Always In Sight

Ch. 2

    The first step was the hardest and Raven thought she might pass out. Had getting air into her lungs always been this hard? The sun beat down on her, heat radiating from her. When did it get so hot out?

    Her father still held her arm, his hand in a vice like grip around it. Almost like he knew any second her feet could take her in another direction. Stepping towards the man, dressed to the nines, in his black suit, at the end of the aisle seemed impossible. Running in the opposite direction, however, seemed entirely doable. Easy even. 

    The entirety of her foot was made of lead, of this she was positive. But the step happened, Aleander practically dragging her along. Once momentum was gained, each step took less out of her. Like running down a hill. 

    Raven found herself there, at the end of the aisle, standing next to a priest, and, well, her soon to be husband. Zorphos looked at her, analyzing her. He almost looked like a robot, so devoid of actual emotion. She smiled at that, the first real one in days. Maybe, at the very least, she would look happy in this moment. Even if it was at the expense of the man she was marrying. 

    Zorphos lorded over her, probably standing at 6 and a half feet tall. Standing at 5 foot, 8 inches, Raven was taller than most of the women she knew, but standing next to this man intimidated her slightly. 

    His blue eyes pierced her, as the priest said some words she could barely hear over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. The sharp outline of his jaw stood out even more as he clenched it, a jawline most women would pierce themselves on again and again, just to get close to the man in front of her.

    What was wrong with her? He was handsome, his face accentuated by the dimples that formed when he turned and smiled at the crowd. A good king looks to the people, she thought miserably. 

    While he had never expressed any particular fondness for her in the brief moments they had met up, always under supervision of her parents, he had never been unkind. Withdrawn, mysterious even. You could call her the same, but he at least had control over who he married. On some level, he must want this, Raven thought. He could have anyone, and yet, here he stood, on their doorstep, brandishing a white flag, talking about peace and marriage. Pulling her into this without her say so.

    In the background, the priest droned on, saying something about everlasting love. Good riddance. Zorphos looked at her again. What a dumb name, she mused. Is that a name they would pass to their children? Would she run around chasing little Zorphos Junior? 

    Raven looked back and she realized why he was looking directly at her, almost into her soul. His hands were reaching out for hers, this moment was their moment. 

    “And do you take Raven Kamonas, princess of Eanneomund, first of her name, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest said. 

    “I do.” Zorphos said, smiling at her. 

    When had her palms become so sweaty? He was still holding her hands, playing the part, the dutiful king, the loving husband. Certainly it couldn’t be genuine. They had met twice before this moment. Even she had never fallen in love at first sight, a girl with a vivid imagination, a dreamer, who loved to love.

    The priest turned towards her now, his white shoes scuffing on the platform and the matching robes blowing in the wind. Raven thought she might be sick. 

    “And do you take Zophos Toussaint, King of Mecealion, in sickness and in health, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

    Her stomach roiled, her body seemed to reject the words even as they came out. How distorted they sounded, compared to his words, which seemed to roll off his tongue easily. 

    “I do.” Raven stated. 

    She dared to look into the crowd for just a moment, glimpsing her mother’s face for the first time. She was smiling, tears of happiness rolling down her face, completely oblivious to the anxieties of Raven. At least someone is happy today, Raven thought, as the priest stated, “You may now kiss the bride.” 

    Zorphos leaned in, eyes wide open. Weren’t you supposed to close them? That’s what Rachel always said, that you kissed with your eyes closed. His head tilted slightly to the left, so she turned hers the other way, glancing into those eyes again. 

    Blue, when she so desperately wanted green. Green flecked with bits of copper, like foliage of a perfect forest. His sharp jaw got closer, when she wanted the softer edges of someone else. 

    The incident that bumped up the date of the wedding, that had her parents on edge, replayed over and over in her mind. Green eyes looking at her, softer angles, different faces. 

    His lips touched hers and she smelled him. He smelled of the sea and horses. Maybe he rode this morning, on the beaches near them. But that smell, it was all wrong. And the touch of his lips was too coarse, too hard. 

    It was over before it even started, a chaste kiss. Not like stolen kisses behind closed doors, quick to pull apart before getting caught. The only kinds of kisses she had known, ones interlaced with excitement, with affection. And, now, she knew, learning from experience, that they had been laced with trouble.

    Then, in front of all her family and friends, as the priest pronounced them husband in wife, Raven knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would never love this man.

    The wind ruffled her dress, her smile feigned as they walked down the aisle, united together. Forever. Her fate sealed in an instant, in a kiss. 

    That’s when it began, a small little plan. Not even a plan really, just the thought of a plan, a plot sketched from deep in the back of her brain. To get away, and stay away. First though, Raven thought, as green eyes flashed through her memories, first, she would have to find Zara.