Sisters
Chapter nine
Lucianna was stiff as she lowered herself into the seat Finnick directed her to. Upon their entrance, the conversation lulled but was now returning to its prior volume.
“Are you well?” Damon asked to her right.
Lucianna’s eyes followed her betrothed as he rounded the length of the table so that he’d be seated across from her. His smile was easy, his blue eyes temperate waters when just moments ago they’d been cold as ice.
“And you . . . possess nothing I desire.”
The words played over and over in her mind.
“Lucianna,” Damon prompted, then lowered his voice. “Did he hurt you?”
She hesitated in answering. Damon began to stand. Lucianna reached out and grasped her brother’s arm.
“Do not be foolish,” she snapped under her breath. “Even if he had, it is not as though you could challenge him in a room full of royalty.”
“I would if I needed to,” Damon replied in a terse tone. “But he did not?”
Lucianna shook her head. Not physically, which is what Damon was inquiring about. What did it matter if her feelings were hurt? It would not remove from her the responsibility of carrying the Morrowe name.
To her left, Princess Wren turned a curious gaze her way. Lucianna had been so caught off guard by the conversation with Finnick that she hadn’t thought to pay attention to those seated closest to her.
“Is everything all right, Lady Lucianna?” she inquired in a honey-sweet tone.
“Of course,” Lucianna lied with a false smile. “I am merely anxious being in the presence of so much royalty.”
Though that wasn’t the main cause of her inner turmoil, it did play a role.
Lucianna was no stranger to finery, but this was far more extravagance than even she was used to.
Before her was an array of gleaming white dishes with gold-dipped edges sporting hand-painted emerald accents.
A crystal cup was filled to the brim with what was sure to be the finest berry wine in all the Seven Havens.
An abundance of flowers and woven greenery lined the center of the table, broken up by clusters of beeswax candles in gold candelabras.
And surrounding all of it, were the highest ranking members of society in the Lucent Enclave.
Empress Alora Valengard sat at one end of the table, her emerald-studded crown perched atop perfectly pinned hair.
Wren and Castien were seated closest to her, but Lucianna was not far away, and she was grateful that the empress seemed focused on her son for the time being.
On the other end of the table, Emperor Theodus Valengard sat tall, speaking to her father and Commander Artavius with a balance of warmth and authority.
The remainder of the table—aside from one empty chair beside Finnick—was filled with advisors and generals she did not know the names of but recognized their station by their elaborate state of dress and the pins denoting their ranks.
“You will grow used to it with time,” Wren said with a reassuring smile. “It was difficult for me at first, as well. Now I view most everyone here as family.”
“Because you are family,” the empress spoke, her warm brown eyes shifting toward Wren and Lucianna. “As you will be soon enough, Lady Lucianna. How are you feeling about your impending nuptials?”
Lucianna donned a smile that she hoped seemed eager.
“I am looking forward to them. My father tells me that you had a hand in much of the planning, which I am immensely grateful for. It is certain to be beautiful.”
Empress Alora smiled graciously. Though she was kind, it was difficult for Lucianna to not be intimidated in her presence.
The woman was the epitome of royal elegance in her deep-red gown and layers of pearls around her neck.
A large diamond glinted on her ring finger as she grasped the stem of her wine glass.
“Yes, well, it was a feat to pull off a wedding worthy of our sweet Finn in such a short time. I regret that I didn’t have the opportunity to include you in the planning as I did with Wren.” She looked at her daughter-in-law with motherly affection that made Lucianna’s heart ache for hers.
Lucianna glanced at Finnick, who seemed to be listening, still wearing that infuriatingly relaxed expression.
She wondered what he was hiding behind that crafted expression, if it was crafted at all.
She knew he had lost his mother several years ago, as the entire Lucent Enclave went into mourning out of respect.
Did he think of her in times like this, just as she did hers?
Lucianna pushed away the thought. It didn’t matter.
He made his feelings toward her clear before they walked into the room.
She would not share in grief or joy with her husband, only duty.
“Sweet Finn sounds like an oxymoron to me, Mother,” Prince Castien spoke, smirking over his crystal glass.
Lucianna noticed that it was filled with water as opposed to wine.
As was Finnick’s. Her gaze dipped to Wren’s glass.
Hers too. Lucianna eyed her wine warily.
Why weren’t they drinking? Lucianna would think it was poisoned, but the rest of the table was merrily enjoying the substance. It still struck her as odd, though.
“Finnick is sweet as those honeycakes Wren loves. He always has been,” Empress Alora said. “I remember the days when he used to follow Maris and I around in the gardens, picking dandelions to give us.”
Finnick glanced down for a moment. Lucianna thought she glimpsed a flash of pain, but when he lifted his head again his expression was devoid of anything but amusement.
