Page 153 of Fearless

Feet shuffle; heads turn. My body trembles; heart thrashes against my chest.

The look I’m wearing is alarming enough to have hushed whispers wafting over the crowd. I don’t hear them—I don’t hear anything past the blood pounding in my ears. My gaze lifts from the flowered aisle, dragging up slowly to meet the king’s.

He stands atop the dais, a Scholar behind him. A crown is perched atop a pedestal, its silver points elegantly lethal. Long emerald gems are fastened around it, only emphasizing the delicacy that deadly things often have.

I blink at it vaguely before recognition dawns on me. This is Queen Mareena’s crown—the trophy of my first Trial. It has been restored, impressively, to the ethereal state it likely once was. A lump forms in my throat at the thought of placing it on my head after robbing the first queen’s body of it.

The king’s own golden crown sits among his hair, paired with the deep green suit he wears beneath. Kitt’s eyes gleam, bright beneath the canopy of drooping flowers. Though the dark smudges surroundingthem have been expertly concealed, the ashen color of his skin is stark within the swarm of color.

He looks as lost as I feel.

His hands fidget with the cuffs of his sleeves, twisting the buttons there incessantly.

He doesn’t want this either.

In another life, I might have offered him a comforting smile. Might have walked down this aisle on my father’s arm. But this life is harsh, and cruel, and has barely allowed me to live it.

And worst of all, I do not love him.

The thought is jolting, not because it shocks me, but because I have finally allowed myself not to want this. So many weeks have been spent justifying this union—for the kingdom, the Ordinaries, the hope of a better future. But what of my own? I do not love this man. No, it is his brother I have given my heart to.

Calum urges me forward with his arm twined around mine. I take my first step. Lips move around me—I don’t hear what they say. Kitt is staring at me with a distant look that smothers the handsome features of his face.

I walk stiffly to that altar, every step more damning than the last. Calum is an anchor at my side, helping to guide me to this fate. This is duty, I remind myself. This is hope for the future and forgiveness of the past. This is sacrifice.

One foot in front of the other.

My chest heaves.

I do not want this.

Kitt reaches for my hand.

I do not love him.

I hesitate. My heart stutters, begging me to damn sacrifice and choose selfishness. Choose Kai. Choose love.

But I’m not sure I know how to choose myself anymore. Or perhaps I never have. So I take the king’s arm, letting him guide me onto the dais. His skin is worryingly warm.

Roses surround us—a large crown of them above our heads and petals beneath our feet. I turn to face the king before allowing him to pull my slick palms into his own. We stare at each other, unsurety shrouding each of our faces. My heart pounds beneath the displayed scar etched into flushed skin, the sound echoing in my ears. I feel suddenly hollow, as though I have no control over my limbs, my life.

The Scholar begins speaking between us. I don’t want to hear his damning words, but they pelt me just the same.

“… gather here today to join Kitt Azer, king and savior of Ilya, and the lady Paedyn Gray in holy matrimony. Bear witness to their union and…”

My ears begin to ring, blotting out the bellowed decree. I stare pointedly at Kitt for any sign of regret or change of heart. But, terrifyingly, he looks rather content to stitch his soul to mine. That only has my gaze flicking frantically over the crowd in the hopes of finding some way out of this.

We can’t possibly go through with this.

The Scholar slips a ring onto Kitt’s left hand.

Right?

“Do you, Kitt Azer, take Paedyn Gray to be your wife and queen?”

My eyes crash into the green ones before me. I think I’ve stopped breathing. Kitt stares at me long enough to have hope sparking in my tightening chest. But the words that fall from his lips do not mirror that hesitance. “I do.”

I feel dizzy. The Scholar turns his attention to me.

---