46 | ACT II, SCENE XVIII

P R E V I O U S L Y

"Come," he offered his hand to me, trying to hide the smile on his face as he opened the door, acting as if nothing had happened, and he hadn't been kissing the hell out of me.

HEXHAM PALACE, SKELDERGATE, ALLINGTON.

EDWINA

The doors of Allington's enormous hall slowly swung inwards, and the 'oohs!' and 'aahs!' of the guests gathered bounced off the painted ceiling as everyone admired the bride standing at the threshold, clutching her father's arm.

Celestina Rotavelle had one interesting face.

To an ordinary person, she would be just another goddess with red hair and the green Rotavelle eyes, nearly a combination matching my own appearance.

But that was where the similarities stopped.

Where my red hair glowed like fire when it caught the sunlight, her red hair had undertones of cherry pink, the candles throwing the strands into reliefs of maroon crimson.

Where my green eyes were sometimes blue and sometimes green, swirling like marbles with time, her green eyes were a pure emerald, shining like cut stone glimmering with tears.

Her skin was porcelain white, almost ashen. The shade nearly matched that of Tristan, who was unusually fair. A fine sheen of sweat covered her pale brow, and the tinge of red on her cheeks a bit too red. Her skin had been evened out with layers of powder, yet it could not disguise the desperation in her jaded eyes. They shone with tears, almost like a leaf clinging to the last of its chlorophyll. She gave off the appearance of a young woman trying her best to not cry, holding herself upright but on the verge of tears.

In that moment, I almost felt sorry for Celestina Rotavelle.

Her father, Rayden Rotavelle, placed a hand on her back and pushed her forward slightly. She sighed and stepped forward delicately, daintily, trying to prolong the steps to the altar but knowing she had no choice but to walk.

They'd dressed her in white silk, seemingly made of wisps of air that hugged her curves. Her cherry red hair was worked into a fishtail braid down her back, a lush, lush red. A delicate circlet adorned her head and the diamonds in it sparkled when she moved.

Seeing his sister, Favian appreciatively whistled, pressing a kiss to her rouged cheek. She squeezed out a small smile in return as they all reached the altar where Llewellyn stood in dark blue, sad and morose, waiting for his new bride.

I could close my eyes and imagine my own wedding, the way I'd been in white and he'd been in blue, that crown resting high and mighty on his proud head as he stood there waiting to make me his.

Crooked grins, sly hands and one dangerous voice. Tristan Valmont.

"What are you doing?" he murmured in my ear, causing me to suddenly open my eyes as we frowned at each other.

"Worshipping the devil, Valmont," I rolled my eyes as a matter of fact.

"Seems a bit conceited to worship yourself... but fine. You do you."

I stifled my sarcastic laughter as he bit back a smirk, both of us shaking silently in the huge crowd, our private joke causing curiosity to the onlookers. Our sly grins were hidden in the shadows, but we both knew, we both saw each other.

'Valmont, I see you everyday and wonder what personality you'll pull out of your bag. The answer's always the same though. Sarcastic devil.'

'Your sarcastic devil, woman,' he huskily drawled in a silk whisper that reverberated in my head.

'Mine alone,' I murmured, and we both grinned at each other, laughter spilling out of our lips, but no one in the crowd seemed to notice... now that the bride had reached the altar. But someone did notice.

Llewellyn.

He saw me, shock coloring his sturdy features. His grey eyes darkened with surprise just like his brother, lips sucking in a sharp breath. Then his gaze traveled to his beloved Nessa clad in a chiton of periwinkle blue.

She hid her face in her hands, shuddering and sobbing, tears running down her palms and onto the floor. I slipped an arm around her shoulder, comforting her, and she gave me a tearful smile. The LeVanes were not among the guests, but Vanessa had still come to see her best friend getting married.

The friend she loved, unfortunately.

"Nessa," I whispered softly to her. "Don't be sad, honey. You'll still get to see Llewellyn everyday. Talk to him everyday. He might be married to someone else, but in your heart you both know he loves you."

"And it's better than you being made to stay here and married to that prick, Favian," Tristan added in a caring voice.

"Yes, thank you," she murmured, tears thrusting into her voice, eyes still on the bridal party which was now standing before Eros, the god of love. He stood there smiling in that creepy way of his.

The bride was given away, the vows were exchanged, and then the rings. Celestina looked very shyly at her new husband, who seemed to have no idea what to do with himself. And then, it was time for the kiss.

They looked at each other for a few good moments, sizing the other up. Innocence was written plainly on her morose face. Llewellyn looked at her and gulped, eyes darting back to Vanessa. Stiffly, resolutely, he made himself half heatedly put his hands around his new wife's slim waist. She leaned lightly into him, clutching him for support.

