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In the priest’s wake, dozens of acolytes followed. The young boys all wore white ensembles consisting of gaudy white tops, slick white trousers, and little capes that tied around their necks. In their hands were similar, albeit smaller, golden dragon-topped staffs. Their steps were synchronized as they followed the priest, their faces void of any expression.
Nearing the dais, the acolytes formed two neat rows. Their heels clicking together as they turned to face each other.
The music picked up as the Frenzian king stood before the temple’s doors. Rian wore a sleek, black jacket with black diamonds and brilliant rubies glittering across it in the likeness of dragon scales. At the shoulders, tiny spikes protruded out of the fabric like the spine of a dragon. In comparison, his trousers were simple, with small black gems sprinkled lightly across them. The gold crown sparkled atop his wine-red hair as the light from the candelabra hit it.
Rian held his arm out, and his mother joined him. The Queen Mother wore a deep-red, almost black dress. Clasped around her neck was a long red cape made of chiffon and decorated with red and black lace at the shoulders. It dragged behind her as they walked down the aisle. Her dark auburn hair was tied up in neat twists at the back of her head, with the front slicked back.
As they made their way down the aisle, the guests tipped their heads down as the king and his mother passed. Rian stopped at the first row, gently kissing his mother’s cheeks before taking his place by the priest at the center of his dais.
Behind them followed the king’s advisors and close relatives. Graeson recalled Armen saying the older couple who followed were the former queen’s parents. They were dressed in a similar fashion, extravagant fabrics draping their bodies.
A hum echoed through his physical form and in all corners of his mind. Graeson watched with bated breath.
Kalisandre was close.
The god’s amusement, stained with a lust for blood, seeped beneath the locked door, catching Graeson’s attention. Faint whispers breezed across the room as Sebastian walked down the aisle, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. Graeson didn’t need to see his face up close to know what caused the whispers. He had seen the bruises earlier, and while the makeup hid them from afar, the paint did nothing to conceal the coloring from the guest sitting closest to the aisle. Sebastian tipped his chin, folding his hands behind his back. However, as much as the prince tried to hide that he was not bothered by the whispers, the twitch of his nose gave him away.
Perhaps he will now know not to touch what does not belong to him,the god said.
Graeson, however, knew it was wishful thinking. Men like him never learned.
Sebastian stood a few steps below his brother, and Graeson smirked at the prince’s irritation.
The humming grew louder, and the air shifted in the room. Graeson could sense his body growing rigid as a mix of emotions flooded his system at the sight of the two figures. The bullheaded king stood before the room wearing a white suit with gold and navy detailing. But Graeson did not care to look at him, for his attention was solely on the woman beside him.
When Graeson took Kalisandre in, his heart stopped.
The dress she wore, Graeson admitted, was beautiful and fit her bodice perfectly. The skirt was large and blossomed from her hips, but it did not overwhelm her short physique. The sweetheart bodice with intricate beading and lace enhanced her curves and drew attention to her collar bone, where four gold chains swept across her neck and chest, connected by a single chain that slid in between her breasts. She wore a sparkling white cape attached to white leather in the form of armor with capped sleeves, which were decorated with the same lace and beading as the bodice. The white leather rose to her throat, wrapping around it. Loose curls framed Kalisandre’s face while the rest of her hair cascaded down her back in a loose, thick, intricate braid with little diamonds sparkling throughout.
Kalisandre was more than breathtaking, but not because of the dress.
Because as beautiful as the dress was, it wasn’ther. She was not meant to be covered in gems, tulle, and leather. She wasn’t meant to wear chains around her neck. She wasn’t meant to force a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she held Domitius’ raised hand. Nor was she meant to be looking fondly at her Frenzian groom at the other end of the aisle.
It was as if she had forgotten what had happened two nights ago.
As she floated down the aisle and the doors closed behind her, Graeson could feel his heartbeat picking up, echoing throughout his body.
When she was only a few yards from Graeson’s position near the dais, Domitius and Kalisandre stopped. Domitius embraced his false daughter. From Graeson’s vantage point, he saw Domitius’ lips move, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. Whatever the bullheaded king said, it made Kalisandre straighten. She gave a slight nod, then curtsied the moment Domitius released her.
With a satisfied grin, Domitius took his place in the front row beside the captain of his guard. The king’s gaze as he looked upon Kalisandre was not that of a loving or caring father. It was the gaze of a man selling his daughter off to the highest bidder. A man boastful of his accomplishments.
This moment was not for Kalisandre. It was for him. A celebration of what he had made happen.
Then, as Kalisandre turned and reached for Rian’s hand, Graeson could feel the god strain to remain still. At the onslaught of anger rising, Graeson narrowed his gaze as he peered through the window, searching for what awakened the god’s wrath.
The leather around her throat had hidden the bruises well, but not well enough. The fabric had begun to rub off the powder and paint, the white material now stained salmon. Purple skin peeked through the paint.
Graeson growled.
He would kill them.
He would kill them all.
Soon, the god hissed.
When Rian grabbed Kalisandre’s hand and turned to face the priest, the priest slammed the staff against the ground. Fire erupted from the dragons’ mouths, and fierce flames roared down the aisle, lighting the path to the king and his bride.
The priest’s voice boomed across the room as he spoke, “Today, we gather to unite two families, two kingdoms.”
