Page 9 of Straw and Gold
My mouth parted and I let out a sigh of relief and excitement as he stalked down the aisle of the throne room. Hundreds of people had gathered, crowded together to form two sides of the room—most straining their necks to get a good look at their future queen.
The man didn’tend.
He took up the entire walkway with broad shoulders, a height that towered well above my own, and a wide chest somehow wrangled into a cream shirt and dark blue jacket.
When he reached us at the throne room doors, Fedir spoke up. “My king, may I present to you Morella, Ravenfae Princess of the Brackish Wood, Daughter of Reshina, Goddess of the Veil, and sister of Korven, Cursebringer of Revelry.”
The king frowned at the captain who smirked in return until his face lit into a smile that swept across his dimpled cheeks. Killian turned his attention to me, his eyes trailing over my body as I did the same to him.
Finally coming to my senses, I bowed, dropping my hand from Fedir’s arm. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Majesty.”
I rose and clasped my hands in front of me, waiting for his next move.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, once again having a silent conversation with his captain, who struggled to contain his laughter. And once again, I felt out of the loop.
Fedir regained his composure, cleared his throat and stepped back.
Offering his arm, the king finally spoke in a deep voice that rang through the hall. “Shall we?”
That was it? That was all he could say?
I frowned, but took his arm anyway, embarrassed at how long the three of us had stood there.
A chill of cold sweat slipped down my back as the guests made room for both of us to walk down the aisle as complete strangers off to marry each other.
“Stay fucking focused, Morella,” I whispered under my breath.
My soon-to-be husband glanced down at me, his red locks sneaking loose from the golden pin holding them back. “What did you say?” he grumbled as we reached the dais and the priest from the Temple of the Goddess of the Veil.
“Tell you later,” I whispered back, my eyes locked on the priest who began his anointing of our marriage to be blessed by the thirteen fae Goddesses of Revelry.
Half-listening, I bit the inside of my lip repeatedly, keeping my head straight and side-eying the man next to me as much as possible. Annoyingly, he avoided looking in my direction at all, which was also quite convenient because I could study him much better if he kept to his profile.
His skin was a soft porcelain hue with a few freckles lining his nose and across his cheeks. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue, like a Moonstone itself. He was certainly very hairy.
Ravenfae didn’t grow much facial hair, so seeing such a bushel of a beard was fascinating. I wanted to run my fingers through. Would I catch something? A crust of bread? A small twig? A long-lost trinket?
He squeezed my hand rather hard as it was tucked into his arm, and I jerked my face away from where I’d been blatantly staring.
“Sorry?” I asked.
The priest cleared his throat, repeating, “Do you share this man’s hand in marriage along with his bed, meals, and faith in the wisdom of the Goddesses of the Veil?”
“Yes, I do,” I exhaled quickly, reddening from my lack of attention.
The man turned to Killian. “And do you share this woman’s hand in marriage along with her bed, meals, and faith in the wisdom of the Goddesses of the Veil?”
He nodded.
“Seriously?” I scoffed in a whisper.
He turned his head and scowled down at me.
More lip chewing began but I held his gaze.
Once again, the priest cleared his throat, muttering, “Your Majesty, it must be?—”
“Yes,” he gritted, staring me down the whole half second of the word.
