Prologue III
HANNE
Vulgaris was right—the Ring of Elders approved the match immediately.
It was announced to the kingdom and the people, and because my birthday was just days away, I was fitted for a wedding dress immediately, the handmaids working tirelessly to make my gown in record time.
A royal wedding was usually given months of preparation, but all activities in the kingdom were halted to accommodate the feast and the flowers and all the items we would need to put on the event.
I didn’t see my completed dress until the day of my wedding.
The maids hung it on the mirror in my room, the fabric sewn with a collection of flowers, of roses and lilies, everything that bloomed in the gardens all year-round.
The sleeves were layered like the petals of a rose, and a sheer lace overlay covered the gown, making it possible to see the beautiful floral designs underneath.
A slit in the shape of a rose had been cut in the middle to showcase my stomach as I walked down the aisle.
The neckline would highlight my cleavage and the bare skin over my sternum.
It was beautiful and sexy and…I wished I were wearing it for someone other than him.
I put it on, and Kendra and the other girls styled my hair, placing a flower crown upon my head from what they had plucked in the greenhouse, the prized flowers we used to fill the vases in the castle to chase away the winter blues.
I looked at myself in the mirror, never feeling more beautiful in my life.
And never more depressed.
I looked into my cobalt eyes and saw a different woman from the one I used to know, a woman visibly burdened by duty, forced into a sacrifice she didn’t want to make. And I did it all to wear a crown upon my brow—a crown that would probably put a kink in my neck.
But it was my duty.
The maids escorted me into the gardens, the lush greenery outside the castle only accessible to the royals, where the weddings were held in view of the nurtured flowers. Every season, there was something else to appreciate, but the winter was the barest.
I always assumed I would marry in spring, when the flowers were the most vibrant and colorful, the warmth enough to cause me a small sweat. Today had a cloudless sky, but it was cold and dry, and I watched my heat leave my body every time I breathed.
Vulgaris stood underneath the white gazebo that had been fitted with hanging flowers, pink and fragrant, harvested from the greenhouse to lie to the sky and proclaim it was spring.
But my bones ached from the cold.
He stood in the same uniform I saw him wear almost every day, no coat because he chose to bear the cold rather than cover the crest upon his chest. Eyes identical to mine in pained indifference, he looked at me like it was any other day—not a wedding day.
Our wedding day.
I approached with unease, with a stiffness that was only partially due to the cold, feeling solemn when my happiness should blossom. To the sound of the harp, I came forth and stood before the priest in white robes who awaited me.
Vulgaris turned to face me. He didn’t offer his hand or let his eyes wander over my dress. He was a stoic man who was hard to read, like a page with ink that bled to the corners. But he seemed to be as dismayed by all of this as I was.
In the presence of my maids, the Ring of Elders, and the High Priest, we married in a winter garden, on the coldest day of the year, the day that my hopes and dreams died in the frozen air.