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A month of weeping would not be enough for what Caramelinda had endured. A year of mourning would never make her feel better, and it would never do justice to Lazuli Rocks, for whom her tears fell, heavy and sweet. Nothing, it seemed, would ever be enough for the young Caramelinda ever again. And yet, with her caramel body wrapped in white lace, she had no choice but to carry on.
Even though carrying on, in this case, meant marrying someone she did not love in place of someone who’d held her heart in two hands. Their marriage had been for politics, yes. But that did not mean true love had not grown throughout the arrangement, weaving them together in a way that could not be separated even by death. For there were still little bits of Lazuli knit into every inch of Caramelinda’s skin.
She would not let herself be picked clean, would not let herself be resewn in such a way. She locked her heart away in an iron cage sealed with sticky caramel. Even she was not certain it could be pried open again. Even if she wanted it to be.
But still, there was a wedding to be had. And despite kneeling in the dirt, ruining the gown before she could walk down the aisle, tarnishing herself not in a way that made her unlovable but in a way that reminded her that she’d already been loved big and great and true, she knew that she had to stand up. She had to stand up and walk down the aisle. She had to marry Lazuli’s younger brother, just as she would have to provide him with an heir. Just as she would have to continue on and continue on and continue on, as Lazuli would not be able to.
Church bells rang in the distance, time running short. If she didn’t stand up soon, she would be late. And being late, well, that had always been Lazuli’s thing.
Instead of standing up, she placed shaking hands atop the circle of stones, feeling the ridges underneath her fingers and thinking about what would come of her life. “I don’t know if I can do this, Laz,” she whispered.
It was the most uncertain Caramelinda had ever been about anything in her entire life. For someone so steadfast and unyielding, so methodical and calculated, being at such a loss made it feel as if the entire world had turned on its side and she was slipping, unable to find her bearings.
Letting her eyes flicker closed, she pictured her first wedding. A different dress, a different ring, but the same castle, the same ballroom she’d be dancing in later that evening. Warmth spread up her arms as she saw Lazuli with a bright smile on her face, looking at her lovingly as they spun around the ballroom together. Before that wedding, there had been no nervous questioning moment. From the moment she’d met Lazuli, she’d been in awe, and for every moment after, she’d been in love.
A few stray tears slipped from closed eyes, and she reached up to wipe them. Her makeup was ruined, but it didn’t matter. For a moment, she thought about running away, disappearing somewhere where she could grieve without contest, without worry. For it always seemed to be a contest, her grief never as important as Amethar’s. She could see it in the way everyone looked at her. Her own family, sought to fulfill an arrangement, praying that they would not lose out on something so valuable just because of death. And Amethar, grieving in his own right. They were two ships, far out at sea, unable to reach one another. No meeting in the middle, only tense interactions and awkward silences, mentions of Lazuli met with shifting eyes and attempts to hide tears.
She had done her best to remain stoic, to be the one ready and prepared for what was to come, to show no weakness in the moments where her strength was needed most. But she unraveled now, coming apart at the seams without Lazuli there to hold her together. And that sadness, it so quickly turned into anger. At herself. At the world. At Lazuli. At Amethar. At anyone she could point a finger at.
“ Why ?” she whispered through grit teeth, tears streaming down her cheeks at full force. “Why did you have to care so much?” She opened her eyes, then, looking at the circle of stones and thinking about all of her fallen wife's contributions to the world, and how great it had been to be loved by her. “Why did you do it, Lazuli?” Words came out in full sobs, now, and they felt impossible to stop, like an oncoming storm. Had her wife thought about her, in those final moments, when arrows rained down atop her? Caramelinda understood politics. She understood war. But still, despite being explained the situation over and over, she could not understand her wife’s sacrifice, her bravery in the face of death. Those thoughts only made the tears fall faster, and after a while—with bells tolling louder in the distance—she was certain Amethar would have to come to retrieve her.
“My love,” Lazuli said, her voice on the wind.
Everything in Caramelinda seized up, from blood to bone. She got to her feet in an instant and pressed her fingertips to the altar in the center of the circle of stones. Desperation came over her in a fury when her fallen wife’s voice did not immediately enter her head again.
She calmed down a fraction, thought perhaps I’m going insane , and started to turn away, steeling herself for the wedding that could not be ignored any longer, less an army of sisters and even Theobold came looking for her in a panic.
Before she could step in the direction of the castle, set on putting this moment of utter weakness behind her for good, an aberration appeared before her, materializing out of thin air. Lazuli stood before Caramelinda, her form a sparkling pink and purple rendition of what she’d been. Caramelinda did not speak, did not move. She feared if she let out even a breath, everything would fade around her like it never existed at all.
But then Lazuli spoke once more. “I love you, Cara,” she whispered, voice melodic and smooth, coming from all around. “That will never change. Not even in death.” There was a moment of silence that only lasted a few seconds, but felt like years to the future queen. “I did what had to be done. I am so sorry that you have to do the same.”
Caramelinda could not find the words to speak. She could only stare at the sparkling vision of her late wife with mouth agape. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them felt quite right.
“I’m still here,” Lazuli said. “With you. Always.” And then, before Caramelinda could say anything more, the aberration dissolved on the wind like sugar, and she was alone again.
Those pieces of her soulmate, forever embedded in her skin, in her heart, felt warm and comforting. They did not cut her as they had only minutes before. Instead, she felt a strange sense of relief wash over her. After a long moment, she wiped her face with both hands, brushed the dirt off her gown as best she could, and walked toward the chapel.
Her marriage to Amethar was not perfect. He was not Lazuli. There were moments of love, moments of tenderness that they shared, but it was not earthshaking or world-shattering as loving his sister had been. Some nights, even for decades after she walked down that aisle the second time, she still woke in the night confused about who lay next to her in bed. When the twins were born, she mourned the world they would grow up in without Lazuli and her sisters. And when she felt particularly heartbroken, she would sit by the window with her old wedding ring in hand and recount stories to her beloved until the sun went down.