The Cursed Kingdom
TWENTY-SEVEN

My ears could detect the music playing from outside, so soft and gentle it felt like it was omitting from a far away dream. The deeper notes had my heart feeling as if it was lodged further into my throat with each sharp clamor, blocking my windpipe and making it hard to breathe, and the higher pitched thrums of the chords that followed were in sync with my body’s nervous shaking.

It was an unusual melody, one I personally wouldn’t have chosen, but after Callie told me that its music sheet was found with Henrik’s mother’s belongings, I couldn’t replace it in my heart to turn it down. It’s not that it wasn’t beautiful or that I didn’t like it. It just sounded more fitting for a waltz than a wedding, the tune very wistful-sounding.

As I listened to the song, I thought about the rogue with the white snout tearing at the elk’s corpse and how the music flowing through my ears would be the closest thing I’d ever get to truly knowing Henrik’s mother. I wondered if she danced, smiled, or cried while listening to it. Or perhaps all three at the same time? No matter what the music had or hadn’t meant to the past queen, I was honored to have a piece of her at her son and I’s wedding, wishing I could say the same about my own mother who only left me with memories that grew fainter by the day.

My eyes swayed away from the stone flooring to trail the length of the emasculate white doors. Above their threshold were two marble sprites at each corner, their hands clasped together in prayer as they looked down on whoever entered. With a pair of feathery wings too large for their bodies, sprites were tiny, invisible beings who supposedly roamed the earth to report back to the gods what they witnessed.

A part of me wondered if there was any watching me now.

I smiled bitterly at the thought.

My hands tightened around the bouquet of flowers, whose smooth stems were tied together and covered by a lace cloth between my sweaty palms, the warm weather doing nothing to help alleviate the symptoms of my nerves. The bouquet was a lovely arrangement of white flowers with leafy vines that were covered in hair-like bristles that tickled my fingers, the vines so long they would’ve dragged on the floor if I lowered my hands just a few more inches.

I spared a glance down at my dress that was much simpler than what Mary, the royal dressmaker, originally planned out for me but was still more extravagant than anything I could have ever imagined. The original drawings she’d brought to our first consultation with puff sleeves and gemstones had made me unintentionally cringe, which ended with Mary being offended and Callie and Ingrid teasing me. Although I’d laughed with them, my heart ached. Tylem and Taylium would’ve done the same thing.

At our next meeting, Mary almost seemed disappointed when I settled for floral-patterned lace along my collarbone that trailed down my arms and also laid on top of the solid white material that made up my skirt and bodice. After seeing her face, I caved and allowed her to make two small silver hair clips that connected my matching veil and my train together that sat right above my ears, almost looking like a crown itself.

I looked behind my shoulder at the two young girls keeping my train from touching the floor. The one on the left gave me a soft smile while the other, who looked a year or two younger, was too shy to look up from the bright white material. Their names were Elodie and Ophelia and they were daughters of two lords from the North who had travelled down for the occasion. They were absolutely adorable but I hadn’t had much time to interact with them other than a polite “Hello” and “Thank you.”

Movement caught my eye as the guard tending the right door suddenly gave a nod to the one on the left, who mimicked his actions with furrowed, serious eyebrows.

“It’s time, Madam,” he said, his rough voice evened out with a soft smile. My breath hitched. My fingers tightened further around my bouquet. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, not truly meaning it. My head felt ten times heavier than normal, as if it was weighed down by my lie. I would never be ready. I couldn’t. Even if I had a thousand years to dwell on it, nothing could prepare me for this moment.

Ever since I agreed to Henrik’s proposal, I knew this day was inevitable and I’d been aware of the date for weeks. But my mind had deceived me into believing it was as far away as the stars, so far that the thought of trying to process everything never occurred to me until then as I stood in front of the temple doors. Now, as I realized I couldn’t ignore my reality anymore, I felt a sense of shock ram itself into my stomach.

This was not a dream.

It was real—I was marrying the Cursed King. I was binding myself to him and his kingdom and there was no escaping from that, not even in death. What had I been thinking? I asked myself and the voice I’d been ignoring suddenly chanted very clearly to me that I hadn’t, taunting me that I should’ve listened to it when I still had the chance.

