Page 149 of Blackheart

For a moment, I felt sympathetic for Ansel. This wasn’t something he’d wanted either. Luckily for him, I would require very little, if anything, from our marriage.

“Do you, Lord Ansel Whimcastor of Dreamsoul, vow to bind yourself to Princess Elorengail Steele of Blackheart?”

They’d left my mother and father’s last names out, only claiming my Castivian bastard title. Ansel’s shoulders tensed, but that was the only sign of his hesitation.

“I do,” he said, quiet and sharp.

A sire approached with a silver tasselled pillow, holding on it two rings.

Lord Draven eyed me. “Do you, Princess Elorengail Steele of Blackheart, accept this ring, binding yourself to Lord Ansel Whimcastor?”

The ring was a thin silver band with an embedded light blue stone. It glinted in the soft torchlight.

“I do,” I said faintly.

Lord Draven exhaled, as if a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

With his jaw tight, Ansel picked up the dainty ring. His hand was twice the size of mine. He held me gently, similarly to the way he had all those months ago in the Waywards, when he’d checked my palms for a leak.

I swallowed nervously as he slid the ring onto my finger, tension running through me like lightning.

I did the same for him, quickly placing the silver band on his finger.

Lord Draven cleared his throat. “By the privilege vested in me by King Xavian Steele, I pronounce you Prince Ansel and Princess Elorengail Whimcastor, husband and wife. You may seal your bond with a kiss.”

With my hands clasped together at my navel, I barely lifted my gaze to meet Ansel’s. His sharp eyes were resolved to see the task through.

He glanced away briefly before sliding his hand around my waist, tipping me back and pulling me into a kiss. He smelled like the air just before a storm.

He pulled away, and I looked down at my feet as the entire hall cheered for our matrimony.

An extravagant dinner commenced at Lady Jocelynn and Lord Draven’s home, just for our council and the Whimcastor family. Ansel and I sat next to each other in silence at the head of the long, black table while a quartet played in the corner of the ballroom-sized dining room.

Lady Jocelynn gossiped with Ansel’s mother, a tiny, dark-haired woman named Kyomi, about the happenings of Whimcastor Hold, while Xavian and Avan played a relentless drinking game.

Arthur Pos was pleasant for once, happy I’d gone through with the wedding. He and Lord Draven sat a few seats down, going over supply plans for my trip to Drakington. While they both thought it was a terrible idea, they at least hoped I’d become with child during the time spent with my new husband.

I highly doubted I’d be taking part in any marital activities in the Waywards, unless it was with Riven.

Ansel’s father, Lord Eiren, walked by as others enjoyed their wine and roasted chicken, and placed his hand on Ansel’s shoulder.

“Don’t forget the consummation ceremony after dinner. Eat light.”

Xavian interrupted from his seat. “I don’t think an audience is necessary.”

I blinked. If I tried to escape the ceremony, my future children’s paternity could be questioned. My entire marriage’slegitimacy could be thrown out, or worse, the Whimcastor’s could pull out of their end of the deal. It would be too easy for them to claim our marriage was never legitimate.

“Let them watch,” I said with a sparkling smile. I mustered up every bit of charisma I could as I grabbed my glass and took a healthy sip of wine. “My… handmaidens, and Lady Jocelynn of course, have prepared me for the ceremony,” I lied.

Jocelynn rolled her eyes as Lord Eiren smiled in approval of the “virgin” princess his son had wed. Ansel shook his head, grabbing his fork and taking a bite of roast. Xavian was plainly disgusted, waving us off and returning to his game.

Once Lord Eiren returned to his seat at the other end of the table, and as the festivities continued on, I turned to Ansel.

“I have very low expectations for tonight. All you need to do is?—”

“I’m a grown man,” Ansel said harshly. “I know what to do.”

I held my hands up in defense.