly.

Her gloved hand touched his wrist. He let go.

"I stand before you, asking forgiveness from the Goddess of Charity and Kindness. For far too long, I have been tempted by the Gods of Greed and Envy, for each time my brother and sister showed more skill in battle, for each time they got a nicer garment or more attention from Ummi and Abah. I shall speak more to the Goddesses before criticising my husband—that I swear."

The horizontal harp plucked around the other instruments like fireflies as Jhara aimed at the empty corner of the room, then released the string. The arrow soared a good twenty feet away before it landed on the tiles.

Out of the other corner, Dana leapt up on all fours. The Queen's cats yawned or squinted their eyes as the young tiger passed in all his enthusiasm. He picked up the arrow, clenched the shaft between his teeth, then darted towards Sebastian.

He shuffled backwards, still not trusting the three-hundred-pound predator and its limb-ripping fangs. The tiger dropped the arrow by his feet.

Sebastian picked up the slimy, already cracked dart. With little effort, he broke it into two. "And thus I forgive you," he proclaimed to Jhara.

The priest sprinkled water from the jug into her face. "And thus, Princess Jhara Bint Cyrus, you have been cleaned."

Then the man gesticulated at him.

After taking the bow from Jhara and grabbing the arrow, Sebastian twisted on the heel of his boot. He scanned the room in search of Alex. So many men and women he didn't care about, and the one person he wanted near him, had been stuffed somewhere at the back, some place he couldn't see her. This was taking too long; he couldn't find her. Deaf to the music, his heart pounding in his ears, he opened his mouth. 

His tongue refused to speak. Fox had become a monster because of him. If he hadn't sent that assassin to kill him, if he had done more for the acceptance of magicians, he would be a brother and a friend instead of the man who wouldn't rest until he was dead. Sci would still be alive, and with her the thousands fighting in his name against the mages of the north.

"I..." he stuttered. "I... I stand before you, asking forgiveness from the God... the Goddess of Humility and the God of Patience." He finally found the white-haired pirate; Alex sat at the edge of the same row. He could tell her—it was easier to tell her. "The Temptations of Pride and Wrath are not unheard of for those who know my tales. I have disobeyed orders, run away from home, and too often have been my uncle's greatest critic. By my hands, people who ought to have lived died, and neither did I manage to save those who should have lived. But most of all, my sins chased away my friends. I pushed them aside when I needed them the most, when they needed me the most. I shall draw strength from the everlasting loyalty of my longest childhood companion and be a loyal friend to my wife—that I swear."

Alex buried her head in her hand as the pirates turned their head towards her. A few gasps erupted from the crowd. Sebastian splayed his fingers and swallowed while loading the bow.  The harp buzzed, and the flutes appeared sharp. What had he said?

Murmurs echoed through the dome as he pulled the string back, then let the arrow fly. Dana sprinted as though he had thrown meat for him to snack on. He returned, proud as a peacock, with the arrow behind his fangs.

Jhara crushed the arrow. She moved her lips but didn't say the words, just darted him a look of scorn.

"What?" he mouthed at her.

A few speckles of saltwater landed on his cheeks. The priest seemed in a rush to move on, so Sebastian laid the bow back on the pillow, after which the acolyte disappeared in the shadows behind the empty throne.

"What?" Sebastian motioned his arm

She didn't respond, and Lana was her stoic self. David was equally confused, though the Alafin was whispering something into his ear.

Sebastian tried one last time. "Did I offend you?" 

"Now everybody thinks you're in love with the Greenlander Pirate Lady," Jhara hissed.

"I'm not. We're friends," Sebastian insisted. "I only meant that you should become my wife and my friend."

"You shouldn't have mentioned another woman. Not today. Not right now."

In the back, the priest was preparing the cloth woven from red Scorian silk and deep-green Greenlander linen.

"Then that is the sin I ask your forgiveness for," Sebastian said.

"You already gave your mumbling, stuttering speech," she spat, more disappointment than the God of Wrath climbing on her back.

"But this one especially for you."

She bit her lip.

He took her hand. "Look, I'm a Greenlander Muttonhead who hardly paid any attention to the preparation of this ceremony. You asked me a few days ago whether I would ever be able to love you. I said I didn't know, but the answer should be that I want to try—I want to make us work. I want to be your friend, your lover, and your partner."

"And thus I forgive you," she said as the sternness in her eyes melted. She closed her hand around his.

The priest's butterfly sleeves waved in front of them, abruptly ending their private moment. 

"We shall rise for the Greenlander binding of the knot and the signing of the contract in blood," the man said, after which a wave of chairs scraping, and flat feet and heels stomping the floor passed through the hall.

Sebastian and Jhara were standing closer than they had ever been. He looked down on her, past his reflection in the ruby stone and straight into those mysterious dark eyes. In a few moments, she would be his wife until either of them died. He couldn't fathom it yet, but he would try his best.

Seven times over, the priest spun the cloth around their hands, then he bound the remaining fabric into a knot. "Prince Sebastian, son of Lord Brandon and Crown Prince of The Greenlands, do you—in fear of the Gods' weighing and before this gathering take Princess Jhara bint Cyrus, second Lady of Scoria, to be your wife, promising, through divine assistance be her loving and faithful husband until the Gods call you to their Heavenly Halls."

"I do," Sebastian said.

The priest tapped the knot.

"Princess Jhara bint Cyrus, second Lady of Scoria, do you—in fear of the Gods' weighing and before this gathering take Prince Sebastian, son of Lord Brandon and Crown Prince of The Greenlands, to be your husband, promising, through divine assistance be his loving and faithful wife until the Gods call you to their Heavenly Halls."

Jhara flashed her eyelashes at him. "I do."

The acolyte who had presented the arrows now stood by the priest with a golden dagger. But before the man could fetch the weapon, Sebastian stopped him.

"I want it to be my father's dagger," he said.

The priest exchanged a look with the Queen, who nodded.

Sebastian turned to his side to allow the priest to reach for the weapon. The man dipped it into the same jug of saltwater that he had used for sprinkling drops of water. In the meantime, the acolyte in white came with a book stand on which a parchment scroll laid. The text repeated their vows. At the bottom, there was room for four signatures: his own, Jhara's, the priest's and the Queen's.

Still keeping his left hand in the knot, Sebastian offered the index finger of his right hand. The priest made a swift cut into the tip of his finger. As a drop of blood pulsated out, the acolyte moved the stand towards him.

Sebastian signed a giant letter S and ended with a smaller B, after which the priest stood ready with the jug to clean the wound. Jhara repeated the ritual, as did the Queen, and finally, the priest himself.

While one of the acolytes cut the knot loose, the priest held the scroll up for the crowd to see. "By the sacred power vested in me, and with you and this blood as witnesses, I proclaim Prince Sebastian and Princess Jhara husband and wife." The man looked up at Sebastian, then said with a nod, "You may kiss the bride."

As he leant into her, the crowd erupted into cheers and whistling that came—without a doubt—from the pirates. He closed his eyes as their lips touched, hesitant yet without a tremble. Her lipstick tasted of fat and copperish ochre. She placed her hand on the nape of his neck.

"Hello, wife," he said to her.

"Hello, husband."