Chapter 23: The Wedding He Asked For

The Ember Keep had guests for the second wedding.

Her mother sat in the front row in blue, and the old steward stood behind her chair with a book held together by string.

The captain had shaved.

The cook had come out of her kitchen in a clean apron and stood weeping openly by the door.

Thirty lords of the council crowded in at the back, and Perrin stood among them, last in the row, with his hat against his chest.

Sorrel walked up the black hall alone.

She wore a gown of green wool the color of her herb garden, with her hair loose to her waist.

She was not afraid.

Ronan stood at the hearth with the fire behind him.

He was not in the dark any more.

The grey on his face had pulled back to a line along the jaw.

When she reached him, his eyes were wholly gold.

"You are late," he said, low.

"You are early."

"I have been early for six years."

The steward cleared his throat and opened the book.

"We have already heard the vows once, Your Grace," he said.

"Then we will hear them better."

Sorrel put her hands in Ronan's.

"I was given to you on a scroll," she said. "I want it said in front of these people that I chose to sign it."

"I heard you."

"I would choose to sign it again."

A murmur went through the hall.

Ronan's thumbs moved over her knuckles.

"I made you a rule in this room," he said, "and I made it because I did not believe you would stay."

"I know."

"I give it up. I will touch you whenever you want me to, and whenever I cannot help it, and the second does not require you to ask."

Somebody coughed hard at the back, trying not to laugh.

Her mother's shoulders shook.

"I give you my name," Ronan said. "I give you my fire, which will not burn you."

"I give you my crown, which you may wear or leave on the table."

"And I give you more letters. I will say them to your face."

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