Chapter 6

Clara had to admit she looked beautiful. Vanity was never her thing, but what woman didn't dream of looking like a princess on her wedding day? Still, she'd prefer looking ugly to getting married to a complete stranger. The royal caravan arrived late last night and Clara was held hostage by a crowd of maids commanded by her mother since early morning. Which meant she didn't even get to see lord Huxley. Given her current situation, the worries about him being an ugly fat old man should be the last thing on her mind but Clara couldn't help but wonder what her husband looked like. And, more importantly, what kind of a man he was.

The memory of a tiny glass vial tried to sneak into Clara's mind but she didn't let it. No, she forbade herself from thinking about that today. Getting through her wedding was going to be hard enough without trying to come up with a plan to poison the king.

Her hand slid over the satin dress, white with green hemlines, the emerald color matching her eyes perfectly. The upper part was so tight Clara could barely breathe but it did bring out her cleavage, making it look way bigger than it would normally be. Wasn't that cheating on her future husband? Her mother rolled her eyes and shushed Clara when she dared to ask. If Sophia was surprised by her daughter's sudden obedience, she didn't let it show, probably assuming that Clara had simply come to terms with the inevitability of the situation and gave up fighting against it.

Clara's wild red mane was the hairdresser's nightmare. After several attempts of subduing the unruly curls, the poor woman just slapped a large hair net over Clara's head, attaching it by what felt like dozens of pins. With a simple pearl tiara, the result was surprisingly pretty.

It was almost time. Clara was standing by a window, watching a gardener pluck weeds from a rose flowerbed. She had barely gotten used to her chambers in the palace, a beautiful suite overlooking the gardens which she shared with her mother. And now she was moving to different ones. She couldn't even hope to return home, to the Redwood family mansion, because that, by birthright, belonged to Sebastian, the eldest of the three siblings. And since lord Huxley was a foreigner and owned no estate in the city, the newlyweds were going to stay in the palace for some time until they found a place of their own. Clara should have probably been grateful that her husband wasn't going to drag her back to Levanta right after they got married.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Her voice was shaking as she answered and when king Hayden entered the room, she tried to mask her nervosity by a deep curtsy. He was different from what she remembered. Handsome, yes, that hasn't changed, but he seemed more relaxed as if a large part of his anger simply evaporated.

He smiled at her, a real, honest smile that brightened his expression even more. "Ready?" Clara nodded, even though she couldn't be less ready. "You look amazing. Huxley is a lucky man."

"Thank you." Her voice was almost a whisper. "You are too kind, my lord." This was the man she was supposed to…? No. She couldn't afford to think about that now.

Did he actually chuckle? "That's gotta be the first time somebody has told me that." He offered her his arm and Clara grabbed it, anxious about actually touching the king. The hallways were empty and oddly quiet as they walked towards the great hall. "Are you nervous?" he asked, probably feeling her body tremble. "It's normal. I was too." A corner of his mouth curled up and Clara had to forcibly stop staring at him. Who was this man and what has he done with the Burning Fury? The large doors before them were closed and they stopped for a moment. "Don't worry. He'll be nice to you."

If only Clara could be so sure of that. Just as she took a deep breath the door opened, revealing a beautifully decorated hall filled with people wearing their best clothes. Most of the Orellian nobility missed the royal wedding since it took place in Levanta and this was the next best occasion to show off, especially since both the king and the new queen were attending the wedding as well.

Clara could see her now, standing next to the low dais in the center of the room, wearing a surprisingly simple gown, brown hair falling over her shoulder in a long, thick braid. If it wasn't for a thin golden circle around her head, Clara would have never guessed that this was the queen. Most women in the hall were wearing much more ornate, luxurious, visibly expensive dresses. Including Clara's mother who was standing beside the queen, looking like a scruffy peacock next to a graceful dove.

When she couldn't avoid it any longer, Clara's eyes slid over the flowers adorning the dais towards her husband. A tiny pebble fell down from her heavy heart. He wasn't old, fat, or ugly. Quite the opposite actually. Older than she was, as expected, lord Huxley looked to be about the king's age, twenty-five, give or take. He was tall and slim, not overly muscular like some of Hayden's warriors who were just walking mountains, but no ample belly was overflowing over the edge of his black breeches either. His dark brown shoulder-length hair was pulled back and tied by a string, yet several strands escaped and were now framing his face. No, he most certainly wasn't ugly.