My weighty head nearly toppled off my neck when the guards proceeded to grab the handles and tug them open, revealing the large crowd inside and the music suddenly wasn’t so gentle anymore. It blasted into my ears, making my eyes go wide as the one hundred eighty-four guests’ gazes turned to me, and I wondered if it was too late for me to run back to the carriage.

With a shaky breath, my legs began moving almost robotically and I entered the temple. I eyed the statues of the gods and goddesses like it was the first time and jumped, gritting my teeth, when the click of the doors closing sounded from behind me.

Between each statue, guards in their uniforms of leather and metal stood facing forward while their hands were clasped respectfully behind their backs. Half of them I recognized from the palace but others I did not, remembering hearing about the lords and ladies bringing their own security from their packs with them.

Upwards, a male in a black suit played the organ on the small platform, his short black hair the only thing visible.

My gaze bounced from one side of pews to the other, all fifty-two lords, their mates, and children standing on both sides, turning to look at me while their noses subtly sniffed the air. I realized my wedding to them must’ve been what Feuerfest was like for me, completely uncharted territory where they didn’t know what to expect. It made me feel less alone. We were all different on ships trying to survive the same sea.

Finally, I looked down the aisle and to the altar, where Callie and Ingrid stood on the left and Jerium and Evander to the right. I couldn’t help but notice the looks Callie and Evander shared, small glares that could only be described as silent sibling banter. Ingrid and Jerium both grinned at me, Ingrid dabbing fallen tears with the handkerchief that I’d seen her stuff into her sleeve while she was helping me get prepared back at the palace.

In the very center stood who I guessed to be the Human priestess that had arrived from her secluded home deep in the mountains the night before. She wore loose formal black robes, a large headpiece with beads that rested on her forehead, and a long silver necklace that had a small, flattened pendant of Zuerstelle at the end. Even from far away, I could tell by her sagging cheeks and hunched over figure that she had to have been at least over seventy years of age. How such a person survived by herself in the mountains I could not know, but it did make me curious to learn.

In front of her was Henrik, who outstood every statue in the room, even Zuerstelle’s. Directly behind him was where Jerium and Evander stood, who had grown more serious the closer I got to the altar, their backs straightening and hands clasping in front of their bodies as the feeling of reality of what was taking place hit them just as hard as it had done to me a few minutes prior.

Henrik was dressed the exact same way as the day I’d first met him, his black jacket with golden embroideries and crown sat on top of his hair. The only thing different about him was that his hands for once were bare, not a single fancy ring adorning his fingers.

Once I met his eyes I couldn’t look away and suddenly I wasn’t walking to the music. I didn’t realize I’d done so until I felt a slight tug on my train, Elodie and Ophelia obviously not expecting my sudden change in tempo. So I slowed down again, mentally apologizing and hoping no one else had noticed.

The rest of my walk was completely agonizing. The aisle was maybe sixty feet but it felt like a lifetime before I finally made it to the altar, my body shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind.

When I finally stood directly next to Henrik, who seemed strange now that my heels took away six inches of our height difference, the girls released my train and Ophelia came up to take my bouquet, whose lace pattern was indented into my palms from my harsh grip. It looked huge in comparison to her and I watched as they went to stand in the front pew to be with their parents who smiled and whispered to them, no doubt telling them how well they had done. It made my heart clench, wishing my own mother could be there to give me words of encouragement.

While I knew weddings were supposed to be happy, it seemed the only thing I could do was think of everything I missed.

Henrik slowly brought his hands up, gripped the bottom of my veil, and lifted it up and over my head, his eyes softening when he saw me. I silently wondered if he liked the way the artist had done my makeup, which was a lot darker than anything I’d ever worn, but I adored how the brown eyeshadow softly faded outwards. She’d even painted sharp wings on the outside corners of my eyes, which I thought was a bit too bold for me, despite me admiring the style many times on Callie.

I blushed as the music came to a sudden stop and everything became much too quiet, my hands subtly playing with the sleeves of my gown as a way to try to calm my nerves.

