Relinquish(103)

“What are you thinking?” He hisses over my shoulder as he reaches to help me push the heavy door closed. “This is hardly the proper behavior of a woman madly in love with her soon-to-be-husband.”

“I don’t care.” I turn under his arm and rise to crush my lips against his, my hands tugging urgently on his coat. His eyes widen in surprise and for a moment seems unsure of what to do. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

With a groan, he gives in, pressing the length of his body against mine. The doorknob jabs into my spine. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The feel of the velvety coat under my fingers is wrong but as his lips trail down my neck, pausing at the hollow to place a fiery kiss, I can’t bring myself to care. I arch up into him as he grips my waist, needing to be closer.

My breath comes out in pants as I weave my hands through his short hair, realizing he has spiked it with some sort of gel that crunches when touched. He groans as I press up into him. His lips dance dangerously close to the plunging neckline of my dress.

I feel flushed, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, urging him on. He smiles against my sensitive skin as he places soft kisses just along the top of my chest. My leg curls around the back of his, forcing him to lean into me.

A loud knock at the door startles me. I cry out as Bastien lurches back and I lose my balance. “Illyria, the music is starting,” Alesta calls through the door.

“Crap.” Bastien reaches out to steady me against the wall before wrenching open the door and nearly sends Alesta tumbling into the room. “I have to go.”

I watch in disbelief as Bastien rushes away, smoothing his hair and straightening his jacket. He quickly disappears around the corner. “Are you alright?” Alesta asks, reaching out to grab onto me before I falter.

I press my hand against my lips, feeling how swollen they are from his touch. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Perhaps he couldn’t.” Alesta’s smile is soft with compassion. “I’m sorry, but you must take your place or the King will suspect.”

Nodding absently, I allow her to walk me out of the room and toward the set of double doors that lead into the throne room. She does her best to straighten the hairs that have fallen free from my clips, but I hardly notice as the doors swing inward and I am struck with the overwhelming scent of flowers.

The high ceilinged room is draped in flowers of all colors. Some bold with wide petals and large drooping leaves, others are smaller but softer in hue. I stare in wonder at the cascade of color all around.

Alesta did an amazing job.

I reach back and take her hand. “At least it’s stunning.”

She grins as she places an all-white bouquet in my hands. Aloysius felt it only fitting since I had so graciously agreed to the purple wedding dress.

I am drawn forward by the sound of music. The aisle before me seems to flow in endless rows of smiling faces. I can see beautiful hats with feathered plumes that stretch nearly two feet overhead and men dressed in fine silk suits who dip low as I pass.

The sounds of my shoes against the marble floor echoes in my ears, although I vaguely realize that it would be impossible to hear over the music. I keep my chin high and my shoulders back as I walk down the aisle.

Nearly halfway I realize that my knees have begun to quake and I’m dangerously close to collapsing. My stomach roils and a sheen of sweat beads along my brow. A man steps into the aisle, tall and thin and bearing a kind smile. “May I?”

I blink, surprised by his offered arm. Movement behind him captures my attention as I see my mother in the pew, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Illyria,” the man whispers as I allow him to take my arm. That one word, my name spoken on his lips tells me all I need to know. My father is walking me down the aisle.

I grip his arm tightly in gratitude. He leads me with grace and poise, never faltering in his steps. Looking forward I can see a deep purple runner has been placed over the steps leading up to the altar.

As we reach the final row of spectators, I get a wide-angle view. Aloysius stands regally beside an elderly man, whose graying beard stretches nearly to his knees. He is draped all in white and a great jeweled necklace-like ornament dangles from shoulder to shoulder.

I feel the cold wash over me, but just before it takes over completely my gaze shifts onto the person standing just behind my future husband. My steps falter.

He has chosen Bastien to be his best man.





Twenty-Three



I stare out of the window, feeling alone as mists crawl down from the mountains, highlighted by the setting of the sun. The ring on my finger and the crown upon my head feel like a heavy burden.