He watched her with a nervous smile and Clara realized that it wasn't just the first time she was seeing him but it was also the first time he was seeing her. She straightened up and held her head high, trying to put a polite smile on her face. She probably failed on that part, smiles simply weren't in store for her in the past days but, hopefully, she at least didn't look like it was her funeral. There was no need to antagonize her husband even more, he already had plenty of reasons to hate her. He didn't seem to be hating her now though. No, besides being nervous, he looked almost pleased by what he saw and his brown eyes showed kindness.

As they walked towards the center of the hall, Clara found herself clutching Hayden's arm tighter, terrified of stumbling and embarrassing herself in front of her husband and the whole palace. The king placed his other hand on her small one, gently patting it, probably trying to calm her down. "And if he isn't nice to you," he tilted his head towards Clara and whispered conspiratorially, "just let me know. I'll be happy to have him whipped." Her eyes darted to the king in surprise to see him smirking but Clara felt it wasn't entirely a joke. Hayden didn't seem to like her husband very much and the girl had to wonder why.

Hayden carefully helped her up the two small steps and suddenly Clara was standing in front of the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. Lord Huxley gave her a deep bow and a warm smile. "Lady Redwood." The bow he gave the king was barely more than a firm nod. "Your Majesty." He addressed her first, even though by the protocol that honor should probably belong to the king. A little rebellion against his new ruler or was he trying to impress Clara?

She made a perfect curtsy. "Lord Huxley." Gods, this was so weird. And why the hell was she blushing?

The king took her hand and glared at the man in front of her. "Take good care of her, Huxley," he growled, anger flashing through his expression for a brief moment. Yes, that was the king Clara remembered.

"I very much intend to, my lord." Clara's future husband didn't seem moved by the king's threats, looking straight into his eyes. His answer was polite and respectful but he stood straight, didn't cower in fear or grovel like men often did around Hayden.

There might have been a quiet snort coming from the king's mouth but he took Clara's hand and placed it into Huxley's extended one. Her husband's skin was warm but not sweaty and Clara was surprised that the touch wasn't entirely unpleasant. She gave him an apologetic smile, knowing her own hand must be ice cold.

The priest talked but Clara barely listened, stealing quick glances at the man beside her. Despite the customs he didn't let go of her hand, his thumb even gently stroking the back of it. Clara gave him a startled look and he stopped immediately, looking almost ashamed. It was probably normal he wanted to touch her, after all, they were getting married and quite soon he was going to be touching her a lot more. Everywhere. Clara shuddered and chased the thought out of her head. Another thing she couldn't deal with right now. No, she had to get through the day one moment at a time.

She repeated the vows mindlessly, it all felt so strangely unreal. How could she swear to love this man? She just met him, hasn't even talked to him yet and now she will be condemned by the gods to eternal damnation if she didn't love him? The only kind of love she knew was the one from romantic tales where the knight saves a maiden from a terrible monster and she immediately falls in love with him. There were no monsters here and her husband certainly didn't look like a knight. No, the man next to her wasn't a warrior. With embarrassment, Clara realized her fingers were more calloused than his even though she hasn't touched a bowstring in over two weeks.

Huxley's words sounded way more honest than hers but she noticed his tone changed slightly when it came to promising to love Clara. Most likely, he was thinking about the same thing. Or maybe he felt ridiculous making an oath to love his enemy. That's what she was to him, Clara had no doubts about that. There was a war between their countries and his lost, that was the only reason he was forced to marry her. Was she a punishment for something he did to the king? It made sense, they seemed to loathe each other and if Huxley was such an important lord in Levanta, Hayden probably couldn't have him simply executed unless he wanted his new subjects to rebel. So he at least humiliated him by making him marry Clara. That was certainly not going to make her life easier.

They were married. The young girl Clara Redwood disappeared, replaced by Lady Huxley, a woman Clara barely even recognized. Facing each other, lord Huxley's hand gently touched her cheek, making her look up at him. There was a kind and nervous smile on his lips. "May I?" he whispered as he leaned closer. Was he really asking for her permission to kiss her? Clara nodded. It was not like she could actually refuse.

His hand forced her head to tilt back and his lips touched hers. They were warm and soft and tasted like apples for some reason. The kiss was brief, innocent, and Clara almost found herself wishing it would last longer. Upon opening her eyes (when did she even close them?) she saw her husband's happy face, knowing she was smiling as well, a first genuine smile in weeks. Alright, this wasn't as horrible as she feared. For now at least.