I swallowed and listened to the thuds and creaks as everyone in the pews sat down. Beyond that, I heard a child’s voice begin to ask a question quite loudly before being sharply shushed by his mother, making a few people chuckle.

“Hi,” I whispered after another beat of silence, my voice slightly cracking as the word slipped out before I could think properly. I cringed internally at myself, wondering why I felt the need to say anything at all.

Henrik smiled, making me relax slightly, and his eyes shined with what I could’ve sworn were the beginning of tears. “Hello.”

The priestess cleared her throat in the deathly silent room, the weak sound seeming to echo off every surface. “I would like to begin by thanking you all for coming to witness these two mates join in marriage, a ceremony blessed by Zuerstelle herself and all the gods who reign in her image,” the priestess began, her frail voice reverberating throughout the temple and into every Human, Lycan, and marble ear alike alike. As I stood next to her, I could make out that she smelled like charcoal and sage, and her cheeks were stained an extremely dark pink color. “Although this may be a strange event for most of you, mating and marriage are the same in that they are both done out of love for another person. So let us today not dwell on what customs or beliefs differ between our species but rather see this day as a celebration of two people coming together in love just as all of us wish to love.”

Love. I looked up at Henrik. Did I love him? My heart skipped a beat as I thought on it and my mark gave a tingling like sensation, giving me my answer but I was too stubborn to accept it yet. Too prideful.

“Does thou Raena Korgari come here in full consent to marry His Majesty?” My eyes widened at the sound of my name, my neck aching from how fast it whipped around towards the priestess. Her dark brown, almost black eyes stared deep into my own, her drawn on eyebrows furrowed in thought.

The thought of her, a Human who had no doubt heard the tales of the Cursed King just as I had, disapproving of me marrying Henrik entered my mind. It made my heart lurch and I cleared my throat, trying to ignore everything except for the male before me.

“I have.” My voice was weak and scratchy, everything a queen shouldn’t sound like. My eyes flickered up at Henrik, searching his face to see if there was any hint of the same thought on his face. But all I saw was him staring at me, still smiling with that content look on his face.

The priestess nodded. “Then let us begin.”

* * *

From behind me, a sniffle sounded out, making the hair on my neck raise in surprise, and it almost pained me to not quell my curiosity and figure out if its owner was either Callie or Ingrid. Both seemed just as probable, but I mentally bet my money on Callie while I watched the young ring bearer walk back to stand beside the older boy, who wore the same formal attire as him.

Henrik held up the small ring pinched between his large fingers, the light reflecting off of it from the window behind Zuerstelle’s statue, which made it look as if the great goddess herself was blessing our joining. “Let this ring be a reminder of my vows made here today of my undying devotion and faith to you and symbolize our everlasting bond,” he proclaimed.

There was no hesitation in his voice or posture, looking as strong and regal as the king who had conquered and lost so much in his life. Just like when he’d spoken his vows, his eyes never left mine as he said every word and I was paralyzed by them, watching as his pupils softly expanded and contracted.

Gently, he took my limp left hand and slid the ring on it until it rested above my engagement ring. The simple gold band was almost too perfect to be true. It made my engagement ring look complete, like they both were always meant to be mine.

Before releasing it, Henrik gave my fingers one final, meaningful squeeze and then let go, my skin instantly missing his warmth.

Even my mark began to prickle again, as if it understood the significance of that day.

The priestess nodded at me encouragingly while I felt nearly two hundred pairs of eyes burning the right side of my face.

Almost instinctively, my pointer finger and thumb pressed down harder around the precious item in my care, the large golden band so light and my skin so slippery with sweat that I feared I would drop it.

“I give thee this ring,” the piece of jewelry quivered in my hand, “as a sign of my ever loving commitment to you, to stand beside you no matter what obstacle we may face.”

Henrik lifted his hand so it was right in front of my stomach and I softly grabbed it, biting my lip in concentration as I placed it on his finger, watching it closely, like a cat watching a fly, until it slid all the way down to his knuckle. I let out a breath, relaxing as I realized I hadn’t dropped it and my other hand reached over for his bare one, the entwining of our fingers symbolizing our unity in the eyes of the gods and Human law.

