Free Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) by Christine Pope

to break as I fully comprehended for the first time what that firm grip on my fingers meant.
    There had been no last-minute rescues, no divine intervention. For better or worse, I was now wed to Kadar Arkalis.
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    O f course I would not be allowed to retire quietly. No, a great feast and celebration was held in the castle’s main hall, where I found myself marveling a little at the household staff’s ability to put together such an important event in so short an amount of time. Perhaps by the loftier Sirlendian standards the feast might have been considered meager, consisting as it did of only three courses, and there was little in the way of flowers, although garlands of autumn leaves decked the high table and the doorways and windows. Still, all in all it was quite a respectable show.
    I sat next to Kadar and forced myself to smile and nod as well-wishers approached to offer their congratulations. While I wanted nothing more than to plead a headache and disappear, I knew the Mark would never accept such an excuse. At least he was so occupied in responding to the outpouring of felicitations that he paid scant attention to me. As was to be expected, I supposed. Now that he had accomplished his nefarious goal, I probably held little interest for him.
    The food might have been good, but I would have been hard-pressed to say for sure. It all tasted like sawdust. And although the wine tempted me with its promise of easy oblivion, I forced myself to take only measured sips. I would never forgive myself if I somehow missed a chance at escape simply because I was too intoxicated to recognize it at the time.
    Escape . What a foolish, vain thought. For now I was Kadar Arkalis’ wife, and he had every right to come after me and imprison me in his castle. Even if I should somehow find the means to slip away, any freedom I gained would be short-lived at best. I was his property now.
    I thought then of the doomed Soraya, Duchess of Donrath, who had flung herself from the highest tower of her husband’s keep the night of her own forced marriage. Hers made a suitably tragic tale, perfect for songs and poetry, but I knew I would not have the strength to do such a thing. No, I would meekly lower my head and allow Kadar to…
    A tremor passed over me, and I reached for my wine glass and took a bigger swallow than I had intended. I knew something of the relations between men and women, since my mother, in her particular no-nonsense way, had been rather frank on the subject. No blissful, girlish ignorance for me. I knew all too well what awaited me once this feast was over.
    At least my doom would be somewhat delayed, as the festivities showed no sign of abating once the meal was done. No, the dishes were cleared and the tables whisked away, while a group of musicians took their places at one end of the hall.
    “If you will allow me?” Kadar said, extending one hand.
    As I could hardly refuse, I laid my hand on his and allowed him to lead me to a spot a few paces away from the musicians. I noted that there were viols and drums and an odd, flat device with strings stretched across it and which its master appeared to manipulate with a small set of hammer-like instruments.
    The wedding guests fell into place below us, forming a long line with men on one side and women on the other. Indeed, there were so many who wished to dance that a second set formed a few yards away. I watched in some trepidation, as the dances I had learned back home from my friend Maris’s dancing master were of the Sirlendian style, which meant they were performed in circles, not in lines. No doubt I would make a complete fool of myself trying to keep up with the unfamiliar steps.
    “They always start out slowly,” Kadar told me. His eyes glinted with amusement…at my discomfiture, no doubt. “The musicians know they must needs give the guests time to digest.”
    “Thank goodness.”
    After a bit of preliminary plucking and tuning, the musicians struck the