Tris took Kiara's hand as they stepped out of the carriage. His boots crunched on the snow as they made their way toward the temple of the Lady. Every betrothed couple in Margolan made an offering before taking their vows, although few made the pilgrimage to the Lady's temple. They were more likely to bring their offerings to the small shrines that dotted the roadsides or to a household altar. The king's options weren't so simple.

Deceptively thin white marble arches soared skyward, their peaks creating a jagged silhouette against the pale pink sunrise. On either side of the entrance stood two larger-than-life alabaster statues: one to the Mother and one to the Childe. Underneath the arches, water cascaded down shoulder-high marble walls; in the bitter cold, Tris could detect the hint of magic that kept the water flowing smoothly. Through the double archway was an outer chamber where the guards would wait. As they stepped through the archway the temperature warmed, and again Tris sensed the magic that served the temple, though the Lady's acolytes were out of sight. They set aside their heavy cloaks. Banks of candles lit the inner room. The soft sound of flowing water filled the room, from a large central fountain that sent its waters down eight sloping marble levels and into a clear main pool.

For this ceremony, Kiara was dressed in the Margolan fashion, with a shimmering dark blue gown that accentuated her waist. The bodice was modest by court standards, and at her throat was a golden pendant in the shape of the Lady's symbol. Full satin sleeves billowed at the shoulder, pinched back in at the elbow then flared out in wide cuffs. A jeweled belt made a Y at her hip line and the entire gown sparkled with pearls and gold. In Kiara's dark hair, strands of gold and small gems glittered in the candlelight. A shy smile touched the corners of her lips, and Tris knew that his appreciation was apparent in his face.

Soterius held out a basket woven of gold and silver and covered with a cloth of rich brocade to Tris, and gave a similar basket to Kiara. The baskets held the symbolic gifts they would present to the Lady for Her blessing. Tris could feel his heart thudding as they stepped forward toward the doors that separated the inner temple from the outer court.

Guards opened the heavy wooden doors. As she crossed the threshold, Kiara made a deep curtsey. Tris paused at the doorway and sank to one knee, bowing his head. He stretched out his mage sense and felt the nearness of the Lady's presence. In the front of the inner temple were two large statues of the Mother and Childe. Four banks of candles flickered and glowed around the walls, and torches flared in elaborate sconces on each pillar. Above them soared a high ceiling that rose to the tallest peaks of the arches. The morning sun streamed in brilliant colors through panes of multicolored glass, making a garden on the stone floor of the sacred space. Winter-blooming flowers filled large vases around the sides of the round room, mixed with branches from evergreen trees. The scent of floral incense hung in the air, rising in smoke from ornate burners in front of each statue. A large crystal basin filled with water stood in the center between the statues on a golden pedestal.

In front of the crystal basin was a stone altar covered with complex Noorish inlay. Even from a distance, Tris could feel magic that beckoned for him to follow it to the quiet spaces of power.

Kiara made a low curtsey to each statue. She bowed her head in silent prayer. At last she raised both hands, palms up. "Mother and Childe, most gracious of the Aspects, accept my gifts and hear my wedding prayers."

Kiara withdrew a loaf of uncut bread from the basket. Her hands shook. "For my household and for this land, bread enough for all." Next, she withdrew a cruet of wine and a flagon of goat's blood and set them beside the bread. "For all in Margolan, living and undead, drink sufficient for their needs." She withdrew a gold coin and a small sheaf of wheat. "May our trade be prosperous and our harvest plentiful." Kiara reached into the basket and took out an egg and a small caged rabbit. Tris saw a blush come to her cheeks. "May the Lady bless our household, our people, and our herds with new life."

Tris squared his shoulders and moved to the right side of the altar. He sank to one knee, head bowed. "Mother and Childe, accept my offering on the day of my wedding vows."

His mouth was dry, and his stomach was tight. I've fought dark wizards and faced down murdering ghosts. How can my own wedding have me in such a state? Carefully, he withdrew his sword, laying the flat of the blade on his open palms. "I pledge my sword, in defense of my kingdom, my bride, and my family." As he laid the sword on the altar, the intricate runes etched along its blade burst into fiery letters.

Tris lifted his circlet crown from his head and placed it on the altar next to his sword. "A blessing, m'Lady, on the House of Margolan. May my reign be long and peaceful, and may no harm come to my house or to my people." Next from the basket he pulled a polished ram's horn. "May Margolan prosper, and may our herds multiply and our children be many." He could feel spirits gathering around them as he spoke the ancient litany, ghosts that lingered just outside his mage sight, drawn to the strength of his magic like moths to flame. He formed a ball of mage fire between his hands and offered it on the altar. "May my gift forever serve Margolan. May it protect my people and all those I hold dear." Drawing a deep breath, he withdrew a candle from the basket and set it on the altar.

"If it please the Lady, Mother and Childe, accept our gifts and show favor on your servants."

Tris could feel the press of spirits. A sudden wind stirred. The wind became stronger, whipping his white blond hair into his eyes and pulling at the full sleeves of his shirt. The candle on the altar burst into flame—not the wick itself, but the entire candle, so bright that Tris had to avert his eyes. In the crystal basin, droplets of water rose into the air and danced above the surface.

As suddenly as they began, the winds stopped. The candle on the altar was dark, and the waters in the basin were still.

"I think our gifts were accepted," Kiara said in a voice that edged between fear and awe.

Tris made a last bow to each of the statues. He retrieved his sword and took back his circlet from the altar. Then he took Kiara's arm and they walked together toward the antechamber, where Soterius and the others waited.

"Did you get a sign from the Lady?" Soterius asked.

"You could say that."

The bitter cold jolted- them as they stepped out of the grotto's magical warmth. Snow glistened and a flock of birds roused from a nearby tree, filling the sky. Tris was glad to get back to the carriage. "One ceremony down— one more to go."

Kiara wrapped her hands around his. "Like Jonmarc says, you do know how to put on a show."

"I really had nothing to do with what happened in there."

"I know. But if you were looking for a sign, that was pretty clear."

Tris shook his head and looked out the window. "The sign was clear, but the meaning never is. Grandmother was wary of taking signs as divine messages. It's dangerous to count on them."

The carriage and its guards left the temple grounds, heading back to Shekerishet. The road ran through an old section of the forest, where ancient trees towered and the underbrush had long died back in the heavy shade. Pounding hoof beats behind them roused Tris and Kiara in alarm.

"Keep the carriage moving!" Soterius shouted. From behind them stormed black-clad riders, their faces covered by cloth. Tris and Kiara were thrown back against the seat as the driver snapped the reins and set the horses into a gallop. On the hills around them, Tris could hear the clang of steel and the cries of battle. Vyrkin howled. He drew his sword.