“I now pronounce thee, Raena and King Henrik, as wife and husband, whose union is blessed by the very gods that destined them together.” The priestess lifted her hands, practically mirroring the Zuerstelle statue behind her. “Groom, you may kiss thy—”

I let out a small squeaking noise when I was lifted off the ground with his arms around my waist, holding me to his chest, and Henrik’s lips smashed onto mine. My eyes went wide with shock and a slight hint of annoyance, practically crossed-eyed as they stared in disbelief at his closed lids and dark eyelashes flutter ring against his cheekbones. It was such a Henrik-like thing to do and I could hear laughter ring out, the lords and ladies and some of the children amused by their king’s antics. Soon I gave in and my own girlish giggles vibrated against our joined skin until finally he pulled away, allowing me to breathe.

Henrik caressed my face as the brightest smile that belittled the sun overtook on his own, his pupils darting from my hair, to my lips, and back to my eyes. “Just a few more simple words,” he whispered to me, his lips like feathers against my temple, “and then this’ll all be over.” He placed a short kiss on my forehead before removing his hands from my grasp and stepping away at the same time the priestess walked to her own seat.

It’d been explained to me long before that my coronation was a union between solely me and the Cursed Kingdom, which meant Henrik had to stand off to the side the whole time. But I couldn’t help but feel disappointed as I watched him walk away from me, realizing how much strength he’d given me. I wished he could at least stand beside me, however, I understood and respected that it would be breaking Lycan tradition so I didn’t ask or frown. Instead I simply stood there, alone at the altar, twisting my wedding band around my finger.

Suddenly, the fear I felt before was back as I watched Dario walk—well, more like limp—up the aisle and to the altar. As he walked past me, I could hear his uneven breath and the silent grunt of discomfort he gave as he stood in front of Zuerstelle’s figure and rotated his body to face me, strained dignity in his eyes.

He must’ve been sitting in one of the furthest back pews because I had not noticed him until then. The fact that he was there at all shocked me, having thought Henrik had replaced him long before. I eyed his leg that seemed to be giving him trouble and turned to Henrik, my eyebrows narrowing in a silent question. But all he did was give me a nod and a smile, although I knew he understood perfectly well what I was curious about.

“Brothers and sisters, welcome,” Dario began, his formal suit hanging more unusually on his form than his previous attire. It didn’t even look like it belonged to him, the back of his pants touching the ground while the front bunched at the front of his shoes. “Today we are here to unite this female to our blood so that we may be one and in doing so become stronger. Do you, the congregation and descendants of the first Lycan, Lycus himself, accept this female as your queen, mother of your children, and leader to all of Galycia?”

“We do.”

I jumped at their unified voices and Dario’s cool glare slowly turned to me. I met his eyes, a chilling sensation running down my back.

We held each other’s stares for a couple heartbeats until he broke the contest and turned back to the congregation as if the exchange never happened. No matter what had occurred within the past few weeks, his dislike for me remained as firm as ever.

“Are you willing to take the oath that you will shed your blood for Raena Korgari in the face of any threat or adversary?”

“We are willing.”

As soon as they were done speaking, the older boy I’d seen off to the side earlier, who was perhaps around the age of thirteen, walked up to the Master of Ceremonies and handed him a curved, black knife by the hilt first. It made me anxious to see something so sharp being handled by a person of his age.

Dario lifted the knife into the air and I gulped, watching its unusual black blade and the ruby as large as an egg attached to the end glimmer in the sun. Strange symbols were carved into its leather handle, patterns similar to the ones that covered Henrik’s skin.

“Gods of the realms, let this blade symbolize our people’s undying loyalty.” He handed the boy back the knife just as the younger boy, the one that had helped us with the rings, walked up but this time with a chalice in his small, chubby fingers. Dario grabbed that as well and lifted the golden piece in a similar fashion and I noticed there were symbols around its brim also. It made me wonder what Henrik’s tattoos meant, having never considered the swirling designs could’ve been anything deeper than how they appeared. “And let this chalice represent our people’s unwavering unity.”

The boy bowed his head after the chalice was handed back to him, taking a step back to stand directly beside the boy with the knife, his wide eyes and pale face giving away his uneasiness.

