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I looked at Trian knowing it was true.
    “Yes.”
    “Today we
shall see if God respects your offering, a son of King Dauid's
blood.” She touched the edge of the bed beside the stain.
    “It is our
hope.”
    “Perhaps our
only. That dress will not do.” She snapped her fingers and
one of our maids dashed to her. She sprinted from the room then, and
my mother stepped forward. “This was not the way I would have
it, but your decision is the best that is offered. I had much the
same thoughts last night as I slept. Now let us make you a Queen.

    I took a deep
breath, walking silently through the castle, the dress my mother had
been crowned in fit snugly against my body, red with green trim. My
hair was brushed and coiled back into her very first and very
elaborate crown. It was beautiful, powerful, lovely. Symbolic.
    My father's
clothing from that day had been brought forth as well, altered
quickly and efficiently to fit the form of my Trian. He set me
astride a beautiful white mare, and climbed astride a matching
stallion. The gown was spread out behind me, a simple white fur wrap
covered my shoulders.
    “My Lady, are
you ready?”
    “My Captain,
yes.”
    The gates to the
castle opened upon my city, and we rode forth just as dawn was
breaking.
    The trumpets blared
wedding songs as we rode silently through the city, our people came
out en masse, armored, and ready for battle. This was a bold move, I
knew, but as soon as we had been dressed and met with the council it
was declared it would be the best way. Let their be no doubt.
    The trumpets were
loud, playing the song over and over, and my people crowded into the
courtyards as I mounted the steps, toward the wall facing the army,
my husband holding my arm. My mother was standing at the top of the
steps beside the priest, the first time she wore something other than
black, but she would not remind anyone of my father in a way of
mourning. When I stepped up, I could practically hear Conchobor's
scream of fury, realizing that the wedding trumpets were not for him
and I.
    Archer's lined the
walls, ready to shoot should any step forward.
    The priest was a
young man, chosen for his loud and booming voice. He began the vows
quickly, making no speeches of happiness, simply stating the things
that must be spoken.
    “CATAPULTS!”
I heard Conchobor's voice ring as the priest hurried through his
statements.
    “Hurry, damn
it, hurry!” Bran whispered behind Trian, bouncing softly on his
toes, his eyes looking out at the army and back to us.
    “I do, I vow
to honor and uphold Jesmaine and the crown,” Trian said loudly.
    The priest spoke
quickly, but I could only hear the creaking of the catapults as they
moved through the ranks toward the front. I could see people
hurrying to light huge bonfires on the front lines. I knew there
would soon be hurtles of flaming balls in the air.
    “I do,”
I said, despite not hearing the priest's words. “I vow to
respect, obey, honor and uphold the king of my heart and the crown,
Trian.”
    I made eye contact
with Trian for the first time in that moment and it was as though the
world fell away.
    I slid my ring onto
his finger, and he slid his onto mine. Then at the beckoning of the
Priest we kissed. It was brief, it had to be for the first catapult
shot fired, the wood striking wood and a flaming ball hurtling toward
the city.
    “I love you,”
he said quickly.
    I smiled, “Aye,
I love you, too.”
    There were loud
trumpets again, but this time as a call to arms. The flaming ball
had struck outside the walls.
    Trian dashed down
the stairs we had come up, and I feared by this night I may never see
my husband and love again. I watched him take up his mount again in
front of the nearly 200 cavalry we had within the city walls.
    In that moment I
saw the banners of the Baron. Bran had received a message near
midnight from a messenger that he and an army nearly 1500 strong was
over the ridge, encircling the Crown Prince, and more were on