The Fallen Princess

Thirty One

“Are you ready to be married?” Mercy’s voice was soft, almost reverent, as she worked through the final braid of Zaria’s white hair. Her fingers moved carefully, weaving each strand with a delicacy that felt ceremonial. Like she was braiding not just hair, but destiny.

Zaria nodded, far calmer now than she had been the night she secretly wed Callen. Her heart still trembled beneath the surface, but on the outside she appeared steady. “Are you prepared for the wedding night?” Mercy pressed gently, though her voice wavered with something tender and aching.

Zaria’s stomach tightened. She rested her hands over the lace overlay that skimmed her still-flat abdomen. “Will it hurt my baby?” she asked instead. Mercy’s expression softened instantly. She set the braid down and folded Zaria into a warm, grounding embrace.

“Our husband is a gentle man,” she assured softly. “And this will not harm the child. Closeness between spouses is...” But Mercy never finished the thought. Zaria wrapped her arms around her suddenly, holding her tight.

Mercy froze, then broke. Quiet tears slipped down her cheeks as she leaned into Zaria’s shoulder, fingers clutching the silk of her gown.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” Zaria whispered, rubbing slow circles along Mercy’s back. “I’m sorry.”

“If he must marry another,” Mercy choked out, voice trembling, “I’m glad it’s you.” Zaria pulled back just as the door slammed open.

“Aunt Zaria!” Sophie barreled into the room like an enthusiastic storm, raven curls bouncing behind her. Little Ava toddled in afterward, arms extended toward Zaria. “Sophie!” Mercy cried, exasperated. “How many times must I tell you to knock?”

The nanny burst in next, panting. Zaria quickly helped lift Ava onto her hip and then handed her gently back. “I’m so sorry, My Lady!” the nanny squeaked.

“It’s my fault.” Zakai stepped inside behind them, casual as ever. Zaria bit back a grin... she vividly remembered seeing this same nanny sneaking out of her brother’s room at dawn the day before.

“I stopped her to ask where you two were,” Zakai continued dryly. “Sophie slipped between my legs and shot down the hall before I could grab her.” He tugged uncomfortably at his formal uniform, refusing to meet Zaria’s eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he muttered. Zaria rolled her eyes fondly. Mercy sighed, rubbing her temples. “I need a new nanny.” Zakai stiffened. Immediately. Zaria nearly laughed. “Really?” she asked innocently. “I think she’s lovely. What do you think, Zakai?”

He scowled. “She is a good… person, I suppose.” Mercy looked confused. Zaria smothered a smile. “It’s almost time,” Zakai said, offering Zaria his arm. She took it and drew a slow, steady breath.

Mercy kissed the air near her cheek. “Next time I see you, you’ll be Lady Elarion.” “I’ll always just be Zaria,” she murmured. “The fallen princess from a foreign land.” “That isn’t true,” Mercy insisted. “You are Zaria, the soul who brings joy to everyone she meets.”

Behind her, Zakai shook his head emphatically. Zaria elbowed him lightly. He guided her into a dim corridor she had never seen before. “Where are we going?” “You’ll see.”

They slipped through the servants’ quarters, lanterns flickering over rough stone walls. “She doesn’t know you at all,” Zakai muttered under his breath. “Who?” “Lady Mercy.” Zaria scoffed. “I bring people joy.”

“Name one person.” She mimicked him mockingly. “Callen.” “No.” She blinked at him. “No?” “You frustrate me more often than you bring him joy.” A familiar voice echoed behind her. “Callen?” She whirled and ran straight into his arms.

Zakai cleared his throat loudly. “Five minutes.” Callen didn’t even look at him. “Did you fly here?” Zaria whispered, eyes bright. He smirked. “I think they’d notice if a golden dragon landed on the estate.”

She finally noticed the plain servant’s uniform he wore and laughed. “You’re the most handsome server I’ve ever seen.” He gathered her close, one arm locked around her waist, the other brushing tenderly along her neck.

“I missed you.” “I missed you more.” They held each other desperately until he murmured, “I couldn’t miss my wife’s big day.” “I already had my big day,” she whispered. “True,” he smirked. “But this is the day you officially become a criminal.”

She laughed softly until he dropped to his knees. Zaria froze. Callen pressed his forehead to her stomach tenderly. Then kissed her. Soft, reverent, aching. “I love you, little one,” he whispered. “Take care of your mother.”

Her fingers slid through his hair as her heart cracked and healed in the same breath. Zakai knocked again... hard. Callen rose and forced a grin.

“You look like a cliché bride,” he teased. “You were much more beautiful when I married you.” She hit his chest lightly. He caught her hand and kissed her. Deeply, hungrily until Zakai’s third knock separated them.

“Have a terrible day,” Callen grumbled. “I hope it rains.” She laughed breathlessly as he slipped away. “Until we meet again, my wife,” he whispered, adjusting the melted clasp on her bracelet before disappearing.

The wedding ceremony was breathtaking. Hundreds of glass lanterns shimmered like suspended stars. Blue and silver flowers lined the aisle in cascading waves, and a string quartet played unseen, notes drifting like petals in the wind.

It was the sort of perfect Zaria had come to dread. She moved through it all like a marionette:

smile, nod, bow, repeat. Her heart was nowhere in the room. Her heart was somewhere golden. Somewhere burning. Somewhere shaped like a dragon.

During the reception, elves toasted her health, her future, her marriage. Zaria lifted her goblet mechanically, her painted smile fragile as glass. She tilted her face upward, toward the expanse of sky beyond the open windows, and whispered: “Let it rain.”

Just one drop. One tear from the heavens. One sign she was not entirely alone in this. A cold droplet tapped her hand. She stared. Another fell. Then another. Only a light sprinkle... barely there, delicate... but for Zaria, it was enough. Hope unfurled softly in her chest and she breathed again.