The lords in the front pews stood, their mates and children remaining seated and only moving to let them pass. I watched them with curious gazes as they came near me, their heads held high and posture as immaculate as always. I began to think it was impossible for Lycans to slouch. Even in his sleep, Henrik always held himself with dignity.

The first lord to approach the altar was very familiar, me remembering his gentle smile as he walked out of Henrik’s office with the others. I watched his kind, round face closely as he grabbed the knife without hesitation and ran its blade over the center of his right palm. The gesture was so smooth and quick. I winced, watching the skin split open, and watched as he lifted it over the chalice and muttered quickly, “I shed this blood in loyalty for my queen, for now and eternity.” Three large drops of crimson blood fell to the bottom of the chalice before he pulled out a handkerchief from his chest pocket and sauntered away while applying pressure to his wound, acting as if nothing had happened at all.

Row by row, all fifty-two males did the same like it was clockwork and slowly, one sliced open palm at a time, the chalice began to fill with blood. The sight was sickening and I couldn’t help but think back to my friends, their spilled blood being the last memory I had of them.

My heart ached and my eyes burned as I thought of them, wishing with my whole being that they could be there beside me. A part of me knew they would’ve warmed up to the Cursed Kingdom with time just as I had. The twins would’ve adored Evander and Jerium and Oriana would’ve begged Ingrid to teach her every sewing pattern she knew while listening giddily to Callie’s gossip. If they would’ve been saved, I knew we could’ve had a life together as a large family and it pained me to know that they never were even given the chance when they deserved it more than me.

As the final lord sat back his seat, Dario took the bloodied knife, making me gulp as the red liquid glistened in the sun, and cleaned it with his own handkerchief before passing it back to the boy. Afterwards, he grasped the chalice from the other’s grip and gave the duo a dismissive nod. With that, the boys gave one last deep bow towards me before walking off the platform to stand on the side near Henrik, Evander, and Jerium, who looked dreadfully somber while they stared at me, knowing that the worst part of the ceremony was about to take place.

Dario turned to me and it was then I noticed the dark circles under the already large bags under his eyes, faint and practically invisible, but there nonetheless. It reminded me of what Jerium had looked like that day in the library and it was then I knew with a sinking feeling in my stomach that Henrik had done something horrible. I shouldn’t have been surprised and I wasn’t. But, lords, was I disappointed with my husband.

“Are you, Raena Korgari, willing to shed your blood for those who are willing to shed theirs for you?” Dario asked.

My eyes snapped over to Henrik, back to Dario, and finally flickered down to the chalice cupped in his palms. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and replied, “I am willing. Always and forever until the gods call me home.”

“Will you solemnly promise to govern and look after Galycia’s people and all fifty-two of this kingdom’s packs by their respected laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise.” My replies were quick but not rushed, every word ingrained into my skull from practicing them with Callie.

“Will you swear that with your power you will promote justice and peace and judge with mercy where the gods deem it merciful?”

“With the divine assistance from the gods, I swear to do this.”

“Then let this chalice of unity filled with Galycia’s blood shed by loyalty’s blade be consumed by you so that you may become one with our people.”

The image of me dropping the chalice and spilling blood all over the marble floors haunted my thoughts. There was no doubt in my mind that at least half the Lycans in the room could detect my nervousness from smelling the salt of my sweat or hearing the racing beating of my heart. I could barely control my fingers as they gripped the golden chalice, the piece feeling so awfully slippery, and I slowly turned towards the lords and ladies. My own eyes momentarily flickering to a female holding a baby, who seemed just as entranced by me as the rest of the adults.

Even the statues of the gods felt like they were looking at me, watching me, waiting for me to mess up and do something so humiliating that it would cause my ancestors to shriek in their graves.

“With the blessing of thy gods most high,” I said, staring straight back at the doors where I could see sunlight seeping in through their cracks, “I swear to keep and perform thy things which I have promised on this day.”

As soon as the last word left my mouth, every head in the pews bowed, symbolizing the kingdom’s permission, submission, and acceptance for me to be their queen. Even some of the younger children noticed their parents doing this and mirrored them.

