Chapter 32 #2
At last we reached the palace temple. The organ music inside was a continuous stream of notes that could, at any time, transition to the announcement of the bride.
The doors opened. All eyes turned to me, and the pianist’s wedding march commenced. I stepped into the aisle, attention snapping to the altar where Nicolas stood, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight of him.
Gold epaulettes adorned his shoulders, military braiding crossed his chest, and a ceremonial saber hung at his hip—the only thing close to a weapon that was allowed on site.
His hair was down, pushed back from his face in cascading waves.
The deep blue wool of his military coat was so finely woven it absorbed the dusk light that poured in from the window above.
But it was his expression that stopped my heart, for Nicolas stared at me the way a man might regard the sun after years of darkness.
The courtiers’ whispers died as I passed. I caught glimpses of familiar faces among them, but my focus returned inevitably to Nicolas.
When I reached him, he took my hand. His eyes were wide with surprise, and the briefest glimpse of naked terror, before he mastered himself. It was as if he worried I’d never come.
How near it had come to precisely that.
The High Eunuch cleared his throat and began. “Dearly beloved: we gather in twilight to witness the union of Crown Prince Nicolas Callan and Princess Alana Chastain, joining two souls in sacred covenant in the sight of both gods.”
Nicolas brushed a thumb over my knuckles. I knew he didn’t hear a word the priest was saying, and for that matter, neither did I. How could I hear anything over my own heartbeat? The fear alone was enough to strangle me.
The High Eunuch droned on. I studied Nicolas from beneath my lashes.
His hands were steadier now, warm and gentle.
When King Artyom of Rividinya coughed loudly from the pews, a deliberate slight, Nicolas’ teeth clenched, but his touch held fast. He was letting them all know, through this display of tender caution, that I was a precious thing, a woman worthy of his respect, and that all others should follow his lead.
Any tolerance he exhibited now would not continue outside of the temple.
This could be worse, I thought. Perhaps it might even become something good. Two broken people helping the other become whole. He would shield me, and when he needed it, I would be his blade. We would live.
I squeezed his hand. I could do this.
“The sun and moon are flush,” said the priest. “The Lady binds this woman to this man. The Lord seals their union with a kiss.”
Nicolas gave me one last chance to back out. An offer I didn’t realize he would honor, until now. If I turned to flee, he wouldn’t stop me.
I raised my hand to his neck, applying just enough pressure with my thumb that he tilted his head. Then I met him, my other hand falling to his waist. I felt his lips smiling against mine, then his sigh of relief.
Our foreheads touched as we parted, a private gesture shared for spectacle. Let the fools gawk at their prince for marrying a commoner, and let them seethe with envy for the bride who looked at him like no woman ever beheld a man.
“Behold, the union is complete! The gods smile upon Antier this day.”
The gods didn’t give two shits, but by the eruption of applause, it was clear that many people did. Nicolas tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow, movements practiced from years of court protocol.
“Now comes the worst of it,” he whispered as we descended from the altar.
We made our way through the crowd that spilled from the temple back into the ballroom.
Nicolas removed my train, handing it off to a servant, and we joined the well-wishers within their strategic clusters.
Every one of them hoped to gain favor with the newlyweds, even if they disapproved of the union, but Nicolas navigated the treacherous crowd like a seasoned captain.
Higher up, on the third floor reserved for royalty, Queen Adelaide observed the proceedings like a hawk from its aerie. Her hands were folded over her emerald gown, as unreadable as she could be, but I knew what she was waiting for.
I smiled at the courtiers, nodding as I tried to ignore the queen’s stare. My hold tightened upon the prince, and, when it seemed appropriate, I turned my eyes up at him with doting affections. I relished in the jealousy I observed.
Until I didn’t.
“Your Highnesses.” Quinn’s voice cut through the chatter.
He stood before us in his fashionable attire, but his stiff posture befitted a guard more than a guest. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, and I tried not to tense up; then he found something past my shoulder to focus on.
“It was a beautiful ceremony. May your hearts find harmony.”
His blessing had all the warmth of winter snow.
“Quinn,” Nicolas acknowledged with a nod. “Enough formalities, brother. You’re exquisitely dressed. No doubts you’ll be finding a lovely woman to dance with this evening?”
Quinn’s expression quirked, just barely. “I imagine I shall struggle to find any woman whose loveliness remotely compares to your bride.”
“Quinn…” I hesitated, and the viscount took my moment of weakness to bow and retreat without so much as another glance. He disappeared among the other Hadrians, acting as though nothing was amiss.
Perhaps he hated me now.
Perhaps that was best.
Before I could dwell on that, familiar voices rose from my right. My parents pressed forward, Mother’s makeup once again rendering her a stranger.
“Oh, Alana! You look so—oh, Logan, look at our daughter!”
My father stood transfixed, a weak smile forming. He’d seen my husband abduct me from the woods. He must have wondered how I’d come to love the man as strongly as it appeared.
“Maybe we were wrong,” Mother said quietly. “It seems you were blessed, all this time, not cursed. What a fortunate fate.”
My stomach contorted. I tried to smile, but the comment had thrown me off-balance. This was not fortune. It was survival.
“I am the one who is blessed,” Nicolas said, filling my silence. “Forgive me, my new mother and father—if I may call you that.” He paused, watching Mother’s expression liven with pleasure. “I’d like to dance with my wife before the wine renders the crowd hazardous.”
My parents bowed and backed away, and Nicolas took me by the hand. As he guided me to the center floor, the musicians took their cue and played an intimate piece, one intended solely for the bride and groom.
“Thank the gods for you,” I whispered. “Ever since I’ve come here, my mother…”
I couldn’t finish. Nicolas understood, tucking one of my loose curls behind my ear. “She thought you’d lead a hard life and now sees only your luxuries. Forgive her and come to me.”
He pulled me against him, our noses touching as we spun a tight circle about each other. The music swelled, and he lifted me just enough that my feet left the ground. When he set me down, he kept me close, swaying gently.
“I know you might have chosen another fate for yourself, if you had the opportunity. I claimed you the moment we first met. But I promise you this…” He paused, lowering his voice to a mere breath in my ear.
“I will never cage you. You’ll come and go as you please, wherever you want.
You’re my wild lady, and I will not see you tamed. ”
My throat tightened. I looked into his eyes. “And what of you, Nicolas?”
“What of me?”
“You need freedom, too. From the burdens of the crown, from the image you uphold.”
For a few notes, his steps faltered. His gaze left mine, and when he spoke, his voice was a raw whisper. “I don’t know what freedom feels like. I see threats everywhere. Even now, I’m calculating exits, watching shadows.”
I pressed my thumb gently into his palm where our hands were joined, a small, grounding motion. His eyes snapped back to mine and I held him steady as I guided us into the next turn, taking the lead until his breathing evened.
Nicolas hummed with gratitude, resting his head on the crook of my neck. “Perhaps I’ll find refuge in your arms.”
The court watched and whispered all around us, but for the way he looked at me, we might have been alone in the world. And I wasn’t afraid.
As the drinks continued to pour, the affair became increasingly boisterous.
Dances lost their formality for displays of a more whimsical nature.
Someone pulled a curtain rod down and the men began to contest each other in their limberness, bending over backwards as low as they could while the rod went lower with each round.
I stepped back from such action, watching with amusement and momentarily forgetting the expectations that were settling in.
Even when Nicolas took my hand, spiriting me away from the eyes around the ballroom, it hadn’t caught up to me.
It took the sight of the full moon for me to remember.