The commoner king

The Altar

Elera p.o.v

The dress was white.

I want to note that specifically because it felt like a joke. For being pure white for new starts white for the bride who stands at the altar with a secret. She is carrying it like a stone in her chest. There is a note from her groom. It is folded into the lining of a coat she isn't wearing today. White.

Senna helped me get dressed in silence. Her silence had a texture to it. This one meant she had things to say but decided against saying them. The timing made them useless. I appreciated her discipline. I was doing the thing.

There were flowers. Someone chose ones. The chapel looked formal like a wedding. My father spent money on this. Real money, not a little bit.

That told me something. I remembered it.

I counted the guards on my way down the corridor.

There were four on the left. Three on the right. Two stood by the chapel entrance. They had weapons. One was inside the door at the back. This was unusual. Weddings don't usually have a guard inside the door unless someone is worried about someone leaving.

Someone was worried about someone leaving.

The guard at the back had a knee. I noticed this two days ago. The way he shifted his weight. He would be slower than the others. I noted his position. Then stopped. I wasn't going to run from my wedding in a white dress.

I noted it anyway. Like I noted exits in every room since I was eleven years old. Some habits are hard to change.

The chapel was full.

It wasn't with people I knew. It was with people my father knew. Faces I recognized from court functions. They watched me walk in. They wanted to see if the rumors were true.

I gave them nothing.

I had been giving courts nothing since I was a kid. It was the skill I learned. The face that shows you what I want you to see. I wore it down the aisle like I wore the dress. Because the occasion required it.

My father was at the front. He looked at me like he always did when things went according to his plan. Not warmly,. With satisfaction.

I was like an item to him. Today, more than usual.

I didn't look at the groom. I decided this on the walk. Looking at him would make my face do something. I couldn't afford that in front of many people. I looked at the officiant instead. A man with a practiced expression.

The ceremony began.

I tracked time by the officiants voice. The preamble took four minutes. The declaration of intent took two. My responses came out in the order and volume. I wasn't really present. I was running calculations. I was waiting for the moment when I had to engage with the man standing to me.

We hadn't looked at each other. I didn't know if he was doing the thing or something else. I wasn't going to find out by looking.

The ring portion required us to be close.

He moved first. Stepped took my hand and I stared above the officiants shoulder. I felt the ring slide onto my finger. I thought about nothing.

Then he leaned in.

Not dramatically. A little. His voice was quiet. Four words: "I'm getting you out."

The ring was on my finger. The organ played. The officiant spoke. I stood at the altar in a dress.

My husbands thumb moved across my knuckle. A touch. I looked at him. I don't know why. After everything I'd decided.

He was already looking at me. For a second I saw it. Not the king, not the stranger. Him. Cael.

One second. Then it was gone.

The ceremony concluded. The room applauded.

I faced forward. Smiled. I thought: I'm getting you out.

Out of what? Out of my fathers palace? Out of this marriage? Out of the kingdom?

Four words. A thumb across my knuckle. Six months of silence.

Trust me.

The note said trust me.

I hadn't decided yet. The ring was on my finger. His hand was, at my back. We walked out into the daylight together.

My husbands face gave away nothing.

Mine I hoped, gave away the same.

Underneath the white dress something was starting.

It was not dead. It had never been dead.

That was. The best thing that happened to me today or the most dangerous.

Probably both.