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He nods, acknowledging the change in our relationship, and switches the subject. “Your queen is late.”
“Tsk tsk,” I say.
“You should discipline her for this.”
“Most certainly.”
“Ah, lovely.” The king bids me goodbye and returns to his family in the front while I prepare to see my bride. My heart starts thumping. Another bead of sweat forms on my temple. It is fairly hot in here.
My king interrupts my thoughts. “It’s not the heat. It’s the nerves.”
“Don’t be absurd.” I’ve faced death and welcomed it. Getting married doesn’t make me uneasy.
My palms become clammy, and I wipe them on my pants.
What the fuck… I am anxious. Ha! Would you look at that?
Trumpets blare, and I inhale deeply as the doors open to my bride.
Chloe wears her red hair up in a towerlike fashion, so that we can all see her beautiful face and those amazing big green eyes. Attached to the top of her head is a veil that coils in layers around her feet. The dress she chose makes her look bare, her beautiful, voluptuous body on full display.
It is an image I am sure to paint.
On cue, vibrant, dramatic music begins, and Chloe steps over the veil and clicks the heels of her red flat shoes together.
I stare at the shoes, and the familiarity of them hits me like a punch in the gut. Instantly, I find Queen June, the fate who sees all that’s come to pass, and she stares right back at me, knowing of my many dreams about a female who runs through the forest in flat red shoes.
And if the fate knows, then we must be… My thoughts are disrupted when my queen starts marching like a soldier down the aisle. She’s lifting her knees, and because the dress is short, I can see under it, brief flashes of her bareness.
Instantly, I’m hard and struggle to pull back the horns jutting from my head. When she arrives and looks at me with those green eyes I haven’t been able to get out of my head since the moment I met her, I step closer and flood her with my mating scent.
Her eyelashes flutter, and I give her body a once-over.
Twice for good measure.
By the fates, she is fuckable. Most certainly fuckable. There is no other way I would describe the female that shall soon be my wife.
“D’Artaron,” she says, extending her hand and waiting.
The audience starts snickering. I’m caught unprepared, unpracticed, so completely lost in lust for my future wife that I forget to offer her my elbow so that we may climb the steps and get married.
“I forgot I have hands,” I announce, and people laugh. “How could I not forget when the fates have given me this beautiful creature?” I lean in and whisper to her, “I want to take you straight to the chambers.”
She blushes prettily. “There’s the marriage, then the coronation, and then we have a long reception followed by the seven-span long ceremony.”
I shake my head. “I don’t wish to wait anymore.”
She smiles like a baby shark. “But you will.”
I take her hand and guide her behind the thrones and toward the mural in the back, the one I reconstructed into a door rather than a window. At the wide opening stands the fate who sees all that’s happening now.
When we arrive, the fate takes our hands and blesses our union by singing for us in a tongue spoken by the unicorns as she ties a green ribbon around our wrists, forever binding us as husband and wife.
My queen starts to cry, and I kiss her hand before turning toward her and cupping her face. “May your tears of joy bathe the court in prosperity and good fortune.” I wipe her tears with my thumbs and press my lips against hers. “I love you, Chloe. You make me feel alive.”
As I kiss her, I feel a strange lightness in my chest just before the back of my uniform rips and my wings push out of my back. They flare out, and my queen stops kissing me and looks up, now nearly sobbing.
“We are fae-ted!” she shouts. “Oh my fates, we are fae-ted!”
