Page 6 of Bloody Black

T he matrimonial gown fans around me like a sapphire sea, silk and satin and lace. Celestia’s throne room stretches before me, its domed ceiling newly painted with gold-leafed constellations, each star flickering in the candlelight of the twenty sparkling chandeliers.

Hundreds of guests spill between white-draped tables, their laughter ricocheting off marble pillars veined in blue. Lilies and roses crown every table, pile in every corner, and the air smells of honeyed wine and flowers.

In truth? The entire room could have smelled of sweat and garbage, and I still would have been happy.

I’ve done it–I’ve married him. I’ve gotten my way; mostly, because no one could dissuade me.

Not my father, not Ben, not my aunts. Not even my entire army, lined up and complaining, could have made a dent.

Once my heart decided upon the soldier from Rivelle, I dug my heels in obstinately and refused to even consider anyone else.

It only took two months of arguing before my father threw up his hands and honored the terms of the tournament.

My half-sister, Genevieve, looks up at me with solemn gray eyes, golden hair tucked behind her ears. “Did you have cake?” she asks politely.

“Half of a piece.” I pat my belly. “Which I’m sure the court will use as evidence that I’m with child, since they’re always watching my weight.”

The tiniest of smiles ghosts across her lips. She’s only just turned fourteen. A baby, really. But Genevieve, my father’s bastard, is already everything I am not. Steady. Kind. Studious. She’s a little lady, through and through. Wise for her years.

On impulse, I press my lips to her forehead. A bastard she might be, but I like her. She and William have already bonded over their mutual love of horses.

“Now, now, don’t touch,” chastises Trista, her gray-haired governess. “Your hands will dirty her wedding gown!”

“Tomorrow,” I squeeze Genevieve, not caring about the gown. “I’ll come and get you. Comet will be wondering where we are, otherwise.”

“Alright.” She gives me a hopeful yet pleading expression, then allows herself to be drawn away. In the entire castle, she doesn’t have a single friend but me.

A royal has allies and enemies, never friends. Another uplifting life lesson from Ben.

In the background, a droll tune plays, and couples and singles slow-dance along the shining marble room, gowns rustling, men bowing and turning their ladies across the floor as if they are spelled.

“More wine?” asks a gravelly voice at my elbow.

With a radiant smile, I accept. Even though I don’t normally drink, tonight I’m celebrating. I’ve won. I’ve married the man of my choice. I was not traded away, bartered to the highest bidder; I would never endure a man thirty years my senior, soft and inept;

No.

I worked hard, persevered, ignored my naysayers, and won. My father cursed Ben and me both, but law was law, and I was free.

Well. Freely married.

My eyes settle on the golden-haired soldier across the room. Strapping, tall, blue-eyed, and mine. Bound before gods and men, sealed with a sapphire royal crest. William had been named a prince directly after our wedding, with a silver crown to match my own.

Damned if all the new finery didn’t suit him.

My place at the royal table sat on a slightly raised dais at the head of the room, draped in sapphire velvet and flanked by silver candelabras.

From this vantage, I can see the great double staircase on the far wall, where guests descended two at a time like water down a forked stream.

The room looks beautiful. Allegedly, dozens of small details had gone wrong.

The bouquets were supposed to include forget-me-nots, in honor of my deceased mother, but the royal florist had forgotten.

The wine should have been apple-flavored.

Our wedding banns had been sent late, which of course everyone noticed and assumed that it all would be called off.

And, unfortunately, from I can also see the tittering ladies, huddled together like conspirators. Staring at my groom.

Anne’s Grand Mistake. That’s how they refer to him.

They can all go to hell. Bunch of busybody magpies.When I am queen, I’ll banish them. Possibly to an island full of dragons.

William laughed. Took it all in stride. He didn’t seem to mind their distrust, their criticism, their stiffness.

He wasn’t offended when they claimed he’d bedded me, seduced me.

Which, I may not have minded if any of it were true.

Unfortunately, William was nothing but a gentleman.

Devoted, yet firmly traditional. Tonight I’d go to our wedding chamber as a virgin, woefully untried.

I watch him like a hawk, particularly when other women approach him. He’s Prince William now, which only means that the maids, servants, and other ladies at court will try to ensnare him. To lure him away from me, have his bastards.

He doesn’t seem to notice any of them. Instead, he speaks to his fellow soldiers, clapping my bodyguard Roger on the shoulder.

