Page 40 of Blood Oath Christmas
I break the look first and go outside, my boots crunching over frost. The air is chilly and bites into my skin, my cheeks and nose instantly turning cold.
“You’re up early,” he says when I reach him.
I don’t sit on the bench. God, that iron has to be cold! Instead, I stand off to the side so that Konstantin turns his head to look at me. After a second, he stands as well, probably figuring I’m not going to sit down.
“Couldn’t sleep last night,” I say. “There’s just so much to do before the wedding.”
He raises a surprised eyebrow. “We’ve got your wedding dress. What else is bothering you?”
“Where are we getting married?” No point easing toward it.
His brow lifts a fraction. “Here. At the estate.”
I’m not surprised by the answer. There isn’t time to rent a nice church or hall. Well, maybe with Konstantin’s power and influence, he could. But there’s a small chapel here that’s nice.
“A priest I trust will perform the ceremony,” Konstantin says. His voice is steady, measured, not dismissive but final. “Some of my family will stand as witnesses as we exchange vows.”
The bluntness makes my stomach twist. “That’s it? That’s your idea of a wedding?”
He doesn’t flinch. “It’s my idea forthiswedding.”
“You make it sound like a transaction. Like you’re signing a contract with a business partner.”
His eyes narrow, though his tone remains calm. “You have been complaining about having to get married all this time, and now you’re upset that it’s going to be simple and not extravagant?”
“I didn’t say I wanted something extravagant,” I argue. “Just… not so cold.”
He studies me in silence, the frost-crusted hedges framing him like stone walls. His posture doesn’t shift, but I can feel his attention sharpen. “Cold is safe. The fewer people involved, the fewer risks you face.”
Safe. Always safe. The word tastes bitter on my tongue, even though I know he’s just trying to protect me.
When I don’t say anything for a while, he speaks again. “What do you expect, Ivy?”
I press my arms tight around myself against the winter air, though it’s not the cold that makes me shiver. “Since I don’t know if I’ll ever get married again, I want a wedding that looks like one. Flowers. Music. Something that doesn’t screambusiness deal.”
He frowns for a second, then nods. “That makes sense. It also helps to sell our marriage to everyone else.”
“That’s kind of cold, isn’t it?” I ask, mirroring his frown.
“You want romance?” His tone dips low, unreadable.
The question stings because I know that’s not in my cards. “No, I just want a wedding that shows respect.”
For the first time, Konstantin breaks eye contact, his gaze roaming over the frosted paths. “I can allow flowers,” he says finally. “Something tasteful, nothing that draws attention outside these walls.”
The knot in my stomach loosens slightly. “And music. Even just one violinist.”
He exhales, fog clouding the air. “One,” he allows after a minute. “I’ll find someone discreet.”
The knot in my stomach loosens. “Thank you.
We fall quiet for a few minutes. His gaze lingers on me in a way that makes it hard to stand still. Finally, he shifts his weight, his boots crunching over frost.
“I understand this isn’t your dream.” His voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard. He looks at me with an open expression, his eyes showing true regret. “None of this is. You didn’t choose me, or this house, or the danger that put you here. But I’ll do what I can to give you some measure of respect and happiness. I won’t risk your life for the sake of appearances, but I won’t make it feel like a prison sentence either.”
The words strike deep. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, not from the cold but from how much his words affect me. “That means more than you know.
A small silence follows. Then he asks, “What about your mother?” The question looks like it was dragged from him. “If you want, I can see what I can do so that she can attend.”
