Ali Gamal's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

The wedding filled Dracula's great hall. Ali stood at the altar in his gold and orange robes. Carmilla walked toward him in black lace, a veil three miles long trailing behind her. She wore the color of the Mother's own marriage. The whole court understood the message. Carmilla was placing herself beside the throne. And every daylight stone in Walachia now bent toward her hand. Ali watched her come. He had spent the week searching for a way out. He had found nothing that would break the marriage. But a marriage was a contract. Contracts had terms. If he could not escape the vow, he could set its price before he spoke it. Dracula stood between them to bind the oath. His gold dragon gleamed on his chest. "Speak your vows," the king said. Ali spoke first. "I take the countess as my wife. I give her my house and my name." He paused. "I do not give her my work. My daylight craft stays mine. This I swear before the king." The hall went quiet. Carmilla's red eyes narrowed. "That was not our bargain," she said. "It is now," Ali said. "You wanted the hero of Walachia. Take him. The craft is not part of the dowry." Carmilla turned to Dracula. She began to speak, her voice low and warm, the voice she used to move nobles. Ali braced against it. But the Mother stepped forward from the dais. Her white veil poured across the floor behind her. She had watched the whole rite in silence. Now she raised one hand, and Carmilla's words died in her throat. "The daylight is my working too," the Mother said. Her voice was quiet and flat. "I wove the rune that makes it run. It answers to me and to Ali. Not to a bride." She looked at Carmilla. "You may sit beside the throne. You will not sit inside his workshop." Dracula considered them both. He weighed the countess against the woman who hid his kingdom from the world. Then he nodded once. "The vow stands as spoken," Dracula said. "The countess gains a husband and a seat. The craft remains with the maker and the Mother. It is done." Carmilla's face did not change, but her hand closed hard on her veil. She took Ali's arm and finished the rite. Married. Bound. But the sun no longer sat in her grip. When the feast began, the Mother drew Ali aside. "You bought your freedom for now," she said. "She will not forget it. And she still shares your name and your house. She will find another road to what she wants." She held his eyes. "So will I need you sooner than planned. The White Domnitor's blood is drying up. Every stone in Walachia will go dark within the month." Ali had kept his work. Now he had less time than ever to make it his own.