The next week goes by faster than I had ever expected. I was hoping the king would let me take my time and accommodate to what is to happen, but apparently his allies were in transit for my execution and have now received word there will be a wedding instead. They seem to have no issue spending a few extra days waiting for a far happier occasion.

We have been moved from the Tower to the south apartments, and what a change that has been. These rooms are lovely and decorated for a reinforced castle, and there is plenty of light from the fireplace that I swear is as large as my old bedroom in Eldis' cabin. The four poster bed behind us is enormous, with the softest sheets I have ever slept on, even when I lived here as a princess. Those years were long ago, though, and I have trouble remembering back to that time.

"Stop moving or your braid will be crooked, my lady." A tall redhead snaps as she stands behind me and braids my hair. It is a long fishtail braid, somehow taming my generous waves, and in the mirror of my vanity I can see that I still have a halo of brown hair about my head. "Are you sure you do not want any rouge or powders? Your court is full of ladies who practically cake themselves in make up, I would not have you feel out of place."

I manage a smile that does not quite reach my eyes. The woman, Kwenthrith Thanet, has been assigned as my lady's maid. She is barely three years my senior, and I daresay the prettiest woman in the world. She stands in subdued colors with her red locks pulled back behind a coif save for a few curls hanging by her ears and neck. She has been fretting over me since I arrived in the apartments; worrying over making sure the seamstress has my measurements, and the cloth for my dress is perfect. I swear, she is worse than the dungeon master.

"You should put on rouge. Put it right on your mouth so when he kisses you it turns his lips red, too."

Kwenthrith and I turn towards my housemaid. There sits a very angry Gisela, her dark hair also pulled back and covered, wearing a black dress with a feather trim off of her shoulders. Eldislav and Gisela were pardoned and set free the day after I accepted the marriage proposal, but Eldis begged for Gisela to have a job here instead of returning to the forest. She had no marriage prospects in Adrimar due to spending all of her time hunting, so he felt she would be better off here with me. I felt guilty she was given the job as my housemaid, but at least it means we are together. The king's valet, a young blonde man named Sebastian, told me he and Kwen would help her learn the castle, but I hope perhaps I could bestow a land and a title on her... Though, as history would remind me, the reason King Alekso had so much support against my father was because we were not born in to nobility. Perhaps Gisela is better off my maid.

"As good an idea as that is, Gisela, I want my husband to see me when he lifts my veil, not some decorated, mindless doll he thinks he can control. I may be forced to marry him but I will not allow myself to be owned by him. Let him see my angry scowl before he kisses me."

Kwen rolls her eyes and then turns me back to the mirror. "There will be no kiss, don't worry."

"No kiss? Really?" I frown a little and lower my head as she continues the braid. I should feel relieved, shouldn't I? My future husband is an evil king with demonic powers who destroyed my family. If he also hates me enough to not even want to kiss me, that should not disappoint me.

Sensing my discomfort, Kwen roughly stands me up and leads me over to the full length mirror. I get to see my light blue dress, close fitting and flaring at the hips. My sleeves flare at the shoulders and slit down the middle for the warm weather with gold and silver cuffs on my upper arms and wrists. The materials that make up this dress are far more expensive than anything I have owned in years, and yet the way the cuffs are placed look more like slave rings than jewelry meant for decoration. Part of me wonders if that is on purpose. I already know the reason I wear blue rather than the standard gold for a royal bride is because it is the color of my family crest; meant to our union between House Delsor and House Aurelian. A new beginning as far as the people will be concerned.

"And now the final touch before your veil." I watch in my reflection as Kwen makes her way over to Gisela, and the two exchange a knowing look. Gisela slips something in to my lady's hand; twinkles of gold are all I see at first. Then, Kwen returns behind me and slips something around my neck, a gold chain with a pendant sitting at my collarbone.

My eyes widen. It is not a pendant but a locket. I take it in my hands, bringing myself close to the mirror so I can open it up and gaze at the picture inside. My mother, Queen Winifred, stares pleasantly back at me.

