Frost-like indentation decorated the altar that split the chapel into four sections filled with long benches. Nobles sat silent without a single gap for even one more spectator. If anyone was breathing, it was drowned out by droning hums of a choir hidden in the rafters. Yui did not dare raise her eyes to find them for fear of appearing petulant. A tap to her back signalled her time as a statuette at one end of the aisle had ended. She stepped out from under the torch that had offered her, shimmering, for the eyes of the room.

Bellona was plenty tall enough to be seen approaching from the opposite aisle; Yui wondered if her ears were poking out of the altar from the princess’ point of view. They pointed to the sky, as she had been ordered to ensure they did in the many etiquette classes she had endured. Droopy ears could be misunderstood as a lackadaisical attitude from the First Mate, crooked ears were sloppy, cowering ears implied a reluctance to me be mated to the First Princess – completely unacceptable. The hood of her ceremonial robes was pinned just behind them to appear as though it balanced perfectly upon the back of her head. The fluttering skirts reached almost the edges of her aisle, trying to tickle the toes of those lining it with every step of Yui’s silk slippers.

At the very centre, hands to stone pillar, stood the witness to their vows, as though the hundreds of high-borns were not enough testimony. He was alone in his simple garb, a man of order rather than title. Sitting facing him were the king and queen, front row, draped almost as ostentatiously as Yui ad Bellona. They kept their watch to their daughter. Something Yui was grateful for, she couldn’t bear to be looked upon with disgust while she needed her focus on remembering her part in this play.

She met Bellona at the altar, the flat top at her chin height, the alpha’s eyes unshakeable upon her. The choir faded until heartbeats could be heard. Yui’s jolted in her throat. The chill settled deep into her bones was forgotten under the burn of braziers and noble eyes. They had their chance to pass judgement upon her now, to size her up and decide for themselves if she was worthy of the First Princess. If there was any reasoning to why she had been chosen over their sisters, daughters, nieces, cousins.

“We stand beneath the sun on this day…” The witness’ speech followed the books Yui had been trained on word for word. Her role was to stand gracefully, never slouching, until it was her turn to recite her vows.

“Your declaration, First Princess,” the witness cued.

Bellona did not twitch in his direction. “On this day, beneath the sun, I vow myself to you now and forever. I pledge protection, command, and loyalty to you, my mate, before a witness of the Order of Oaths.” It was the most words Yui had heard the First Princess say in one continuous speech. Her gravelly voice skittered over her skin.

“Your declaration, First Mate.”

Yui licked her lips. Bellona tugged on her own with a canine in response. “On this day, beneath the sun, I vow myself to you now and forever.” She began raspy but managed to build strength with each correctly spoken word. “I pledge care, submission, and loyalty to you, my mate, before a witness of the Order of Oaths.”

“Do you, First Princess Bellona, accept the vows of First Mate Yui?”

“I do.” She did. She knew everything there was to know now. And still she chose Yui.

“Do you, First Mate Yui, accept the vows of First Princess Bellona?”

“I do.”

“Your vows shall remain with me until the end of my days, to be passed on to the next of my lineage and onwards still until forever has been reached.”

“Thank you, witness,” Bellona said quietly. That was not part of Yui’s script. She hurried to add her gratitude as well, whispered.

The witness said nothing more. He turned his back on the altar and followed his aisle out of the hall. Bellona did the same. Yui marched away last.

The wing was empty of the First Princess when Yui reached it, collapsing to one of the many long furnishings and blowing out a breath that would have been a groan if she weren’t inundated with helpers offering her soon-stale bread slices and boiled vegetables to keep her strength up. Hunger was not what drained her. The day had felt endless from the moment she woke up. There were constant hands on her, tending to her appearance, tilting her posture. As her robes were unbuckled while she lay over embroidered cushions, Yui soothed herself with the reminder that she was nearing the end.

The mating ceremony. The one ubiquitous practice included amongst the rituals and rites of the royals. The final performance of the day. The completion of which would name Yui as the First Princess’ First Mate on tongue and in ink.

Until this moment, Bellona held the power to halt it all. No word came that she had made such a decision despite the servants listening out for the sudden arrival of a messenger as they applied fresh powder to her face and braided her hair around her head. Yui was pulled upright and a coronet was set in place via loose loops of her locks, simple and silver and surprisingly weighty. The points pricked the backs of her ears, ordering them up again. Carnivores should know better than to believe upright ears were for excitement and interest in their prey. It felt like a mismatch of her body and her face to appear that way while her ears were alert and wary. She took a moment, barely more than a breath, with eyes shut, to ready herself for one more act.

Yui was sewn into her last garment of the day – a gown that felt heavier than when she was on the brink of bursting with her daughter. Where the neckline that swooped into the tops of her sleeves hanging just beneath her shoulders bared her throat and collar bone, everything beneath it was covered with much more material than was necessary. Heavy folds, detailed with beading that glittered like snowflakes, hung from her hips, exaggerating her curves as though she were carved like a vase.

She rehearsed her walk in the little time she had before she was to be escorted back to the chapel, finding subtle ways to kick her skirts ahead of her so that she may move without a ring of attendants carrying the hem on her return down the aisle. As soon as the sun had set, she was due back at the altar.