A Beautiful Bride
Wren
Dread knots my stomach. Surprisingly, my heart is silent. It doesn’t protest the way my mind and body does. For once I know what my heart wants. It isn’t Nash Turningten.
I arrived back at the kingdom early this morning. The carriage carried me with dread back to my castle.
I had let them weave my long black hair into ringlets of coiling beauty. They laced up my dress with care. My father pressed a sweet kiss to my cheek, his whisper still scurries through my mind even now as I stand at the end of the aisle opposite of Nash.
I’m proud of you, Wrenley.
The roses hold my attention. The stark petals cascade over my palms like blood on my hands. The knife in my boot stings into my flesh, startling me with its announcing presence. I look up to see all eyes on me. Hundreds of guests in perfectly pressed attire wait restlessly for the Princess of Aveil to wed her betrothed.
I don’t move an inch.
Nash stares impatiently at me. Orange flares of his thin hair twist in the sea breeze. The beautiful blue ocean is a back drop behind him. That damned cursed sea that’s made me realize my life is barely my own. It’s reminded me that I’m deserving of happiness. That not one but several men can love me.
But Nash Turningten isn’t one of them.
My head starts to shake slowly. Nash raises his palms to the heavens as if he’s begging for the voice of reason to strike me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell them. Not Nash. My guests. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.” Murmurs begin dancing through the crowed. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” His brows crease, his lips thinning but he doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry I’m not perfect. None of this is perfect.” The hint of a ludicrous smile touches my lips. “I can’t pretend to love him.” The attention shifts from me to Nash. Angry hues of red tint his face. “I can’t pretend to love him, especially now; not when I know what love feels like.”
The memory of Cormac’s strong arms wrapped around my vulnerable nakedness skims my mind, the way Cohen always looks at me, the way Cason would do anything just to make me happy. Ledian fills my thoughts and I think about the way he was there for me, refusing to let me charge through life on my own. They all hold this intense feeling within me that I can’t explain.
Nash will never hold that warm feeling in me.
“A dinner is being held tonight,” my father says, startling me. He stands from his seat and addresses the crowd. “It was supposed to be in honor of the newlyweds.” He pauses and shoots me an odd look. A look I’ve never seen before. “My daughter is still an honorable princess. We will still rejoice in her honor.” A smile tilts his lips as he looks at me with a mixture of sadness and pride.
He walks down the aisle, his hands sweeping around me as he hugs me to his massive body.
“I’m sorry, Wren. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
The surprise turning through me doesn’t stop my eyes from watering. I nod into his strong chest and wrap my hands around him as well. A familiar, tingling memory of my childhood drifts through me.
I was his little girl before I was always the disappointing Princess of Aveil.
“We’ll figure this out,” he whispers into my hair. “Go get some rest. I’ll take care of all this.”
He releases me and I turn from the prying eyes of our kingdom, from the glaring gaze of Lord Turningten. My white gown drags the dirt, picking up debris with every step I take. I turn the corner of the castle, searching for the side entrance through the garden.
The roses littering the garden are scarce. Winter is pulling at their beauty, stealing away the life from them.
The chill of the cool air doesn’t sting my skin. I feel numb.
I should be ecstatic. Relieved. Happy.
I’m nothing, though.
Hesitantly, I pull the dagger from my boot. It brushes the side of my calf as I bring it up to admire the blade. This is the key to everything, I just know it.
I can feel it in my veins. A burning, tingling feeling of power settles in me as I hold it in my palm. My bouquet of red roses are still held in my other hand. One hand holding power, the other holding beauty. Neither sure of what they’re doing.
“You made a mistake, Princess.”
Nerves tingle through me as my shoulders tense from the sound of his voice. I hide the dagger beneath my flowing bouquet and I hold the flowers with both hands. Finally, I turn to him. Nash leans against the brick wall as he studies me slowly from head to toe.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but you look very beautiful, my bride.”
His twisting words settle uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. I grip the dagger tighter.
“My family isn’t one to screw with.” His eyes flash as they finally settle on my gaze. “My family has a secret, too, Wrenley.” He takes a step closer to me, his boots scuffing against the cold hard ground. “I know what you took from me.”
The dagger burns against my palm.
“How many times does a girl gotta tell you no, Turningfuck?” Cormac’s voice is tinged with a smirk. I look behind me to see him standing among the dying flowers with a sneering smile on his lips.
My mouth parts. I can’t believe he’s here.
At my wedding.
“Leave. And never come back. But I want you to always know,” Cormac walks to me with a look of desire in his eyes as his palm trails hotly over the small of my back, “how happy Wren will be without you.”
“You’ll see me again,” Nash promises.
Cormac doesn’t even glance his way as his lips brush mine for only an instant. I hear Nash’s boots storm angrily off, but still relief doesn’t settle in me.
Cormac wraps me up in a tight embrace as his forehead leans against mine.
“He was right, though,” the warmth of his lips press to mine once more, “you’re fucking beautiful, Princess.”
With a jarring twist of my wrist, he gasps against my mouth. A look of horror fills his wide blue eyes. Hot blood coats my fingers, slipping down the blade of the dagger right from Cormac Ryken’s heart.
The heart he trusted me to keep.
The End.