Page 124 of The Throne Seeker

His body froze.

His eyes drank in every detail of her, his lips parting in awe like he had just seen an angel walk into the room.

She forgot how to breathe. What in Vallor was she thinking? She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sit here and watch him marry someone else. She was going to be sick. She just knew it.

Rose whirled around, the acid in her stomach threatening to make its way up her throat. She covered her mouth, closing her eyes to keep herself from vomiting. Her eyes pricked but she shoved back the tears, remembering her vow to herself not to. Her hands trembled, the stress finally taking its toll on her body. She tried to take a deep breath, but all it did was make her gasp.

She was about to make a run for it when an unexpected pair of hands grasped her shoulders.

Roman peered down, concern lacing his expression as his hand gently lifted her chin. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he whispered, trying not to make a scene. “Focus.”

She concentrated on his eyes, so close she could see the array of golden specks held within them. The warmth of his crisp breath washed over her face.

“Breathe,” his rich voice commanded, calming her nerves. “Focus on me. Take a deep breath in through your nose… yes, just like that… and exhale slowly through your mouth.”

She kept repeating the simple task, digging her nails into his forearms. Over and over, she breathed, one breath at a time, slowing her heartbeats. The deep breaths let Roman’s musky cedar scent fill her lungs, helping to alleviate her nausea.

She tried to focus on something else—anything else—her gaze fell to his tunic. It matched her dress perfectly. The color went well with his tanned skin glowing like the summer rays streaming in from the window.

“You’re alright,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

She nodded, still too afraid to open her mouth for fear vomit would come up with it.

Roman waited patiently for her panic attack to subside as her death grip on his arms relaxed.

“That’s it,” he said, encouraging her with a firm nod. “Keep breathing just like that.”

Her heartbeats calmed—that was, until he began to lower his hands.

In an instinctual reaction, she latched on to his forearms like a leech, her body taking over. “Don’t let go,” she whispered, hating how pathetic she sounded. How utterly worthless she was in this state. But she couldn’t help it. For some reason, his touch was the only thing that helped.

“I’m not.” His calloused hand slipped into hers. “I won’t.”

He led her to the front of the aisle to take their places. She kept her eyes down, frightened they might run into Tristan’s again, or anyone else’s for that matter.

They made it to the front and up the shallow steps, taking her place beside Harriet, who offered her a weak smile.

She braced for Roman’s hand to let go, expecting him to join the men on the other side, but true to his promise, he remained beside her, keeping his hand firmly in hers.

She thanked the lost city above that Roman’s broad shoulders blocked her from Tristan, even if she could still see him in her periphery, staring at her.

Unconsciously, her hand squeezed Roman’s tighter.

“Eyes on me,” Roman whispered.

As instructed, she looked into his patient eyes—golden flames of warmth waiting for her. A strange energy swelled in her chest, the very same one she’d felt on the balcony the first time earlier that summer. One she was growing more accustomed to when he was around.

The distraction did its job until the music played.

The audience rose to their feet as the grand wooden doors softly opened, revealing Princess Satin in an exquisite floor-length wedding gown. She had opted for the classic Cathan dress, with fabric cascading in every direction, creating a long train behind her. Crafted from soft silk, the skirt gathered around the waist while the strapless design exposed her delicate shoulders. Her hair was elegantly pinned up, holding the laced veil that draped over her face. Through it, Satin was smiling brightly at Tristan.

Rose peeked to see Tristan’s reaction. He watched Satin with a blank stare, making her believe he wasn’t ecstatic to see her, but to her utter agony, he wasn’t looking at her like she was the worst thing in the world either.

The gaze made her feel sick again. She took in another deep breath.

Roman gave her hand a firm squeeze in reassurance as Satin made her way to the front, standing side by side with Tristan.

With that, the ceremony began.