“Sebastian.” King Hart draws our attention back to him. His mouth creases into a thin smile. “I bless this day and your future marriage to Zara.” He bows, and we see the top of his glossy, silver hair.
Sebastian bows his head and the screen goes black. Silence thrums the hall like a plucked string that’s been strung too tightly.
The friar steps up to the altar, and my heart hammers. I remind myself that I’m not leaving here married. This is just the betrothal, but King Hart’s piercing gray eyes stare at me in my mind’s eye. I feel defeated, as if this is only the beginning of a lifetime imprisonment. I clamp my eyes shut.
When I open them, Sebastian is smiling. “Relax,” he says. “This part is nearly over.”
He thinks I’m merely nervous to be in front of the crowd. Which I am, but there’s so much more. I can’t do this. I can’t commit myself to someone I don’t love. I can’t commit my life to serving and enforcing the laws that my father was punished for breaking. Or condoning “questioning procedures.” I’m seconds away from hyperventilating when Devlan moves closer to us, holding out Sebastian’s commitment gift.
Sebastian takes his gift as Devlan watches me. Again, it’s as if he’s urging me to continue—to go through with it. He steps back, and my vision fills with the line of crimson and black-clad knights stretching across the back of the ceremonial hall. The Force stands at attention, their eyes seeming to bore right though me. There’s no getting through that barricade.
The little boy comes forward. He’s the same height as me in my kneeling position. I take the locket from him. Drops of water sprinkle my hair as the friar blesses us. His murmured chant barely reaches my ears. He pauses, looking out to the crowd. “Should anyone here know of a reason why these two may not be united, let them speak.”
The tightening in my chest forces all the air from my lungs. I’m desperate to seek each pair of eyes in the hall, implore someone to commiserate with me, but I keep my gaze steady on Sebastian.
My heart sinks as the friar continues. “You may exchange your commitment gifts and solidify your engagement.”
My hands shake as I clip the locket to Sebastian’s vest. “With this, I will commit myself to being your wife. Body, mind, and soul.” Inside, I cringe. It’s only words. The vow will never be consummated.
I stare at the floor as I await Sebastian’s gift. He reaches out and slides his fingers along my jawline as he tilts my face up to look at him. His golden eyes shimmer in the candlelight.
“With this,” he says, undoing the clasp of a silver chain. “I will commit myself to being your husband. Body, mind, and soul.” He separates his hands, expanding the chain, then drapes it around my neck. His hands press against my neck as he clasps the necklace, and my skin tingles at the feel of his soft skin on mine.
A heart-shaped silver locket rests against my breastbone. It weighs on my skin, cold and heavy. His hands linger, cupping my neck just below my jawline; his thumbs rest against my cheeks. I hold my breath as I wait for Sebastian’s lips to touch mine.
His gaze traps mine, and a rare flash of concern registers on his face. He draws me to him as he moves forward, closer. The hand facing the crowd shields my lips as he places a kiss next to my mouth, on my cheek.
“I can be patient,” he whispers in my ear. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”
My clenched muscles relax, and my lips release a breath. The crowd cheers, but I barely hear them over the whooshing in my ears.
Sebastian takes my hands and pulls me up beside him as he rises. He doesn’t seem to be too disappointed over the missed opportunity to kiss me. His face is lit with excitement. “Ready for the celebration?”
SEVEN
The slow, earthy music from mandolins and flutes echoes off the stone walls of the great hall. I’m seated upon a dais at the head of the room, at a table laden with every kind of dish imaginable. The smells of vanilla and roasted meat perfume the air. Roast beef, cutlets of chicken, and racks of lamb are presented on massive porcelain serving platters. Silver trays and baked rolls fill the few open areas of the tablecloth.
The high walls are swathed with blue and silver velvet. Iron vines holding lit votives wrap the high pillars. Their small flames twinkle, blanketing the air with jasmine and spice.
Sebastian rests his chin in his hand as he watches the room bounce and sway, the citizens dancing in celebration of his betrothal. He’s not spoken of my outburst in the arcade, and I’m reluctant to press him on the subject. I know Mr. Levine is dead. I don’t need his confirmation. No one could survive that much torture.
And it’s my fault.
I finger my locket, trying to push it over the top of my gown. It keeps slipping under, its chill and weight foreign against my skin. Annoyed, I give up with a huff and pick at the chicken on my plate. The guilt over Mr. Levine’s and my father’s deaths make it impossible to eat.
Sebastian takes a long sip of wine and peeks at me above the rim of his goblet. He sets it down. “Zara. Dance with me.” Amusement laces his voice. “I’ve never had the pleasure with you.”
Of course not. I’ve never been to any of the court’s gatherings or celebrations. “Not now, my lord. I’m weary from the ceremony.”
His smile widens. “Ah. You’re still angry with me for my harsh tone earlier today.” He takes my hand. “Come now. I’ll make it up to you. It’s our night, after all.”
“This is not our night. It’s yours.” It’s true. The Court doesn’t celebrate our engagement. They bask in a drunken stupor over their prince soon becoming a king and continuing their life of extravagance. As the ceremony was open to all of Karm, the celebration is privileged to only the nobles. The ones who benefit from the hard work and mistreatment of the commoners.
Commoners like my father, Mr. Levine, and I used to be. Stationed to work beneath others.
Sebastian grips my hand tighter and pulls me from my chair and thoughts. “Nonsense.” He half-drags me toward the center of the room. “Don’t be intimidated, my love. I’m sure you can keep up.”
My skin recoils from his touch as he wraps me in an embrace. Renewed anger blooms beneath my chest. “I’m sure I can match your sloppy steps, and your dull wit for that matter, as your wine-soaked brain has left you lacking in charms.”
“I’m not drunk…yet.” He laughs, then sobers as he dips his face toward mine, leaning in close. “But I assure you—” his voice is low and husky as he begins to sway us “—if I was attempting to seduce you, you’d not resist me so easily.” His eyes bore into mine, and his sweet, winey breath skims my lips.
I push against his chest, backing him away from me a few inches. “Manners, Sebastian.” I scan the room, looking for curious stares. “Don’t want to cause a scandal in front of your subjects.”
He throws his head back and laughs louder. “You’re my betrothed. And extremely sexy tonight.” He pulls me closer and rocks us back and forth. “I doubt they’d fault me for wanting to be with you.”
The air catches in my throat, trying to choke me, and I cough. He can’t be serious. From the little I know of Sebastian, I’ve found his humor insensitive and crass, but I can’t figure out if he’s joking or insinuating we should be together before we’re wed.
That will not happen, but I suddenly feel caught, like I’m a fish stuck in a net and wriggling for freedom. Except he’s the slippery one, and I can’t grasp the truth in his words.