“Right, then.” Griflet hands us each a hot, steaming mug of tea. “A
royal wedding. Customarily, the gods demand a sacrifice of a dozen wild
boars and the release of five hundred white pigeons. I don’t have any of
those on hand.” He drops down into a wooden chair across from us. Next to
him stands a rough-hewn table strewn with papers.
Talan leans back, utterly relaxed, and drapes one arm over the back of
the sofa. Even seated, his powerful presence dominates the room.
Sometimes, I get the sense that the whole world exists for his entertainment.
“We don’t have time for the boars and birds.” Talan’s deep voice thrums
over my skin. “My father means to arrange for my marriage tomorrow,
whether I’m there or not.”
I clear my throat. Here’s my chance for a delay. “On the other hand, we
can’t afford not to. If Auberon realizes we skipped the boars and the
pigeons, he could pronounce that we aren’t truly married. Surely we want to
follow the ancient traditions for members of the royal family.”
“Five hundred pigeons?” Talan narrows his eyes at me. “Do you have
any idea how long it would take to organize that?”
“Lady Nia is quite right,” Griflet says, gripping his little leather bag like
his life depends on it. “Of course, this is all quite symbolic. We could try to
perform the ritual with something symbolizing the pigeons and the wild
boars.”
“Like what?” Talan asks.
“Well, the intent is a sacrifice. We could, for example, sacrifice some
finely baked biscuits and release a chicken from my coop.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
Griflet nods wildly. “Yes, yes. I’m always serious when it comes to the
gods. The ancient texts permit me some leeway. It’s about the intent, you
see.”
“Excellent.” Talan runs his tongue over one of his sharp canines. “Let’s
sacrifice the biscuits.”
Griflet