11. Liliviere
Liliviere
When we arrive at the reception—which, personally, I would rather skip, but with public opinion already against our match, that wouldn’t be a good idea—I change quickly into the second dress Julian procured for me.
I really have to give him a bonus when things settle down.
Despite his reservations, he’s gone above and beyond to make this bonkers wedding happen.
I can feel the tension radiating from Malakai’s body. He barely sees what I’m wearing, a shorter, more modern white dress that hugs my curves and is better for dancing than the cathedral-length lace and tulle version I wore for the ceremony.
“We’ll leave as soon as we cut the cake,” I tell him reassuringly. “People want to congratulate us, that’s all.”
“That will take forever,” he grumbles.
Across the ballroom, a string quartet plays an elegant waltz while crystal chandeliers scatter warm light across hundreds of guests. My stomach drops. He’s right. We will be here forever.
The heralds blow trumpets and announce, “Their Imperial Majesties Emperor Malakai and Empress Liliviere.”
Subdued applause ripples through the room.
I catch sight of Kenton, dutifully clapping his big hands without a trace of enthusiasm.
He looks exhausted and resentful. Honestly, I can’t blame him.
His father has barely released my hand since that scrum outside the cathedral.
Before that, he was ready to take me on the altar. I was ready for that, too.
My stepson sees my dismay and smirks. I cast him a narrow glare. I was ready to let bygones be bygones, but now? What a selfish little prick he is. Can’t he find a way to be happy that his father has found someone to love after all these years?
I’m not going to replace his mother. I wouldn’t dream of trying.
“I need some air,” I murmur to my husband.
“I’ll escort you,” he says instantly. I smile.
“You don’t have to accompany me everywhere.” I pat his arm reassuringly. Well-wishers press in from all sides. This dress is too tight to breathe. There wasn’t time for alterations.
“I know I don’t. But I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he says.
“You don’t trust me to walk onto a balcony by myself?”
“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s all of them.” He gazes out at the crowd. I realize how lonely it must have been for him all these years. Leading without letting anyone get close. Always holding himself apart, even from his own sons.
Out on the balcony, cool evening air brushes my cheeks. Below us, the palace gardens glow with thousands of tiny string lights suspended from the ornamental trees.
“This is lovely,” I whisper. In the distance, the capital city stretches out into the rolling hills, far beyond the castle walls. No signs of war or strife. “You brought this peace to the land.” I twine my fingers through his.
“Not alone. It was a massive undertaking to end the war and begin rebuilding.”
“You have so much to be proud of.” I turn to him. He’s not looking at the gardens or the cityscape beyond. He’s looking at me.
“The view is stunning,” he says gruffly. Heat stains my cheeks. I smile shyly.
“You’re not looking at the view.”
“You are the only view I need, Lili.” He kisses me. Despite the formal vows we spoke before the bishop, this feels far more intimate and meaningful. His lips are warm and strong on mine. I open to him. Our tongues tangle. His hand slides down my hip to cup my ass.
“Let’s get back in there and get this over with,” he growls, leaving me stewing in my own want. “I can’t wait to get you out of this dress.”
We cut the cake. We start the dancing. I have my obligatory father-daughter dance with my grandfather, since my parents are both dead. “I wish they were here to see this, Lili,” he says wistfully.
“I do, too, Grandpa.”
When the song is over, he hands me off to Malakai. “I expect you to take very good care of our princess, Your Majesty,” he says solemnly. “She is the light of Kellimar. You must keep her safe.”
“I will,” Malakai answers solemnly.
No sooner has he spoken than a sharp crack splits the night.
I frown in confusion. Fireworks? But why would those be going off indoors?
Beside me, Malakai’s body goes rigid. His hand clamps around my waist. Hard.
“Lili,” he says. Another explosion splits the air.
Screaming fills the room. He lifts me off my feet and carries me, breaking into a sprint toward the nearest exit.
The double doors we came through barely an hour ago explode inward on a billowing cloud of fire and smoke.
Guests push each other down, trampling one another in their desperation to get away.
I gape at the scene in shock and horror.
“Get down! This is an attack!”
“Protect the emperor!”
“Majesty! Where are you?”
Malakai doesn’t turn his head. He is fixated on reaching an unobtrusive doorway against one wall. He sets me down long enough to slam his palm against a device mounted on the wall beside it. A red light scans his hand, and the door pops open.
“Inside,” he growls, and shoves me through.
“Mal!” I shout. “Don’t leave me alone!”
A burly man in a black suit, one of his guards, appears beside us. “Go with her, sir. We’ll handle this.”
I can see the way my husband is torn between wanting to fight and wanting to stay with me, so I grab him by the shirt and drag him in after me. The guard closes us inside. The lock clicks electronically into place.
“What is this place?” I stare around the barren room. In one corner is a cot. Standing against the opposite wall is a row of shelves with survival gear—boxed meals, water, a microwave, garbage bags, gloves, a medical kit, sleeping bags, guns, etc.
“A safe room,” he says, taking my face between his palms. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine. But the others—what about your sons—”
“You are the only one who matters, Lili.” His mouth crashes down on mine.
In the back of my mind, an alarm bell rings, but it’s hard to hear over the cacophony of sensations rolling through my body.
He is desperate to touch me. I know he needs reassurance that I’m safe, but he is the emperor.
Even on his wedding day, he cannot simply ignore his people during an attack.
Yet that concern recedes into the distant corners of my mind. We’re finally alone—and I am so, so ready to lose my v-card, even if it happens in a bunker.