“As a reminder, the official announcement of your engagement with Prince Marik will be sent out this afternoon. The remaining princes will be sent home by the end of the day. Should you and Prince Marik decide to live together during your engagement, he’s welcome to stay with you in your wing. But please do not move into the guest cottage, as your wing has the most protection spells that the castle has.”
I nod, thinking about that. I guess the next logical step would be to move in with Marik. Even if living together here is only temporary, it makes sense that we would make that step together.
That should make me happy. It doesn’t.
“The wedding is currently scheduled for next Saturday,” he says.
“Do I get to have a bachelorette party?” I ask jokingly.
Ivan sighs but says, “It would have to be here.” He gestures around to the living room.
I smile and say, “I’d love that if we can arrange it. I’ll keep it small. Just me, Holly, Elle, and Cally.” He gives me a tight smile and nods.
He continues to give me details about the wedding, when I’ll choose a dress, how Marik will be sworn into his role as High King, and on and on. The very next step will be the engagement photos, which Marik and I will take tomorrow. After the pictures are taken, they’ll be used to send out formal invitations to the different High Houses. The entire kingdom will be invited to the wedding, just like the coronation.
After he leaves, I sit on the couch and in silence. My thoughts stray to Asmo, wondering what he’s doing, if he’s left yet. I don’t want to sit here in silence, my thoughts running through my head, but it feels impossible to stop them.
His words stung like tiny razorblades pressing against my skin. My own razorblade calls to me, but I resist the pull, remembering what happened the last time I lost control.
I do, however, give in to the urge to cry, telling myself it will be the only time I cry for Asmo.
But I know I’m a liar.
Chapter 33
Marik leads me into the forest, the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the mossy trees. I look back, the camera making a softclickas I do.
Taking photographs is a privilege reserved for the elite and even then, only for special occasions. The image is captured via the lens, which is pointed at the scene and captured by a special magic that few possess. We’ve been taking photographs for the last thirty minutes, and I’m already over it.
“Just be your natural selves,” the photographer has told us a million times already, exasperation edging his voice. This entire experience is foreign to me, but Marik, a High Prince, is a natural in front of the camera.
We continue to walk further and further into the forest, stopping at different places along the way to take pictures. We come to a shallow stream and the photographer stops and asks, “Mae, do you trust me?”
I look around and say, “I guess?”
“Good. Get in the water,” he says.
“You want me to getinthe water?” I ask, giving him a dubious look.
“Yes, I do. Knock this out of the park, and we can be done,” he says, already looking through his camera lens and pointing it toward the water.
“It’s got to be freezing,” I counter.
Marik tugs me toward the water and says, “So, warm it up.”
He’s right. I remove my shoes and stick my foot in the water. It’s shallow, but it’s freezing. I focus on heating it, feeling the temperature rise as I do. I stop it before it can steam. It’s not as warm as I would like, but it’s better than before.
Marik takes his shoes and socks off, then steps in, wading into the center. The stream is shallow, only coming up to his ankles, the bottoms of his black pants getting wet. He stands there and gestures for me to join him, so I head toward him, carefully navigating my way to him, stepping lightly on the stones that line the bottom of the stream. He holds his hand out to me so I can grab it in case I slip.
I make it to him, and he holds his arms out. I step into the embrace, sliding my arms around his neck while he wraps his arms around my waist.
“That’s it!” the photographer calls from the embankment, his camera already clicking, freezing the moment in time.
My head starts to turn to look at him, but Marik reaches up and cups my chin in his hand.
“It’s just us,” he says softly. “Focus on us. Focus on us here, now.”
I nod, trying to drown out the sounds and the pressure. I’ve been in far more intense situations, but for some reason,thispressure is getting to me. I feel like if I can’t do this, how is anyone going to expect me to lead a kingdom? How am I supposed to be a wife? This engagement shoot means this is real. Once Marik and I get married, we’ll officially transition into the roles of High King and High Queen.
