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“Shiny kings upon their thrones have tongues of serpents but strike like boys.”
I dodged his next swing with ease.
He huffed, stomping out of the room without a single look back. I’d never felt so fucking vindicated in all my life. Somehow, the last twelve hours had been the greatest of my existence. There was nothing that could sour this day for me. Though I was already bound to Orin, a king who had more potential than I’d seen from anyone else, I was about to perform an act that would finally show this kingdom that I was willing to make sacrifices for them.
There was nothing to be done to hide my swollen split lip. The blood had stopped with a cool rag, but I’d wear my father’s marking the rest of the week, no doubt. Still, the women came silently, eyeing me with trepidation as I stepped into the long, black lace gown that fit me like a glove, showing skin through the intricate weavings of the seamstress’s craft.
Before the child came, I stood in front of Ro’s mirror one final time, taking in the weight of this day and the symbolism of the gown, letting my eyes fall upon the small hint of the binding hidden beneath the ribbon on my wrist. When the reflection rippled, I knew she was watching. I imagined her prideful face staring back at me. She’d be in the crowd, I was sure. Watching amongst all the other strangers, but this moment was for her and me, even if she wouldn’t step into my room with the other women. Her power was her secret alone, and I respected that boundary.
When the courtiers left and the young girl was finally sent in, tears streaking down her cheeks, I knelt, attempting a smile without cracking open the fresh wound. Her giant blue eyes stared back at me as she trembled.
I showed her my palm. “You need not fear me, child. I bear no name today.”
She nodded, swiping away a tear before she whispered, “You are still beautiful, Princess, even if you killed my aunt.”
Her words struck me right in the gut as she grabbed the edges of the solid black veil and pulled it over my head, concealing my stunned face. My father had selected her for a reason. Poor child. I followed the sounds of the little girl’s footsteps out of my room, in complete darkness. Every step, with only a single weapon, felt foreign to me. Especially as I navigated my father’s halls, knowing how furious he was with me. Knowing I’d done something so reckless last night when there was such a delicate peace between our fragile cities.
Heart pounding like a wild beast yearning for freedom, I crept along. The familiar scent of polished wood and aged parchment filled the air, challenging my senses to stay aware of my location. My footsteps echoed softly against the cold stone floor as I followed the sound of the young child’s anxious breaths through familiar hallways, all the way to the castle’s main doors.
The trembling touch of her hand gripped mine tightly, her fingers cold and clammy. A stark contrast to the warmth that should radiate from the touch of an innocent. Her fear was palpable, a heavy cloak draped over her small frame, seeping into my senses.
As we ventured past the gardens and toward the forgotten temple, the cacophony of distant voices grew louder, mimicking the child’s unease. The courtiers’ whispers and the servants’ hushed tones blended with the rhythmic thud of my anxious heartbeat. The dissonance of somber music reached my ears, a mournful melody that mirrored the child’s shaking grip. The haunting notes wove through the air, whispering of uncertainty, grief, and trepidation, which had become the soundtrack of my existence.
Loose stones turned to solid bricks as we approached the grand doors of the castle’s temple. The whoosh of air accompanied the squeal of the doors opening, letting the music rain down upon us. The second she could, the little girl broke free and ran.
Swallowing my nerves, my heart steadied, finding solace in the knowledge that this procession was merely a façade. This day, only an illusion of unity existed between our kingdoms. A fragile shield against forces that sought to tear them apart.
The world silenced. I closed my eyes, picturing Orin’s brutally beautiful face as I stepped, one foot in front of the other, up the black, carpeted aisle. I pictured my father standing there in purple, regal attire and my husband in green.
The shiny finish of recently polished boots came into view as my father cleared his throat, indicating I’d gone far enough. As one, the gathered audience took a resounding breath, following my father’s orders to be seated. Though I’d only known Orin for what seemed like moments, I felt myself shifting toward those boots on the floor, truly feeling like he may be the only soul in the room who wanted me there.
Several moments later, as my father spoke about abandoned gods and Death’s promise to save us all, he inched away from me, and my heart sank. Perhaps last night was only a show, and today, when he stepped below this veil, things would be different, yet normal in every way I’d always known.
I couldn’t help the lump that formed in my throat, and no matter how many times I tried to swallow it down, it grew sharper, forcing tears to my eyes. This was likely the biggest mistake of my life, and I was in too deep to escape now. He’d tried to warn me last night.
Lost in my own thoughts, I’d hardly registered the choir boys singing their beautiful songs. I didn’t hear the lighting of the candles surrounding us. I missed my father’s recognition of Icharius Fern’s new position as king of Silbath. I only heard my future looming closer and closer as my bonded husband continued to move away from me. Perhaps he would stumble into one of the candles and light himself on fire. I managed a smile as I pictured the face he’d given last night when his pants fell. It likely would have been the same.
“… not only to witness the union of two souls but also to celebrate a bond that holds the promise of peace and prosperity for both our lands. In the absence of divine guidance, Death stands as a constant companion, a reminder of the fleeting nature of our existence…”
As my father praised Death as an ally, my stomach churned with a mixture of disgust and apprehension. I knew his true intentions, the dark machinations that swirled within a wretched king’s mind. The marriage that was meant to bring harmony and peace was nothing more than a pawn in his grand scheme for power.
Still, the ceremony continued, until the long pause before the vows were to be spoken and the bond we already made, sealed.
“Join now your future wife below her veil. Join hands and deliver your solemn vows.”
Thick fingers gripped the edge of the veil, but before I could finally see his face, the doors in the back of the temple slammed open, and a very familiar voice shouted from the door, “Hate to interrupt the festivities, but it seems your princess is already married. To me.”
Chapter 10
Reality, the full truth, crashed into me as I stumbled backward.
“That is my wife. We were bound last night.” Orin’s voice rang through the temple with unhurried conviction.
“Impossible,” my father barked.
“Search her wrist,” my husband yelled from halfway up the aisle. “See our bond for yourself. She wasn’t worthy of a king. In fact, she hardly protested at all.”
Though pinned, the black veil was ripped from my head, taking a chunk of hair with it as I stared up into the vengeful eyes of the real Icharius Fern, an absolute stranger with a halo of blond hair and cold, dark eyes. He snatched my wrist and tore the lace, showcasing the fresh golden band for all to see.
