Perhaps he had once had some chance of his future spouse feeling affectionate towards him. But now? Now Gerard would be lucky if he married someone who could tolerate the sight of him.
Chapter
Three
The lightning prince, Elias Storm, stared out the window of the carriage as it rattled along. He gazed towards the sandstone city walls of the White Monastery.
“Do you think Empress Emmaline will be displeased we are here earlier than we are supposed to be?” Colette, a very distant cousin, asked.
“I’m sure she will be,” Elias said, voice flat.
Colette sucked in a breath.
Two green dragons swooped and disappeared amongst the towers, spires, and turrets that pierced the early morning sky. Not long ago, those dragons would have meant doom for someone from Voltaria.
Not anymore.
He turned his gaze to Colette, who wrung her hands in her lap.
“But don’t you worry about the empress.” Elias patted her hand and smiled. “I can handle my stepmother.” He tossed his long white hair.
She gave a wavering smile.
Before his family had left for the peace assembly, his stepmother had informed Elias his attendance would be unnecessary. Not wanting to deal with the empress or boring meetings involving boring people, he’d acquiesced and stayed home.
After all, he wanted the peace treaty. But the terms and details seemed irrelevant to him. Or so he had thought.
Because then he had received a letter from his father, Emperor Hugo. It stated that eight marriages between royals of Draconia and those with whom they had been at war would be required to seal the peace treaty. And Elias would be one of those entering into an arranged marriage at the White Monastery.
Although the script was his father’s, the words were clearly his stepmother’s. Elias gritted his teeth.
In the letter, he’d been informed that once his betrothed had been negotiated by the council of Zephyrias and Voltaria, he would then be required to come to the White Monastery, where the marriage would take place.
The White Monastery was run by the Monks of the Way of the Dove. They practiced an ancient form of binding magic, which meant that the contracts and treaties entered into here would be practically unbreakable. Well, almost unbreakable. If someone did not fulfil their vows, they would end up sick, mad, or dead.
Elias had been told that all that would be required of him when he turned up was to enter into this practically unbreakable marriage contract with a total stranger.
Fuck that!
Immediately, Elias had ordered a carriage. He’d packed or, more specifically, his servants had packed under his supervision, and he’d informed his cousin, who’d onlyarrived a couple of weeks earlier, that they’d be travelling to the peace assembly that day.
It had been an arduous and long journey from Voltaria, but here they finally were. And although he felt like shit, he knew he looked glorious.
He imagined the pinched look on the empress’s narrow face when Elias strode into the room, dressed in his finest robes. He’d flirt and laugh and draw every eye in the room to him. No one would look twice at his half-siblings with him there.
His stepmother would smoulder, and her grey eyes would flash. But she could say nothing about her stepson’s behaviour. Elias smiled.
He just hoped he had arrived in time so he could still have some say in who he would marry and be bound to for the rest of his or his spouse’s life, whoever died first.
But if he’d left it up to the empress and the council, he’d no doubt be married to some elderly, repulsive, shit-for-brains dragon with damp hands and stagnant breath that smelled of raw meat.
He didn’t imagine he could get out of the marriage. It had already been decided, and going against the emperor, empress, and all the councillors would be difficult. But he could hopefully influence who he married.
The carriage paused as they reached the city gates. The warrior monks guarding the White Monastery approached and spoke to the driver. After a second, the metal portcullis creaked and slowly raised.
The carriage rattled along, and they entered the outer monastery, a city where non-monks lived.
“Will there be balls?” Colette pressed her face against the glass, gazing out at the city.
