One,Two?
Chapter twelve
Sacrifice is honorable. She repeated the words with every step she took toward her future husband. Her lips felt like someone was pulling them up for her, forcing her to smile.
“Are you all right, dear?” her father murmured halfway down the aisle.
What a foolish inquiry, Lucianna thought. Of course she wasn’t fine—she was being given away to a stranger. And yet her normally intelligent father had questioned her three times this morning. She dipped her chin to reassure him, the same as she did before.
They reached the end of the aisle. Lucianna blinked and tried to settle her frantic pulse.
She worried she might faint. She’d barely eaten anything the night before, and this morning she couldn’t stomach more than chamomile tea with honey, which she’d forced herself to drink for the benefit of her aching throat.
Never before had she called upon her Gift on such a regular basis.
She hoped she would have time in silence where she would be able to rest it further.
It had been impulsive on her part to speak with her Gift when she first encountered the Valengards.
But Lucianna had needed to claim something, to rebel in some small way in the face of her every choice being stripped away.
Now, she was paying for her decision. Eventually she would have to be honest, but not yet.
This false voice was a fortress to hide within.
She wouldn’t come out until she knew whether the Valengards were friends or foes.
Duke Morrowe turned to his daughter and grasped her hands. His smile was tremulous, and Lucianna’s breath caught at the sight.
“You look beautiful, so much like your mother,” he rasped.
Lucianna bit the inside of her cheek. This was not how her wedding day was supposed to go.
And yet, perhaps it was. She had been destined for her marriage to be arranged from the moment she was born.
Lucianna supposed that even though this was a rushed venture, it was still nothing different than what she’d been brought up learning.
But . . . still her heart ached. She’d never considered herself a romantic.
Perhaps she had simply buried the notions out of sight, only for them to spring up like weeds at an inopportune moment.
“Do not think for a moment that this choice means I will not miss you sorely,” the duke said, a furrow in his brow. “As soon as you are home safe, I expect you to visit often.”
Lucianna looked down at her ivory wedding gown. This was not the time or place she wanted to have such a discussion. She fluttered her lashes, the simple pearl embroidery on her dress blurring due to her tears.
“I will,” she promised in her own voice, barely above a whisper.
When she raised her head again, she saw her father’s desire to say more. Lucianna shook her head. She couldn’t handle more than this. Her strength was fading.
He cleared his throat and nodded once decisively.
“I love you.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I love you too.”
Lucianna accepted her father’s hand. He led her up the steps to the dais, then placed her hand in Finnick’s. His skin was warm, and she thought she might have detected the smallest of tremors before his grip tightened ever so slightly. She stared down at their joined hands.
“I recognize this situation was not born out of affection on either of your parts,” Father spoke, surprising Lucianna.
She’d thought he’d leave her right away.
“But I believe you to be a man of integrity. Hold fast to the vows you make. My daughter is capable—of this I made sure—but you are to take care of her. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir. I do not make vows lightly.” Finnick’s response was not derisive, nor was it threaded with amusement. His words were given sincerely. If he were lying, then he was far too good an actor for her to tell.
“Good. Then I look forward to calling you my son.”
Duke Morrowe patted Finnick once on the shoulder, then gave Lucianna one last parting look before walking down the dais to his seat beside Damon. Lucianna met her brother’s gaze for a breath, before tearing her eyes away. She couldn’t bear the grief in his expression.
The music that filled the ballroom stopped. Unsettling silence blanketed the space. Lucianna’s breathing turned shallow.
“Welcome, and thank you all for coming,” Prince Castien spoke. It was the first time she had even noticed his presence on the dais. She’d been so occupied with her thoughts. Even now, she could scarcely make out his words on account of the panic barreling through her veins.
Finnick grasped her other hand, then squeezed them both.
She startled and looked at him. There was a gentleness to his expression that surprised her.
Sunlight cast him in shades of pale gold.
He looked more like a prince than a commander’s son in that moment.
His suit was finely tailored, the inky-black fabric making his bright eyes stand out all the more.
Her mind conjured up a crown nestled in his haphazard curls.
Tides, he was handsome. As much as Lucianna wished to deny it, she couldn’t.
Castien’s voice pulled her out of her imagination.
“The couple will now recite the traditional Enclavian vows,” the prince announced.
Lucianna’s stomach swooped. Her vision began to swim, forcing her to hold tight to Finnick, lest her knees give out.
“Don’t swoon on my account, little thief,” Finnick murmured too quietly for anyone but her—and maybe Castien—to hear.
Lucianna dug her fingernails into his skin and glared as her gaze cleared. Finnick chuckled in response.
“That’s better. I’d hate to have to carry you out of here.” He winked.
“Lady Lucianna, repeat after me, if you will.” Castien interrupted her before she could reply to Finnick.
Castien walked her through the vows, and with each verse, Lucianna’s throat grew tighter. She was all too aware of the fact that it wasn’t her making these promises at all, but the stolen voice of a stranger.
“I, Lucianna Morrowe, swear that as long as the Star of Adira occupies the sky, as long as the Tides rise and roses bloom—that long shall I belong to you. From this day forward, what is of me is of you. Our souls are intertwined. Our breath one and the same.
“I vow to fight beside and for you. To remain with you despite sickness, calamity, or war. I will love you until I have left this plane, and even then, my spirit will bear the mark of my promise.”
Her chest rose and fell as she stared into Finnick’s sapphire gaze. She realized she was still clutching his hands, her nails pressing hard into his warm skin. Lucianna loosened her grip—only to find he was holding tight to her like one grasps a rope thrown to them while lost at sea.
There was a slight wrinkle in his brow. She had a sudden, frightening urge to smooth it away but did not give in. He studied her, not saying a word. There was something in the way his eyes bored into hers that made her feel as if someone had ripped her gown off her body and left her bare.
“Finn,” Castien prompted in a gravelly murmur. “It is your turn.”
Finnick reared his head back, then blinked several times. His hold on her lightened just barely before he began to speak. Though she wished to look away, to run away, she was transfixed by the intensity of his expression.
“I, Finnick Valengard, swear that as long as the Star of Adira occupies the sky, as long as the Tides rise and roses bloom—that long shall I belong to you. From this day forward, what is of me is of you. Our souls are intertwined. Our breath one and the same.
“I vow to fight beside and for you. To remain with you despite sickness, calamity, or war. I will love you until I have left this plane, and even then, my spirit will bear the mark of my promise.”
Finnick’s voice echoed through the ballroom and her heart. What would it be like, she pondered, for these words to be true?
Castien announced the next step: the exchanging of the rings.
They released each other long enough for her to slide a gold band onto Finnick’s left hand, and for him to do the same to hers.
The ring was solid gold, with no engravings or embellishments.
She couldn’t help the pang of disappointment.
Perhaps one day she could purchase something that felt more true to herself.
As soon as the rings were on, Finnick’s hands clasped hers again.
“I now present to you Lord Finnick Valengard and his wife, Lady Lucianna Valengard.” Castien’s voice reverberated through the room.
Applause rang out. Lucianna met Finnick’s gaze again.
He glanced meaningfully at their hands. His letter, she recalled.
It was her decision what he did in this moment.
Finnick leaned in. The sweet scent of cinnamon bathed her senses and muddied her mind.
All she could hear was his voice promising to love her beyond death.
She squeezed once. Finnick pressed in closer, dropping one of her hands to rest his on her waist. His breath fanned her face.
Panic shot through her, clearing her senses right as his lips neared hers.
She quickly squeezed his hand again. He stilled. Turned slightly. And brushed his lips against her cheek.