Something about seeing these people, who could easily tear me into pieces with just a snap of their jaws, willingly bow to me made my heart swell. For the first time since I’d woken up in Henrik’s bed, I felt like I belonged.

I hesitantly brought the chalice to my lips, but not before taking a large breath so I wouldn’t have to endure its continent’s smell or taste. With one last churn of my stomach, I threw my head back and took it all in one large mouthful, trying to imagine I was back at Oriana’s house giggling as we sipped on her parents’ not-so-secret liquor stash. But the feeling of blood in my mouth was unlike anything I’d experienced before. It was thick and still warm and, although I didn’t dare breathe, which took my ability to taste it away, I could feel the metallic bitterness on the back of my tongue.

My stomach gave another churn and for a moment I thought I would heave it up, which would not only be embarrassing but would soil my ability to be queen. Callie explained to me how their belief is that only a true royal can drink the mixed blood of the lords. If they are unfit to rule or the gods do not bless them, then as a sign of this rejection they will either be unable to swallow or throw it up right afterwards.

There was a legend of a prince thousands of years before Henrik’s reign that burst into flames when the combined bloods touched his lips. How true that was—I didn’t know. But the fact I’d mustered the strength (or insanity) to drink it all and I was still alive meant I had made it further than him.

Everyone’s breaths seemed to hitch as I held the blood in my mouth for quite some time. There was so much of it that it hurt my cheeks from them having to stretch outwards wide to accommodate its volume.

Finally, with all the strength and control over my muscles I could muster, I forced it all down in one swallow, my eyes watering as I felt the pressure of it passing down and into my stomach too slowly for my liking. I let out a shaky breath and cringed at the horrible taste of blood that stained my tongue, swallowing quickly to try to rinse it out somehow.

There was a pause of silence as everyone waited to see if the blood of Galycia rejected me, their yellow eyes widening and bodies tensing. My own body went still, unsure of what my stomach’s response would be.

A minute passed.

And then another.

Finally, when I realized I would not be expelling any blood out of my mouth that day, I stood straight and presented them the empty chalice, turning it over on its side so they could see that there was not a single drop left.

Applause was what followed, starting our slow and then gaining both speed and volume as they realized what had happened. I looked to my left and saw Henrik joining them, a pride gleaming in his eyes that was nothing compared to how I felt.

When Callie first told me that I needed to drink blood in order to complete the coronation ceremony, my first thought was instantly negative and I told her over and over how I could never ingest something so revolting. At that time, I could barely stomach the idea. Now that it was over, I felt a sense of relief and accomplishment and I welcomed their praise, knowing that no matter how gross it was, I’d successfully done something meaningful to an entire species.

I looked back down at the chalice that was so clean it looked like nothing had been in it and the nausea was nothing I couldn’t handle. I wondered if perhaps there was some sort of magic involved after all or if it was just my overwhelming happiness and relief that discounted it. Either way, I couldn’t help but smile as Dario took it, inspected it one last time, and confirmed to everyone that it was in fact empty.

“Your blood has spoken,” Dario announced and the applause grew louder, not noticing the surprised and almost disturbed look on his face. The male had clearly been expecting my Human genes to cause me to be unable to drink the blood and now that I had, the concoction settling in my stomach, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

I saw movement to my left and turned, watching as the older boy returned but this time with a golden crown placed atop the pillow. My eyes widened when I saw it. It was like Henrik’s but smaller and the edges weren’t nearly as sharp.

Dario and the boy exchanged the crown and the chalice, Dario taking the crown delicately between his finger tips while the boy took the chalice by its neck and walked away, simply nodding in my direction instead of bowing.

I instantly tilted my head towards Dario, drowning out the rest of the world as he began speaking again but this time only to me, his queen.

“Let this crown never fail you.” Slowly I could feel the added pressure that ended right above the jewelry of my veil and the gold was cool against my scalp, causing an unwelcome shiver to run down my spine. It was much lighter than what I had expected from such a thick and sturdy looking piece, yet it was still the heaviest thing I’d ever worn. When I looked up, Dario’s Lycan eyes glowed as they met mine. “And be a sign of a true, long, and prosperous reign, if the gods mote it be.”