My guards are sprinkled around the room, eating and drinking, some at ease and some not.

These are not to be confused with my father’s royal guard, or the general guard, or the castle guard, or even the keep guard.

A necessary precaution, since lately there’d been much unrest, strange events, and attempts at sabotage and theft.

Not that I needed their protection–most of them I’d beaten at swords anyway.

“Ah,” murmurs a low, husky voice into the shell of my ear. “The bride glows brighter than the moon,” Ben slides into the chair next to me. “Surrounded by lesser stars.”

I relax with a faint smile, all the starch leaving my posture.

“You don’t care to mingle?” Ben asks.

“I have more care to be alone with my husband,” I gripe.

Ben frowns. “You should pay attention to your guests.”

I pout. “Why bother? They’re all dancing or drunk, gorging themselves on cake.”

He gives a half-hearted shrug and scans the room around us. “Everyone’s guard is down. Including them.” He jerks his chin toward the royal sentries, half of whom seem to be missing.

“Everyone deserves a night of fun. Nothing is going to happen.”

Except my deflowering. I snicker to myself, then sober when Ben narrows his eyes.

“What?” I ask innocently.

Ben sips from a half-full goblet as he considers something across the room.

As casually as possible, I glance over my shoulder and am utterly unsurprised to see Alfr, a Fae maid from Sinder. “Gods’ bones, Ben. Ask her to dance. You’ve snuck around long enough.”

“I will.” He doesn’t move.

“Ben— Ben, ” I repeat, making sure he meets my glare. “Stop wasting your years. Keep her or let her go, but put the woman out of her misery.”

He finishes the wine and sets the goblet down. “You know how people talk.”

“People are stupid. Also, no one is judging you but you.” I put my hand on his. “If the court doesn’t like it, then they can leave.”

“Who will manage you when I’m gone?”

I bite back a smile. “Hopefully, my handsome husband. Now stop stalling and go. Seize your happiness.”

Eventually, Ben strolls away. With any luck, he and Alfr will finally work out their feelings.

Ah, love. How sweet it is–

A piece of parchment flutters down to the table as I pick up my napkin.

The parchment crackles like brittle bones as I unfold it, the inked warning written in small, neat font.

You are in danger. Meet me outside.

Careful not to react, my eyes lift innocently from the message to the gaggle of guests. Not far off, my father is in deep conversation with an elderly noble. Dancers swirl to the music, their outfits vivid red, blue, and silver. Servants carry trays to and fro, fetching used dishes from tables.

Nothing dangerous. Nothing exceptional.

Whoever put that note in my napkin knew that this was my seat. Specifically meant for it to be seen by only me. I’ve been here for a while, and it wasn’t here when the evening began. I would have noticed during dinner because I’ve dabbed at my mouth multiple times.

Thus, someone had snuck in right under my nose… Someone placed the note while I danced, or while I chatted with my father.

A shadow flickers at the edge of my sight—a shape slipping through the crowd.

The back of someone ducking out the balcony door.

No one else notices, and there is no real reason they should.

The room is hot and crowded, full of people coming and going.

It’s silly to single out one dark-haired male as a threat. My own female paranoia, maybe .

Yet dread and foreboding fill me, thinking of the words on the parchment. I can’t leave. It’s my own wedding. Half my royal guard is drunk, the other half missing entirely. Leaving the safety of the castle, leaving my guards—that would be insanity.

But, what if it were a real warning?

Gods, I have to find William. I glance around helplessly. Our ballroom holds nearly five hundred guests. As such, my groom is nowhere to be found. As quickly as I dare, I rise and make my way across the room. When I pass a serving tray, I steal a knife, hiding it inside my royal blue sleeve.

My aunt, Cressida, seizes my arm before I reach the glass doors. “Congratulations, my dear! Pity my sister couldn’t witness this spectacle!”

“Isn’t it?” I reply dutifully, offering my cheek for a cold-lipped kiss.

“I’m sure she’s here in spirit,” Cressida adds. “You’re a vision in that dress.”

A forced, pleasant smile settles onto my face. “Thank you so much for being here. It means the world to us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for someone.”

Ignoring her look of reproach, I step around her and shove my way toward the arched doors and out into the night.

The ballroom’s warmth vanishes the instant I step outside. The air is bitterly cold, frost gathering immediately on my hair. Below, the ocean roars, pounding incessantly on the cliffs. Above, the sky is jet black and sprinkled with icy white stars.