“What do you think, darling Wren? Does my demeanor match up to your favorite dessert?” Finnick asked with a smirk.
Prince Castien gave his cousin a dry look, while Princess Wren let out a laugh that sounded like the tinkle of bells.
Her Highness was equal in beauty and grace to the empress, if not more so.
She wore an opalescent gown that shifted pink in the candlelight.
When Lucianna looked closely she noticed the outline of butterflies embroidered across the bodice of the dress.
There were tiny flowers speckled throughout her pale blonde hair, and atop it was a tiara of light pink jewels.
She looked like she stepped out of the pages of one of the fairy tales Lucianna’s mother used to read to her before she died.
“Perhaps if you added cayenne to the recipe,” she teased, and the empress joined in her laughter.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Finnick replied.
“Of course you will,” Princess Wren laughed. “I’m convinced you could turn the most heinous of insults into a compliment.”
Finnick’s eyes darted to Lucianna, then back to Wren so fast Lucianna wondered if she imagined it.
“I’m not certain of that, but it would be an interesting game to be sure.”
The doors on the opposite end of the dining hall opened, drawing Lucianna’s eye. She had expected servants to be entering with the first course, but instead a girl of twelve or thirteen with complexion similar to Finnick darted into the room.
“Where is she?” the young girl asked as she rushed toward the empty seat beside Finnick. Her pale blue dress dotted with white bows and pearls flounced with each exuberant step.
“Who?” Finnick asked with raised brows.
The girl rolled her eyes. “My future sister, of course!” She looked across the table, her bright eyes locking onto Lucianna. “It’s her, isn’t it? Are you Lucianna?”
“Lady Lucianna,” the empress corrected. “What is the point of having a governess teach you all day if you do not utilize any of the lessons?”
The girl let out a dramatic sigh. “I ask myself that every day, Aunt Alora.”
The empress shook her head, pursing her lips to disguise a smile. Meanwhile, the prince and princess laughed, as did Finnick.
“You are just as reckless and incorrigible as your brother was at your age.”
“I thought he was sweet,” Castien teased.
Lucianna mentally filled in who the young lady was. Marina, Finnick’s younger sister, if she recalled her father’s notes correctly.
“I’m beginning to think perhaps Wren’s observation was right,” Empress Alora said.
Finnick’s mouth dropped open in mock outrage. He looked down at his sister. Side by side, their similarities were incredibly apparent. Their eyes were the same disconcerting blue, and they possessed identical honey-colored curls.
“Do you hear this slander? We must plot our revenge immediately.”
Marina’s button nose scrunched.
“Perhaps later. After I’ve been properly introduced to your wife.”
Finnick chuckled, betraying none of his earlier sentiments toward Lucianna.
“She is not my wife until tomorrow, but . . .” He gestured to Lucianna. “Lady Lucianna, this is my sister, Lady Marina.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Lucianna replied. She was uncertain of what to do with all of the girl’s energy. Everyone else seemed to understand this marriage was not one born of love or even mutual admiration. Marina either saw things differently or did not care.
“Likewise.” Marina’s grin was infectious. “I was so excited when Cas brought back Birdie from the academy. I’ve been deprived of sisters my whole life,” she lamented. “But now I have two!”
As Marina was speaking, the doors opened again, this time for servants with silver platters of food.
They entered with practiced efficiency. Every movement was as crisp as their starched white uniforms. They framed the table, then set down the first course in unison.
Once the food had been deposited, two servants broke off to go in a line down the table refilling drinks as needed, starting with the Emperor and Empress.
Two others checked the oil in the sconces affixed about the room, and two more replaced candles that were close to burning out.
Lucianna tore her gaze away from the ordered opulence and focused on her future sister-in-law who was apparently more fond of nicknames than formalities, if her use of Birdie was any indication.
“Well, I suppose if we are sisters, then you also have another brother.” Lucianna touched Damon’s arm. It was tense beneath her hand, as if he was bracing for impact. “This is my older brother, Lord Damon.”
“So you grew up without sisters, too?” Marina asked.
Lucianna nodded. “I did.”
“So did Birdie!” Marina exclaimed. “It must be fate that we’re all together now.”
“It must be,” Lucianna forced out. The sound of the stolen voice grated on her when faced with Marina’s excitement.
For the first time since she’d arrived at the castle, Lucianna felt guilty for using a voice that wasn’t her own.
She doubted the young girl would want to be her sister when she found out Lucianna was a liar.
Her gaze drifted to her future husband again.
Finnick was looking down at his plate, which was now occupied by a colorful salad.
The Emperor declared that the celebratory dinner was to begin, and everyone began eating.
Except for Finnick. Perhaps he was attempting to stomach the thought that their fates were intertwined, just as she was.