AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Drops have dyed her honey-colored eyes blue, but the fierce expression shining out of them is unmistakably Zaina. My sister is reminding me that she is here, along with her behemoth of a husband and her giant feline companion.
Even the three of them are no match for Madame, nor the entire royal guard, but it makes me feel just a little less alone as I make my way to the front of the room.
The altar is made from delicate wrought iron, decorated with flowers carved from crimson crystals and long swaths of black silk gently flowing around the bars. We’re nearly there when the queen’s voice stops us.
“What exactly are you doing, Francis?” Her objection is barely above a whisper.
“Exactly what you told me to, Maman,” Remy answers blithely.
He has still barely looked at me since he made his announcement, has given me not a single clue as to how he actually feels about this little plan of his.
“That is not funny,” she responds through her teeth.
It strikes me how similar she looks to Remy, from the warm brown tones of their hair and eyes to the perfectly controlled grins on their full lips. The only real difference is that her skin is olive-toned, while his is several shades lighter, more like the king’s.
“You can’t be seen as playing favorites, my dear,” King Jean whispers in a tired voice.
The queen lets out a low breath before switching tactics.
“I only thought he was supposed to wait until midnight, to give all the girls a chance to win his affections.” Her voice is more forceful now, her brow raised in a challenge.
Several of the courtiers titter, but Remy is undeterred.
“It would be unfair to lead the other upstanding ladies on when I could never hope to hold affections for anyone else,” he responds, squeezing me tighter against him. “If she accepts, of course.”
Which is a joke because there was no option not to accept once I agreed to be in his pool of potential brides.
Queen Katriane’s smile wavers ever so slightly, her eyes drifting between the two of us. She is almost as adept at schooling her features as her son is, but the whites of her knuckles strain around her clenched fists.
Remy looks away from her, his cinnamon eyes fixing on mine in a display of adoration fit for only the finest actors on the stage.
And Madame thinksI’mthe gifted liar.
Of course, I am plenty good at it, too, so I play along like he expects me to because this is our lot now. Any plans I had to hide us were as good as destroyed the moment he announced me as his bride.
I still can’t decide if this will be better—following through with Madame's orders and marrying him—or if it will only get me killed more slowly.
At the very least, it keeps me useful to her and is likely the safest plan for Remy. So I paste on the biggest smile I can muster under the circumstances and run a hand through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear.
“Your affections pale in comparison to my own, Francis.” At least it’s easier to pretend when I’m not using the name I know him by. “Of course, I’ll say yes.”
His brow twitches in something between warning and amusement before he leads me closer to the altar where the officiant waits. He looks just as he always has, from his broad chest to his shoulder-length chestnut waves, but his expression is all wrong. Though this was his idea, consternation edges out the bare hints of laughter.
As a child, I hardly had the luxury of imagining my future wedding. I hadn’t been sure I would even live long enough to see one.
Then Madame found me, and my life took a different track. After that, there was even less point in picturing any kind of ordinary future. Still, if I had thought about it, I don’t think it would have been anything like this, with bleeding feet and a borrowed dress, one sister hiding in the shadows and another an ocean away, and the threat of death looming over us all.
The officiant's voice fades to the background as I take Remy’s hands in mine, the reality of our situation sinking in like a cannonball through the hull of a ship.
From there, everything is a blur.
Drops of crimson dripping from my shoes onto a black marble floor.
Remy’s fingers searing my skin all the way through the silk of my dress.
Wedding vows we don’t begin to mean.
Then the rings.
