The cold, pale light of false dawn was just beginning to touch the highest peaks outside the window. The servants would arrive soon to begin her final preparation. Maria knew she had only moments.

  She moved quickly, silently, her bare feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. First, she secured the heavy bedroom door with a simple, quick warding gesture Kael had taught her, a temporary barrier that would make the latch sticky and confusing to anyone who tried it before the sun fully rose.

  As she turned, she saw him. The Shadow. He had emerged from the deeper gloom of the chamber, now more defined, a silent sentinel by the window, his presence a comforting hum in the otherwise frigid room. She had never given him a true name, not one spoken aloud to others, but for her, he was always "Eldrin". A name whispered in her mind since childhood, a secret companion. He was the quiet witness to her deepest secrets.

  Maria went to the hearth, where the fire was reduced to glowing embers. She gently gathered three small, clean stones from the edge of the fireplace and placed them carefully on the mantle.

  She felt Eldrin's gaze, a steady, calm weight that both anchored and encouraged her. She didn't need to speak; he understood. Their bond was older than her memory.

  Taking a deep breath, Maria located three tiny candles she had hidden inside her travel kit, items she always carried. Using a spark of controlled, internal heat, a delicate trick of her southern magic, she lit them. They caught instantly, their light shockingly bright against the northern gloom.

  She placed them beside the stones, each flame representing a silent promise.

  The first candle was placed beside a stone she named "Maria".

  The second candle went by the stone she dedicated: "Mother".

  The third, the central candle, was placed last, its light wavering slightly as she gave it its true dedication: "The True God."

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  The candles burned steadily. She could feel the low, steady of her magic, drawn out and focused by the three small lights. The cold cloak of Aedric's Northern warding, still hanging nearby, seemed to recoil slightly from the sudden, warm burst of her intent.

  Next, the binding. Maria reached up and found a loose strand of her silver hair, the color that always marked her lineage and her power. She pulled it free, a thread of liquid moonlight.

  She held the single strand over the central flame until it blackened and curled, quickly reducing to a wisp of ash and smoke. She caught the tiny ashes in her palm.

  She then carried her hands to the wash basin on her dresser, which held a pitcher of fresh, icy water. As she moved, Eldrin drifted closer, his form absorbing the little light around him, until he stood just behind her, a protective, silent presence. He was closer now than any mortal had ever been during these private rites.

  She dropped the ashes onto the surface. As the smoke dissolved into the water, she spoke the vow, not with her voice, but with her mind, a torrent of absolute, focused will, aimed straight into the flickering flames, knowing Eldrin bore witness:

  The candles flared once, sharply, sending the light dancing across the cold room. Maria felt a powerful, cleansing surge, a silent oath that layered itself over the formal vows she was about to speak. She was no longer just the Princess being married off; she was the witch, preparing a trap for her own soul.

  She felt Eldrin's presence deepen, a silent acknowledgment, almost a deep, resonant hum against her own spirit. He was her anchor, her witness, her oldest secret made manifest. He had been there for her first clumsy sparks of magic, for every tear, for every hidden joy.

  She quickly snuffed the three flames, blew the ashes of her hair to the bottom of the basin, and placed the stones and empty candles back into her hidden kit.

  Just as she straightened, the first, deep chime of the wedding bells echoed through the stone walls slow, heavy, demanding. The sun had finally risen.

  Eldrin began to recede, melting back into the shadows from which he came, his task complete.

  A loud, insistent rapping came at the door.

  "Princess?" a maid's voice called, muffled by the temporary ward. "The hour is late. We must dress you now."

  Maria took one last look at the cold window, where the outside world awaited. Her hands no longer trembled. She walked to the door and, with a subtle release of will, unlocked the latch.

  "Come in," Maria said calmly. "I am ready."