Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Hence, no time for courting when the balance of power hangs by a thread.
The Goldweeds have been meddlesome for as long as I can remember, always trying to influence my late father, always trying to outshine Kyranis in front of his people.
And now, even on my wedding day, Tristan brings me news I don’t want to hear.
“What are they complaining about this time? The seating plan at the celebration?” I snap in frustration.
“Sylvan requests for you to be present during the testing of sea salt,” Tristan shakes his head, but his gaze trails over my shoulder, to Luke. Suddenly, I want to scratch Tristan’s golden eyes out, even though he is only doing his duty.
Maybe I should choke all the Goldweeds with my shadow instead and make it look like a despair attack? Heartbreak’s spawn aren’t that much of a challenge on their own, but being surprised by a herd can have deadly consequences. While my cousins are all gifted shadow wielders, their deaths wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. I could deal with the gossip once I ascend my throne. Then again, their parents could always have more children—
“I’ll take care of everything, Your Highness,” Reiner says, as if he really thinks he’s being helpful.
“My hat,” Luke says, pointing Tristan’s way.
Tristan’s smile widens, and the kohl lining his eyes can’t dim their glow. “May I keep it?”
“You don’t need to give him anything,” I say, because the last thing I want is to part my promised from his precious possessions. Even those as ugly as this hat.
Luke shakes his head. “You can keep it.”
“Pretty and generous,” Tristan says, and I can’t push him out into the corridor fast enough. If he were any other knight, he’d be getting a slap, but as my cousin, he does have more privileges.
“His boots are clean. You don’t need to lick them so early in the morning,” I say, then face Luke, who watches me with the same soulful eyes that glazed over so many times last night.
Tristan has no idea just how pretty my promised can be in the throes of passion, and he will never know, because that will be for my eyes only.
“Will you be away for long?” Luke asks.
He’s missing me already, be still my heart!
I step close and take both his hands to my lips to kiss each knuckle. “I will be back as soon as I can, my darling,” I say, meeting his eyes, and while this is the thing to say on the day of our wedding, my words come straight from the heart. Moments later, as I’m about to step away like the gallant prince I’m supposed to be, I press my mouth to his lips for a second of absolute bliss.
I can already hear the wedding fanfare.
Chapter 12
Luke
Ithought the outfit I got in the morning was an elaborate gothic dream.
What I’m dressed in for my wedding (something I still can’t fathom is happening) exceeds all expectations I may have had. It consists of fabrics that don’t exist in my world, and a team of elves needed two hours to put it all on me as I played the role of their docile puppet.
I’m wearing at least fifty shades of gray (pun unintended). If I were to encapsulate what the designer was going for, I’d say, he attempted to transform me into a sexy moth who has more money than sense, and a flair for the dramatic.
Which actually captures my personality quite well if I consider my future husband’s riches mine.
A long cape drags behind me as I walk, attached to both my nape and wrists, and embroidered with shimmering thread to resemble a moth’s wings. My new breeches are like second skin, and over the flamboyant black lace shirt, I’m wearing something between jewelry and armor. The silver chest piece resembles a ribcage, it’s decorated with pearls in several shades, and makes me feel like a minor god of death. If that wasn’t elaborate enough, I’ve donned a matching tiara of silver seaweed.
My ears were not spared and are now both pierced and adorned with elongated black crystals. The servant responsible for the jewelry tut-tutted for the longest time over my nose ring but let me keep it in the end.
If the outfit itself wasn’t insanity straight from a deranged haute couture catwalk, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I don’t even recognize my face.
The eyedrops they put in my eyes make my whites appear black, and the paint on my cheekbones swirls up and down, decorated with matte crystals. I wouldn’t be out of place at a KISS concert.
Or at an Alexander McQueen show.
But while I’m stunned by the quality of clothes and accessories that would have made quite the wave if I posted myself wearing them on social media, my thoughts keep wandering to Kyran.