Fable: Edge of the World Read Free Page B

a smile that made his heart leap. The dusky golden brown of her skin and her ebony tresses contrasted with the creamy white of the formal gown. In her hands, she held a bouquet of native, riotously colorful Auroran blossoms.
    Walking behind her as her maid of honor was the only true Bowerstone native besides the king himself—Page. She resembled Laylah slightly although her skin was much darker, her features fuller, and her long hair tightly braided in rows. The leader of the Bowerstone Resistance during Logan’s reign, Page had taken a great deal of convincing before she had come to believe that the current ruler could be trusted. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her.
    He was delighted that Page and Laylah, though from completely different backgrounds, had become such fast friends. Laylah could not be called a true innocent. She and her people had suffered, terribly and terrifyingly, from the dark horror known to them as the Nightcrawler. It was this darkness the kinghimself had helped to defeat, first in Aurora and later in Albion proper. But even though she had endured much, Laylah had a certain naïveté about her.
    This could not be said about Page. She was as hard as Laylah was soft. A shrewd observer of people, Page knew how to motivate and inspire her friends and stand up to her enemies. Her “organization” was still largely intact though now she offered what she knew—at least
most
of what she knew; the king suspected that she still kept a few things close to her vest—and had proven to be an invaluable resource. Page was that admirable though often oxymoronic thing, the pragmatic optimist. He was glad that Laylah had found not only a friend but one who could help her understand Bowerstone and its populace, both good and bad.
    But all that, important though it was, could wait. All he saw now was the brave but gentle girl who had won his heart. Her cheeks turned a dark rose as she ascended the steps to stand beside him, and her eyes were bright with joy.
    Most of the wedding ceremony was a blur to the king. He uttered his name when needed to, happily vowed to love, protect, and be true to Laylah, and had a moment of panic when he heard Ben swearing as he fumbled for the rings. Laylah extended her slender hand, and the king slipped the simple gold ring on the fourth finger.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bearded Dweller standing outside the throne room, arguing with a guard. The guard was shaking his head, but Jasper quietly intervened and led the messenger as discreetly as possible to where King Sabine was seated. He heard Sabine’s distinctive yapping for an instant, then both he and the messenger hastened out.
    The king’s heart sank. Something bad had obviously happened, and he was selfish enough, at this moment at least, to hope it was something Sabine could handle by himself.
    He had a feeling it wasn’t.
    Oh well
, he thought as Laylah slipped a ring on his own left hand,
such is the life of a king
.
    Even, it would seem, on his wedding day.
    He clasped Laylah’s hand and turned to face the applauding crowd as Priestess Mara presented them as King and Queen of Albion. Laylah’s arm was slipped through his, the new royal couple nodded, smiling, to the well-wishers. But the instant they stepped through the doors, the king felt the strong grip of Sabine’s clawlike hand.
    “Your Majesty! We must speak right away!”
    “Unfortunately, I fear King Sabine is correct,” said Jasper. “This matter is indeed demanding of your attention. I suggest you, Mr. Finn, Captain Timmins, Miss Page, and the lady Kalin take a few moments now to converse. I shall take our lovely new queen to the reception and—”
    “No, Jasper,” said Laylah. Her musical voice was soft, as always, but firm. “I am, as you say, the queen now. My husband has said he wished me to share in the duties as well as the pleasures of ruling. If this matter is so urgent, I should like to hear of it.” She turned to the king.