Rosse and my parents went to the altar to accept Cecile’s pledge. She made a grand entrance, descending the staircase to the ringing of silver bells. Her gown was blue and green, with elaborate sleeves that nearly reached the floor and an embroidered blue train that trailed several steps behind her. Every single woman in the room wore a bracelet of tiny bells, and they raised them over their heads and shook them merrily as the bride descended. Her parents followed her down the stairs. Between them they bore a large basket. As they passed through the crowd, people surged forward to toss in jingling handfuls of coins to wish the young couple wealth in their lives. Among our class, it was merely a charming tradition. Among the lower classes, such an offering might furnish the couple with a goat or a few chickens and truly become a foundation for later wealth.

Rosse and Cecile had chosen a simple ritual for their ceremony. The day was beginning to warm, and I’m sure I was not the only guest who was grateful that we would not be required to stand in witness for too long.

Their fathers exchanged pledges of friendship and loyalty first, and then their mothers exchanged vows to comfort, help, and refrain from gossip. I stood stoically through them. But when Cecile and Rosse made their pledges of loyalty, trust, and mutual faithfulness, my throat constricted and tears pricked my eyes. I do not know if I wanted to weep because Carsina had betrayed our fledgling love or for my scratched pride. This moment with Carsina should have been mine, I thought fiercely. It should have been a memory that we would cherish through our years together. Instead, I would have to remember always that she had forsaken me at this moment. I set my teeth and forced my lips into a rubbery smile, and when I wiped a tear from my eye, I told myself that everyone who observed it would think it was a tear of joy at my brother’s good fortune.

Rosse and Cecile shared the tiny cake of bitter herbs followed by the more generous honey cake that represented the bad and the good times that they would share. Then they turned from the altar and lifted their joined hands. The gathered witnesses erupted with cries of joy and congratulations and the musicians on the dais awoke their instruments. As lively and celebratory music filled the ballroom, the guests cleared the floor and formed a circle for Cecile and Rosse. My brother had never been a graceful dancer, so he must have practiced quite a bit to perform as well as he did. Not once did he step on Cecile’s trailing blue train. At the end of the dance, he swept her up in his arms and spun around and around as he held her, making her sleeves and train fly out around them, much to the delight of the onlookers. A single misstep would have sent bride and groom tumbling to the floor, but he managed to set his giddy bride squarely on her feet. Flushed and laughing, they bowed to their audience.

Then came the most important part of the ceremony, not just for Rosse and Cecile but for both families as well. My father and Lord Poronte broke the seals on the congratulatory scrolls that had come from King Troven. As all the gathered folk expected, the scrolls contained a substantial land grant to each family to “celebrate the joyous union of two of my most loyal noble families, and with fond wishes that both your houses will continue to flourish.” The land allotted to the Burvelle holdings increased our holdings by a third. The satisfaction on my father’s face shone. I could almost see him totting up how much additional acreage the king would gift him as each of his other four children married. I suddenly realized that this was how King Troven encouraged alliances between the new noble houses, thus keeping their loyalty safely in his pocket.

“Please join us in dancing and feasting!” Cecile invited her guests, and to a loud burst of applause, all did just that. The doors to the adjacent dining room were opened wide, to reveal long tables. I was not near the doors, yet I was abruptly aware of the savory aromas of the fresh breads and roasted meats and sweet fruit tarts. A wedding in our part of the country was an all-day celebration. When one traveled long distances for such an event, the host endeavored to make it memorable. The talk and dancing and eating would continue all day at the Porontes’ home. Servants would be kept busy constantly replenishing the tables. Many of the guests would spend the night with the Porontes, and then join us at our home tomorrow for a second day of socializing and feasting. At one time, I had anticipated a merry occasion, and had planned several opportunities to be alone with Carsina. I had even imagined stealing a kiss or two. Now I dreaded several days of torment. My stomach growled at me urgently. I listened to it in horror, as if a monster had taken up residence in my flesh and demanded sustenance. I tried to tell myself that I was too saddened to be hungry, but my belly asserted otherwise. The sight of Kase Remwar leading Carsina to the dance floor only reinforced the emptiness I felt. I was famished, I discovered, and trembling with hunger. Never before had my sense of smell seemed so keen. From where I stood, I could tell that the prairie fowl had been roasted with sage and onion, and that the lamb had been prepared Plainsman-fashion, rubbed with wild celery root and cooked in a pot with a tight lid. I thought it the limit of my self-control that I walked around the edge of the dance floor rather than elbowing my way through the dancers to reach the food.

Halfway around the room, I encountered my father talking to Carsina’s father. Lord Grenalter was laughing at something my father had just said. They both seemed very jovial and convivial. I’d intended to slip past them unacknowledged. But as Grenalter drew breath from laughing, our eyes met. Courtesy forced me to greet him. I stopped, bowed to him, and then, as I advanced, he said, quite loudly, “Good god’s breath, Burvelle! Is that Nevare?”

“I’m afraid so,” my father said levelly. His look told me I was a fool for having called attention to myself. He forced a grin to his face. “I think the academy doctor went too far in putting flesh back on him after the plague. He’ll soon have it off, if I have anything so say about it.”

And what could I do, save grin shamefacedly and agree? “Very soon, sir,” I assured him. And then, lying through my teeth, I added, “The doctor told me that a temporary weight gain like this is not unknown among plague survivors. He told me that I should be grateful to have gone this way, rather than lost flesh and stamina.”

“Well…I’m sure the doctor would know what he is talking about. Still. It is a startling change, Nevare, as I’m sure you know.” Lord Grenalter seemed determined to make me admit that the transformation was horrifying.

“Yes, sir, it is that. Thankfully, as I’ve said, it is temporary.”

“Well. I suppose we should thank the good god for your health, and never mind the rest for now.”

“Yes, sir. I do that every morning when I awaken alive. It’s not a thing a man takes for granted, once he has experienced the plague.”

“Was it very bad, then, in the city?”

And I was pathetically grateful to horrify the poor man with a lurid telling of just how bad it had been. When I spoke of the dead stacked like cordwood on the snowy grounds, I realized that even my father was listening to me. So I deliberately told, with genuine sorrow, of my fellows whose health had broken so badly that they would never soldier at all, let alone continue a career at the academy. I finished with, “And so, of course, ungainly as I find myself at present, you can understand why I am grateful to have come through the experience with my future intact. And with Colonel Rebin in charge of the academy once more, I anticipate continuing my studies with more pleasure than ever.”

“A remarkable tale! And did they ever find what wayward son of a dog brought plague to Old Thares?” Carsina’s father was completely in thrall to my tale now.