Slowly, their lips met.

There was nothing romantic about the way Llewellyn kissed Celestina Valmont Rotavelle.

There was nothing romantic, nothing feeling or emotional in the way their lips collided, how desperate they both seemed it to end. Hands at their sides, as if made of wood, they held their own for maybe half a minute. Then the newly weds broke apart.

It was prim and polite and proper, the way strangers kissed each other when they hardly knew who they were. It was expected, obviously, because it was only meant to be an officiation, it was not meant to be a show for the masses. It was the way Eric had kissed Amphitrite at his wedding, the way Aidon had kissed Irina at his.

It was nothing like the way Tristan kissed me. When we collided, there was only searing emotion and burning passion. Nothing else. The Lord of the sky cared nought for what others thought, neither did I.

We were different from the rest, I and this immortal man who grabbed me by the hair and drove the living daylights out of me.

• • • • •

Dinner was over. Everyone was going up to congratulate the newlyweds. Llewellyn was deliberately avoiding Vanessa's eye, she had balled her fists up, downing cocktail after cocktail to drown her misery.

And Celestina; if she looked scared while coming in, now she looked positively terrified. She was the goddess and deity of spring and flowers, but her petite exterior seemed too fragile. Her eyes searched the crowd, nervous and uncertain, trying to look at anything but her husband. Carnations blossomed out of her fingertips as she tried to keep herself busy.

Emerick climbed up the platform, dragging Justaline, who was pleasantly tipsy. He was booming something about having the Lion in his family. Celinette was trying to make conversation with her new daughter in law. Apollo, that murderer, stood to the side, watching darkly. The aura surrounding him had reduced to half his normal glow and I wondered what could be the reason.

"Congratulations," I said firmly with a beam, patting Llewellyn's shoulder as he bounced on the tips of his toes. You came! he mouthed and I nodded warmly, turning to my new sister in law.

"Congratulations, Celestina, and welcome to the family."

"Thank you, Queen Regnant," she mumbled quietly in a soft lilt. Her voice sounded polished, a highborn soprano matching the beauty of the roses she had been blooming everywhere.

I elbowed Tristan who was standing beside me, glaring at her with a masked expression on his face, the only emotion being the frown settled between his dark eyebrows.

'Valmont! Stop being rude and congratulate them!' I mentally chided him.

"Of course, forgive me," he said dryly, replacing the look with an uninterested expression.

After a moment's pause, Celestina nervously held out her hand for him.

His back stiffened slightly, and he bent his head to kiss her knuckles as she looked on shyly, her cheeks turning even redder.

"Congratulations, Lady Rotavelle," Tristan said, just a tinge of acid in his tone. "I hope my brother makes you happy. Llewellyn," he nodded at his brother, "you are indeed a very lucky man."

"Thank you, brother," he muttered.

"Take care of my daughter, will you?" Therese, Celestina's mother, interrupted us. She was goddess of dusk, slim and willowy, with eyes the color of young ferns.

"Of course," I replied, for Tristan seemed entirely useless in this conversation. He seemed to have gone rigid, carved out of stone.

"I suppose my girl can come to you if she has any problems of sorts, right, your Grace?" Rayden asked with a simper. "After all, you are married to the King of Stormholt. Celestina hoped you might help make the transition easier for her, seeing that you too stay right at Hartington Castle," he drawled, dragging his eyes down my neck.

Insinuation.

"I am married to the King of Endollon," I corrected, trying to keep my temper from rising. "And I have my... duties at Dracnesse-" at this point, Tristan's hold on my wrist tightened, "-but I do believe I can make some time for my new sister in law," I told him directly.

His smile tipped higher.

"Of course. I imagine your duties keep you quite... busy. Being a Queen and all..."

"I think we're holding up the others," Tristan quietly said, looking behind to see Vanessa in line, scowling as Favian said something to her.

"Ah, no worries, your Graces, no one begrudges you. You are the Triarchy, after all," Rayden said smoothly.

• • • • •

"And now it's time for the first dance!" Eros boomed happily, and leaned back in my chair, watching the proceedings. I hadn't had a single glass of wine, and was very proud of myself, seeing how clear my head was. But I yearned to pick up the glass and just bring it to my lips, which were still buzzing from the heated encounter in the foyer.

The hall cleared down the middle, people parted their way through for the new couple. Llewellyn led Celestina, marching her to the middle, poised. His expression was wiped clean, just the way his elder brother did at times. Celestina looked plain tired, there were impossible dark circles under her sad green eyes.