"Now now, don't think I wanted to do this." Kwenthrith clasps the necklace on. "Anyone sees what is inside that locket and we are all in trouble. But I was a maid to the Duchess of Aelfort before being sent here, and she was very close with your mother. She told me to give this to you."

My eyes sting with a hint of tears I fail at holding back, and of relief that I refused rouge or powders. "I... why would the Duchess of Aelfort have a locket with my mother's picture in it?"

"As I said, your grace, she and your mother were... close." Suggesting we cut the conversation off, Kwen clears her throat before she adjusts my hair and places the veil on my head.

"Thank you," I whisper as the veil obscures my reflection. I would give anything to hold on to that locket right now, but instead I simply take Kwenthrith's hand, following her with Gisela behind me.

The walk outside to my carriage is slow, and guards at each door straighten up as I pass them. I grip my lady's hand so tightly that I worried her fingers would break off, and yet she did not pull away. Unfortunately, her momentary kindness has only made me less trustful of her. Part of me worries she is trying to get in to my good graces so that when I am queen, she will have access to the King and whatever secrets some master of hers in the shadows might want. This court is not my father's court, not the court I grew up with. We are sheep among wolves.

I feel a warm breeze as we walk outside. I can see shapes and some color through the veil, but it is heavy enough where I still need my ladies to guide me. There is cheering outside the castle walls, while the various servants in the courtyard bow and address me. There are a few whispers of how beautiful I look, and how they hope the veil is not to obscure an ugly face; that Alekso has not seen me and would be displeased. Part of me wishes my face displeases him, that he will look at me and see my father, as my eyes are the same lavender color as his were, and every time he is forced to look at me he can remember what he did.

Gisela lifts the bottom of my dress while I am helped in to the carriage, and as we set off, I decide I can lift my veil and peek outside. My procession to the Church is not a large one, as I have no family or relatives to escort me. Just a retinue of soldiers, the kingsguard, minstrels and dancers. Such fanfare, I think, he must really want the people to like me.

"Long live Queen Edeva!" someone from the crowd shouts. The procession continues down the streets, and more shouting commences. "The Delsors will reign again!" "We love you Princess Eva!"

Among those shouts, however, are darker ones. "Death to the Delsors!" "I hope Alekso chops her head off in the end!" "She is a commoner like her father! She has no place among royals!"

I quickly pull my head back inside the carriage and recover my face. It is as Anselm said; the people are quite torn between Alekso and me. Sheltered in the woods without a need for politics, and too young to be educated in it before while my father was alive, I never paid mind to how one rules a kingdom. As far as I was concerned, my father ruled well, and Alekso killed people. Why would anyone support him?

"We are almost there," Kwenthrith says. I sniffle and it earns a snort from her. "Oh for God's sake don't cry, just think of him as he is - a man."

"He is a king and a diablarist," the tears are coming again. She lifts my veil and takes a handkerchief to dab at my eyes. "Kwen, Gisela... I will be at the mercy of a king with dark magic. The man who wanted me dead for years."

"Don't underestimate your own power," Gisela speaks up. "You may not be a mage, but you heard the cries of the people. If the king really is doing this to end the infighting, he will not hurt you. You can use that, Eva."

Kwen finishes drying my tears right as we arrive at the church. There is far more cheering outside now, but much of it is disingenuous. These are not the commoners who have no fear of losing the king's favor with their opinions. These are Alekso's courtiers; gentry and aristocracy that welcome me as I leave the carriage and enter through the doors. These are members of the clergy who do not care that they are ruled by a diablarist.

As I walk up to the steps of the church, I see him. A tall man with combed black hair, and an iron crown atop his head, stands at the top of the steps while the priest watches me approach. His long red cape obscures his back, with leather pauldrons peeking out until another short gust of wind causes it to billow to one side. I quickly grip the veil so it does not blow off or reveal my face. His hands are folded behind him and I can practically hear the leather tug at his gloved fingertips. Perhaps he is as anxious as I am.

