Prince Cerik Ellison's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

That night, Marco didn't come to walk Cerik to his father. Cerik found him instead, standing between two flower-wrapped pillars in the open hall, jaw tight, hands folded like a man on duty. But his eyes were wrong. He wouldn't look up. "We're late," Cerik said. "He's waiting." "I've been thinking." Marco's voice was flat. "You're a prince. I open doors. If I stand next to you tonight, your father sees what I am. And then he sees what you'd be marrying." He shook his head once. "I won't shame you. I'll step down as your guard. Find you someone he'll accept." Cerik's chest went cold. Without Marco beside him, there was no marriage to argue for. The whole plan died right here, on Marco's fear. "So you'll decide for me," Cerik said. "You'll walk out and call it kindness." "It is kindness." Cerik didn't beg. He reached into his skirt and pulled out a small silver box. He opened it between them. Inside sat two rings, a plain silver band and one crowned with a blue opal heart. Marco stared at them. His hands unfolded. "I bought these three days ago," Cerik said. "Before you confessed. Before I even knew you'd say yes. I paid for a wedding I might never get, because I already knew who I wanted at the end of it." He held the box up. "You think you're a gift I have to explain to my father. You're not. You're the one thing I chose without asking him." Marco's throat moved. "He'll look at me and see the help." "Then he'll look at me and see me smiling anyway." Cerik took the silver band out. He picked up Marco's hand. It shook. "Wear it in front of him. Not to argue. Just so he knows it's already done in here." He pressed the band into Marco's palm and closed his fingers over it. Eilrie padded across the pale stone floor and sat between their feet. She looked up at Marco, tail curled, patient, like she was waiting on his answer too. Marco looked at the cat. Then at the ring in his fist. Something in his shoulders let go. "If he sends me away," Marco said, "I'm not going quiet." "Good," Cerik said. "Neither am I." Marco slid the silver band onto his own finger. He didn't fold his hands again. He offered Cerik his arm instead, stiff, unpracticed, but there. Cerik took it. The plan was alive again, and now it wore a ring. They walked out of the flowered hall together toward his father's study. Eilrie trotted ahead of them. At the end of the corridor, a door stood shut. Behind it, Don Varelli waited, still believing his favorite son would marry someone worthy. He was about to learn otherwise.