I turned to the crowd once more, clasping my sweaty hands in front of me and subtly fiddled with my fingers, as Dario exclaimed behind me, “All hail your queen, ordained by the gods and accepted by the blood of you, your ancestors, and all that shall come after. All hail Her Majesty, Queen Raena of Galycia!”

“All hail Queen Raena!” They all stood and their applause was unlike anything I’d ever heard, so wild and joyous that it had me gasping aloud.

Having to endure the feeling of blood against my tongue was forgotten as tears of surprised joy ran down my face. I had to close my eyes and just listen for a moment or else I feared I’d be so overwhelmed that I’d faint. The mere fact that they were so happy that I would be their queen extinguished the doubt that had been consuming me for so long, knowing that if these powerful beings could believe in me, then so could I.

I hand grasped my own and I looked up, my eyes softening when they met Henrik’s beaming face. He instantly leaned down and kissed my lips, reminding me just how much my tongue still reeked of blood. I was the one to pull away, sheepish and my cheeks burning.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it, wife?” He smirked and I crinkled my nose up at him, my hand coming up to steady my crown in fear it’d fall off.

I was about to tell him how wrong he was but before I could, a hand around my wrist twirled me around and into its owner’s embrace. A squeak escaped my lips as a joyous laugh left Callie’s and her arms around my shoulder gave one last squeeze before she pulled back, sniffling. Faint mascara lines were very noticeable on her cheekbones and I didn’t miss the faint smudges of black on the sleeves of her blue dress, which I’d chosen for both her and Ingrid to wear as my bridesmaids.

“It was so beautiful!” she hiccuped and pulled me back into her chest again, nearly bonking our heads together. I laughed. She obviously was not used to me wearing my heels just as much as I wasn’t.

“Callie, let the poor girl breathe.” Ingrid shooed her away with a scolding glare. Her eyes trailed from my face to my crown and I saw her own resolve crumble and suddenly her arms were around me as well, but this time around my waist. In my heels, I now towered at least three inches above her. “So...” she trailed off with a smile. “Do you feel any different, Your Majesty?”

I looked around the room seeing the lords and ladies conversing amongst themselves like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. The young children were becoming restless and I smiled at a girl tugging on her mother’s brilliant green dress, my heart longing to have that one day.

Behind me, Henrik was thanking the priestess for coming and I admired the way he talked to her so kind and respectful, like she was one of his own people. It made me forget everything I’d ever been mad or upset at him for, realizing that despite all his faults, there was truly a good person beneath all the scars and sharp teeth.

“Give the blood some time to settle,” I laughed, trying my best to ignore the undeniable heavy warmth that still remained in my stomach. When an air bubble arose in my throat, I could still taste it too and I nearly gagged.

I opened my mouth to say something else but stopped when I felt a familiar hand gently place itself on the curve of my waist, which was defined by the tight-fitting corset that resided underneath my dress.

“Raena,” Henrik suddenly muttered in my ear, his warm breath tickling the skin there, “we must go.”

I looked over and noticed the lords and ladies turning their heads towards us every once and a while during their conversations. I realized then that they couldn’t leave until we did and suddenly felt horrible for just standing there so thoughtlessly, too focused on talking with my friends to consider everyone else.

It made me want to smack myself on the cheek.

“Right, of course,” I said and turned to my friends quickly, taking Ingrid’s hand in my right one while my left took Callie’s. “See you in a bit, alright?”

They nodded and I could’ve sworn new tears were already brimming in their eyes, causing my own to appear as I let go of their hands to weave my arm through Henrik’s. The second we turned to face the door, the organ began playing again but this time a much more merrier tune that was so fast and upbeat that it sounded like it was meant for a carnival.

Elodie and Ophelia practically ran from their parents to tend my train and I laughed at their behavior, having forgotten how carefree and hilarious children could be. Within seconds, Henrik and I were walking down the aisle, the king beaming proudly while his queen smiled unsurely at the applauding crowd, thanking them and waving giddily at their children.

But when we made it to the last row of pews and I turned my head to my left, my smile immediately dropped when I met the narrowed, unblinking eyes of the priestess, who stood beside the Moon Goddess’s statue.