The wind calms down, and the overcast skies lighten slightly so that it is bright out but the sun is not blinding. A perfect day for a wedding, truth be told. I resist the urge to laugh and shake my head at such a silly thought, and with some surprisingly gentle guidance from Kwenthrith, I am led down the path on either side of the crowd of nobles, then up the steps beside the king. Neither one of us looks at each other.

Slowly, the crowd draws quiet, and the priest extends his hands for us to take. I am barely aware of his prayer, muttering a soft "amen" at the same time as the king. Alekso's voice is deep and rich, sending a distracting shiver up my spine. The priest puts my limp hand in the king's and continues his sermon without a second thought. I think he speaks of peace and happy times, with a little bit of love sprinkled in, things one typically says at a wedding no matter the purpose for the union. Without thinking, I squeeze the king's hand, and he turns his head slightly towards me. Frankly I am unsure why I did that; I have no reason to comfort him. I sneak a glance up at him before he can look back to the priest, but the veil obscures much of his features.

I feel him place a ring on my finger, a simple gold band, and then the priest directs us to face one another. Things begin to come in to focus again. I can hear noise now; no blurring of sound or sight. I focus on the lace in front of me within the king's silhouette, and nervously drop my hand to my side as he lets go.

"And with this unity between two houses, between man and woman, I now join you, under the eyes of God, as husband and wife."

The priest takes a step back after he finishes his sermon, and I acutely sense every little movement of the veil as the king lifts it from my face, and then off of my head. It drops to the ground beside me. I muster up every ounce of courage left I have to tilt my eyes up and meet the gaze of my new husband.

I... am taken back by how handsome Alekso is. With his tanned, spotless skin, he does not have the scars his face that I somewhat expected from a warrior king. His hair is clean and shining with a few misplaced yet charming wisps over his ears and forehead. He has a strong and proud face with a straight nose, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, and a slight curve at the corners of his lips. The talk of the town, politically at least, was never about how the king looked; only about his dark power and brutality.

Of course, his eyes, hooded with long lashes, are bright red like rubies and have an eerie, magical glow to him. Red eyes are a telltale sign of a diablarist. Black veins along his hairline peek around his jaw and forehead, and his ears are slightly pointed. Those sinister features remind me of why he is so feared despite how everything else about him seems so pleasant.

I tear my gaze away from him, feeling like a fool for ogling him so long. How silly of me to forget how he despises me enough that he was going to kill me before his advisers convinced him to think of the country. I cannot for one second be fooled by the... oddly spellbound expression on his face. Why does he look so shocked to see me?

A cold hand reaches up and gently grasps my chin, lifting it up. Before I can stare in to his eyes, mine close as he pulls me in to a sudden, unexpected, and soft kiss.

***

For the first time in years; the first time since I completed the Rite, Kazaxon is silent.

The demon has been a constant annoyance in my head since I was eighteen, bothering me and influencing me at the drop of a hat. Even as I waited on the steps of the church in front of my court, getting this stupid wedding over with, Kaz was saying "burn her" in my head over and over, to the point where I worried he would try to take over my body and unleash Hell on everyone around. Yet now he is at a loss for words. I cannot blame him.

I am staring at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

Edeva Delsor; she looks nothing like the portrait now. Sure, there are obvious signs like the beauty mark on her cheek and the unmistakable eyes, but in the portrait she had short, blonde hair that curled at her cheeks. Now her hair has darkened to a deep, golden brown and it is so curly and luxurious it can barely be contained by the braid in which it has been styled. Her lips are full and look so kissable, her sun kissed skin flawless. Even the eyes I expected to hate, purple like her father's, are alluring. They sparkle in the dim light of the cloudy sky, and I grow angry when she turns them from me and hides them under her long lashes.