The band was being set up at the far corner of the hall. A young woman in a slinky black dress wrapped herself around the mike, ready to croon while others behind her set up flutes, drums, pianos and guitars.

The music began to play the opening notes of an old classical song which had been composed by Cymbeline centuries ago.

Llewellyn tentatively put a hand on his new wife's waist, and she held herself to his chest, wrapping her body around his, as the woman crooned further and they began to sway slightly.

He was clearly a good dancer, but Celestina's style was different, and they both pulled in opposite directions. Someone in the crowd chuckled. Then she literally stepped on his feet by mistake and Llewellyn winced. The music was picking up pace now.

Others began to slide onto the floor as well. A graceful woman and a man who left finger marks on her arm. Then Emerick and Justaline. Rayden with Celinette, who looked slightly disgusted in her silver dress. Apollo, holding Therese at an arm's length, scowling. Others as well, men and women, laughing, talking.

Taking a break from his brooding, Tristan sprung up with a smug smile, eagerly holding out his hand for me.

"Dance with me, wife."

"No," I hissed through my teeth.

"Why? We never danced at our wedding," he rustled his other hand casually through his hair in confusion.

"That was too demanding, Valmont. Ask me nicely," I said sweetly and his eyes glinted with the challenge I posed, as he licked his lips.

"Is it now..." Tristan breathed, pausing a moment. He lowered himself to my ear and I shuddered lightly as his lips brushed my skin. "Will you please dance with me, baby sister?"

"That was too shallow. Try again, mister."

"Ah." Tristan pulled me up, his breath tickling my ear and I felt his stubborn nose touch my earlobe, making me let out a soft sigh. "I want to dance. Will you like to do the honor of accompanying me, woman?"

"No, Valmont, I won't like to."

His eyes gleamed with silver. "You won't like to, is it?"

"I'd love to," I corrected, chuckling softly. He beamed proudly to himself, letting out a chuckle and led me to the floor.

An inquiring look flitted across his face as his hand paused near my waist for a second. I nodded and his hand slipped around me, I put mine on his shoulder, and our free hands met. The music was changing now, becoming upbeat, perfect for us.

Tristan Valmont was an excellent dancer.

Firm but gentle, his steps matched mine, striding through the hall like flowing water. He twirled me around, and my skirt flared like a calla lily. I suddenly giggled delightedly, gasping and covering my mouth. He made me feel like I was young again, not burdened with the responsibilities of an entire country on my back.

We laughed again as I flared out the ironed folds of my gown. It had long sleeves which dropped to the ground, and he had a hard time keeping the smile off his face as our fingers touched and my sleeves rubbed against his silk shirt. I spun around again, falling into his arms, keeping in pace with the music. I felt free, like a bird.

People were grinning openly now, many had backed away from us and our intended dancing as Tristan and I occupied more and more of the floor, lost in our world.

Suddenly, Tristan wrapped both his hands around my waist and swept me off my feet, literally, and I let out a shriek as the floor disappeared from under my heels.

"Valmont!" I gasped, "put me down this instant!"

"Shut up," he teased playfully, "I know you like it when your skirt spins around."

"I don't give a damn about my skirt," I muttered as he spun me around once again, twirling in circles and finally set me down on my feet, almost breathless because we both were laughing so hard.

"You give so many damns, they're visible from space," he smoothly took my hand in his as we continued dancing, and I could literally not help but let out a peal of laughter again. Someone whistled, others cheered, but I was too busy to notice. I liked this song, I liked this man. I liked this dance. I liked the way we moved together.

"There is one thing I give a damn about," I murmured silkily in his ear, placing a hand on the lapel of his dark blue blazer.

"Which is?" he teased.

"Call me baby sister again and I'll strangle you in your sleep, you devil."

• • • • •

"Wine, your Grace?"

I gulped. The event was nearly over, surely it wouldn't hurt? Just ​one​ glass I'd permit myself.

One.

I graciously accepted a flute of champagne from the man, inhaling the sweet scent of alcohol and leaning against one of the walls. I'd never classified myself as an addict, but I would have gladly exchanged my heart for a liver so that I could drink more and care less. My hand raised the glass of sweet, heady liquid to my lips, which were burning from long withdrawal.

I almost tilted it down my throat when a hand knocked the glass away.

"It's a trap!" Halette shrieked as glass shattered and champagne spilled over the tiles in the hall which had fallen dead silent. "They're trying to poison you!" she cried.

• • • • •

She did seem suspicious, no? Well, Halette Rotavelle has a backstory... Anyways, one thing is for sure: the next chapter is gonna be all rock n roll :D