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   Chapter 21 No.21

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5285

Updated: 2018-07-10 12:04


'I'm sorry' Arlen whispered. 'It's just...…these last few days we've spent together…have been the happiest of my life.'

'Mine too' Ramana said. 'Many years of my life I've spent behind walls, dreaming of being on the other side, wondering what was there…and then I found you.' She lay back down, resting on her side now, her long silky black hair pooled around her head. She watched Arlen, never taking her eyes off his. 'When you started sending those gifts over the wall, each time you sent another, I learnt a little more about you. Who you were, what you were like….I waited, for hours sometimes to see if you would send me anything on that day. I began to collect them, so that I might look back on them, and remember those days I looked forward to. I shall never forget.'

'And I shall never forget how you made me laugh' Arlen sighed. 'Oh what fun we had.'

'We did' Ramana said, enthusiastically now. 'Let us never forget those days. Let us always remember them, and let us not be sad.'

'I know this is the last night I will have you, and that tomorrow you will belong to my brother, but…I just want you to know…that I will always love you, from now, until forever…no matter what. And…I just want you to know……. Farrell could give you a much better life than I ever could.'

'Oh Arlen…'

He pulled her closer, feeling her naked skin against his.

'Love me' she whispered to him. 'Just one last time.'

He leant forward to kiss her.

The next morning was spectacular. Every single person who lived in the town was present at the wedding, with eyes all turned to the bride.

Ramana took a deep and steady breath to calm her nerves, as she saw the crowd of people before her split roughly in half, walking down the path between them and feeling very uncomfortable at the staring faces all around. Her strides were wide, and her pace slow. She mounted the steps to stand before the holy man, looking utterly magnificent. Her luscious black hair was tied up, showing her long beautiful neck and shoulders. She wore a striking dress of bronze and dark green and other earthy colours. Running across her shoulders and trailing behind her as she walked. Her makeup was light but appealing, however felt strange and unfamiliar for her to wear.

A figure approached her from beside, and Ramana turned to see Farrell marching up the steps towards her, handsomely dressed and well presented.

He held out his arm, and she took it, only reluctantly. She glanced back to the crowd, where she spotted Arlen. He stood with his head high, and despite the words he had spoken to her the night before, Ramana could see the suff

ering in his eyes. All his words of confidence and encouragement, all of it had been lies. He didn't want to let her go, but he did so, for her.

She remembered the words Arlen had said to her, the words her own brothers had said.

Farrell could give you a much better life than anyone could.

Ramana turned from him with head hung low. She faced the holy man before her, as did Farrell.

The holy man opened his hands, and smiled. He began his sermon, and shortly after, the couple were married.

Farrell walked the short distance back to his home, guiding behind him the dappled stallion, upon which Ramana sat.

They approached the manor, Farrell bringing the stallion around to the front steps. He helped Ramana down, watching her sternly; she almost shrank from his gaze, dipping her head.

Farrell took her hand with no tenderness, and led her to the front door. Behind them, one of the servants took the horse and led it away.

Farrell opened the huge double doors with ease and led Ramana through his home. Her eyes grew wide as she surveyed her new surroundings, the place that was now her home too. She was in awe as to how large the place was, how expensive. It was even larger than her old home, despite her father's wealth and position.

Farrell led Ramana up the stairs and to his bedroom. The room was oversized, like the rest of the rooms in the manor. There was a four-poster bed at the back wall and several bear skins on the floor, but little else. It was a rich environment, but lacking comfort. Beyond the window outside, the stars were growing bright, and the moon was a waning crescent glowing brightly like a lantern in the sky.

Silently Farrell closed the door. He led Ramana towards the centre of the room, holding her by the hand. Slipping the dress down her body, and reaching forward to kiss her, Farrell pushed her gently back onto the bed.

Chapter Five

Amaia

Nine months later

Ramana threw her head back and screamed, grasping the bed sheets and turning her head from side to side. All around her, midwives bustled.

Farrell jerked the reins back sharply, Alastor reared up pawing the air and screaming furiously. Farrell sent the stallion forwards again, swinging his sword at the enemy soldiers below him, all around the fighting continued.

Farrell shook his head, trying to clear his eyes of blood and rain. It was dark now; the only light came from the moon as it cast a pale yellow blanket on the scene of the town below. The scene of death and bloodshed.

Farrell wheeled the stallion around, hearing his name being called, but only as a faint voice on the wind.

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