I received a hint of her beauty as she stood beside me during our vows. I didn't really care to look at her at first and simply watched the priest. She must have sensed some lingering discomfort at the idea of marrying her as she gave my hand a squeeze, and I instinctively looked to her. With her face obscured by the veil, my gaze was drawn to the soft curves of her body, snug under the dress. Life in the woods spent working all day did her quite a bit of good. Had she grown up as a princess I fear she would look pale and sickly like she did in her painting.

Though I told the priest there would be no kiss of peace at the end of the ceremony, it is not just Kaz's silence that drives me to turn Edeva's lovely face back to me. I want to feel how soft those lips are. Before she has a chance to protest I am holding her in place and pushing my lips against hers, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her close to me. She is nice and warm. Her hands reach up to very lightly press against my chest, but otherwise she makes no protests. In fact, I daresay I feel her returning my kiss.

There is cheering from the court behind us, and I am snapped back to attention by the church bells. I usually hate the damned noise they make, but it is not solemn today. The bells sound... happy. I reluctantly let go of Edeva and look down at her, even the shocked expression she wears is lovely.

Do not stop. Why are you stopping?

Oh, there he is. I was beginning to enjoy the peaceful silence. I try to ignore him while I take both of Edeva's hands and lift them, not really thinking as I begin to lightly kiss her fingertips. All she does is stare at me, confused, worried, possibly amused at my change in demeanor. I cannot help myself. I had no idea how badly I wanted a woman until now, and not only do I have one, but I have her.

Kiss her mouth, you fool!

"Shut up," I growl.

"I did not say anything." Edeva mutters. I wince.

"Not you."

The carriage pulls up for us, and I lead her down the steps, mindful of her dress and the flower petals that the courtiers throw our way. At the same time I try to be gentle with Edeva, I feel Kazaxon's influence tugging at me, trying to will me to drag the girl in to the carriage so I can pull her in to my lap and kiss her more. He thinks I need advice? Fuck him. I can feel her gripping my hand for dear life. I will not confuse her with more kissing. She is either still shocked at my initial one, or shocked that she is married now and not being tied to a stake and burned alive.

There is an intense, seething rage at the mere thought of it now. What a fool I was to almost kill her. Anselm deserves a new estate. No, a hundred new estates. The rest of the court scrambles around us, eager to see us off to the great hall before they head there themselves. Our ride will be a tad slower since we should be the last to arrive according to tradition. I help Edeva in to the carriage and then sit across from her, considering flouting all tradition just for more time alone with her.

As the carriage takes off, I manage to take several deep breaths to calm myself before daring to look at her again. Edeva watches me, hands folded in her lap and fiddling with the cloth underneath them, and I want my lips on hers again. I want my lips all over her. Not yet. I have to think with my head and not my cock, as difficult as that might seem. Slowly, she tears her gaze away from mine and turns to look out the window, waving a little at the people who rush alongside us and cheer. Damned peasants. They hardly knew she existed a month ago, now they faun over her like she is the spearhead of some grand revival. Like she will be their queen. How many of them in Adrimar where we found her knew who she was? How many betrayed me to keep her hidden from me, from getting to see her sooner?

Why do you care? Just raize the place to the ground and kill everyone in it.

I shake my head a little and look out the windows as well. Anselm set this whole idea in to motion because he feared Edeva Delsor's public death would anger those opposed to me and throw them in to action. He thought a wedding would quell the fighting. The first few moments I laid eyes on my new bride, I felt excitement and awe. Now, I feel jealousy. Not simple frustration that she is not looking at me in this moment, but something deeper, more primal. The rebels would see Edeva Delsor as their symbol for change. As theirs. But she is not theirs. She is mine. Mine and Kazaxon's.

I told my council I would try to be more lenient, show mercy here or there as the constant battling was slowly depleting the crown's resources, but now I want nothing more than to find every rebel in my country and behead them one by one, all because they might think they can lay claim on Edeva if Anselm's suspicions are true.