All the other details of her attire—from the flash of her sapphire crown to the golden sun pendant draped around her throat to the beaded wedding gown clinging to her shapely form—faded away. Utterly insignificant when placed against that smile of hers. It was a smile that put the very sun to shame. A smile that could have melted the most frozen reaches of Elmoria. A smile that could have stopped any man’s heart.
It certainly stopped his.
Words failed him as he stared at his future wife, tracking her every step. Elegant, ethereal, she swept toward him in time with the stately music trilling forth from the flautists and violinists positioned off to the side. He barely noticed Duke Percival accompanying her down the aisle. He barely noticed anything at all beyond her.
His pretty kirei. His future wife. His queen.
…Why? Why was she doing this again? Why was she marryinghim? The weak reason she had given him back in the throne room fled from his thoughts, burned away by the mere sight of her.
Seraphina de la Croix was perfection.
Perfect. She was perfect.
And it had nothing at all to do with her flawless skin and everything to do with how happy she looked in that moment.Happy. He had never seen her so happy. It radiated from her every pore, as if she were illuminated from within. As if she were a beacon sent to chase the shadows from the darkest night.
His chest tightened. Why was she so happy? Surely it wasn’t because of this? Him? The wedding? No. No, it couldn’t be. Neverin his life had he ever garnered such a reaction from a woman. Not even when he was younger and had both his eyes, let alone fewer scars.
She couldn’t be smiling like this for him.
It wasn’t possible.
“Steady on, Your Highness,” Father Perero murmured, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.
He gritted his teeth to keep from scowling when he realized the holy man was teasing him. What had become of him, that his thoughts were written so plainly on his face? Could the rest of the room see it, too?
Was he staring, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed?
Mooning over his wife like some starstruck boy?
Clenching his hands into fists, he reminded himself of all the things that made Seraphina de la Croix completely insufferable. Her attitude, for one. The way she lifted her sharp chin and took up that petulant look of hers when she was determined to get her way, for another.
How easily she dismissed him and his opinions at every turn.
And as she finally met his gaze, as she finallylookedat him properly and he watched the light in her eyes die a swift death, he reminded himself of other things, too—how much she loathed him, just as all women loathed him. How he was going through with this farce of a wedding for one reason and one reason alone: Drakmor.
That was all he cared about.
That was all he needed.
Not her. Not her beauty. Not her happiness that she clearly reserved for all others, but never for him.
Just Drakmor.
“Crow,” Seraphina coolly greeted him under her breath as she and her godfather came to a pause before him. The disdain dripping off that single word was just the splash of cold water he needed to further cement his feelings for his kirei.
Nothing. He felt absolutely nothing.
“Wife,” he softly greeted her in turn, knowing how much she hated when he called her that.
A muscle in her jaw twitched. Her sudden annoyance with him blanketed the cathedral. Palpable. Oppressive.
He fought hard to hide one of his rare smiles.
Despite all that this silly girl forced him to endure, he couldn’t help it—getting under her skin was a special kind of pleasure.
Chapter twelve
Seraphina
