The Ceremony

The moments in the bridal chamber passed like fleeting shadows. As her name was called, attendants carefully arranged the train of her gown.

'You must not falter.'

The Count's stern words echoed in her mind, the weight of her jewelry feeling unusually burdensome under the scrutiny of the assembled guests.

She moved forward mechanically, the priest's voice blending with the vibrant decorations that surrounded her.

With a veil obscuring her face, she reached the end of the aisle—the sacred path of the bride.

"Your hand."

A deep voice resonated in her ears, and she lifted her gaze to meet the eyes of the man who would soon be her husband, Duke Everwyn.

She placed her hand in his as if in a trance, and the ceremony commenced. In the dazzling hall, Seraphina's gaze was fixated solely on him. Sensing her scrutiny, the Duke chuckled softly, "You seem to have many questions…"

The priest had yet to conclude his words, but the Duke spoke casually. Though only she heard his voice, her composure remained unshaken.

"…but here is not the place for answers."

"When will you tell me, then?" she asked quietly.

He lightly touched her hand, his fingers lingering over her ring finger, a tender gesture from afar.

"I will inform you once this ceremony concludes."

"Hmm."

The ceremony proceeded, each exchanging vows and rings.

"You may now kiss the bride"

At the priest's command, the Duke lifted Seraphina's veil. Underneath, her face radiated innocence and calm.

Though their previous encounters had been more intimate, Seraphina blushed faintly. Nervousness gripped her, shoulders trembling before the assembled guests.

"Do not be nervous," he whispered just before his lips touched hers.

"As you said, I am the chosen one of our families."

Huh? Seraphina's eyes widened in bewilderment at his words, shifting to his lips. It wasn't a deep or lingering kiss, constrained by the public setting, yet it lingered long enough for their lips to brush.

Their tongues did not intertwine, but he gently grazed her teeth through parted lips before withdrawing.

"What did you mean by that…"

"Wow!"

"Congratulations!"

Her faint protest was drowned out by applause. The Duke took her hand, smiling as if nothing had transpired.

Had she misheard? Seraphina's thoughts spun into turmoil. While the Duke deftly acknowledged the crowd, her hand remained passive.

Instead of a jubilant bride, confusion clouded her mind. Unaware of the Count's piercing gaze, the Duke leaned close, adjusting her hair with a pretense.

"To ensure our marriage stands, let us both play our roles."

It wasn't a misunderstanding.

Later, Seraphina tried to converse with the Duke, but her attempts were in vain.

The reception was a whirl of activity, immediately following the ceremony. Despite her reluctance, Seraphina was swiftly changed into another wedding gown.

The Count appeared enthralled by the festivities, making the reception a grand affair.

To onlookers, it was a flawless spectacle.

Seraphina felt herself fading. Her frailty became apparent as the weight of her jewelry pressed upon her head, the tightness of her attire making it difficult to breathe.

Amidst it all, she engaged with the guests, fearing she might faint at any moment.

'Do well!'

The Count's words echoed incessantly, compelling her focus.

Any misstep would surely incur the Count's wrath—and not just his.

Even the guests would regard her with disdain. Her fingers trembled as she held the glass.

"Seraphina."

A sudden hand on her shoulder startled her, and she dropped the glass she held.