“It is a resourceful solution. A genius idea. Better than anyone’s,” Sol tried to remember what others had said about Meena’s plan. “It is our best option.”
She closed the door and turned around. He could not see her face in the darkness.
“Is that a yes, then?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Sol replied.
The tension in his body dissolved into lightness.
Chapter 13
Meena stood below the dais in the great hall. She wore the deep purple dress which had been made for Ian’s dance during the last silverreign. There had not been time to create a new dress for the occasion. Not that it bothered Meena. The last few days had been more than full planning a wedding in public, and planning a dangerous mission behind closed doors.
The hall around her was full of nobles, relatives, and friends from the palace and city. King Frederich shared the full extent of their political situation with their most trusted inner circle, but for the most part, the hundreds of witnesses had no idea the wedding was anything other than a love match.
From the upper balcony, a group of musicians played joyful tunes. The happy sounds flooded the room, lifting the spirits of nearly everyone present.
The usual palace guard stood in their strategically appointed positions. Each one, however, was flanked by a ‘visiting’ soldier from Chendas. The councilor himself stood on the dais next to the royal family.
Lord Gilart and two of his sons traveled through multiple nights from Allys to stand on the dais as well. As close friends of the Sirilian family, they had been informed of the situation, and gladly welcomed Sol into the family whenever the councilor was present. Even Aizel and Celesta, masked under layers of millinery and face powder, stood with the Gilart family as Sol’s sisters.
Meena was not sure if the Gilart family knew or believed in the full extent of the chaos and harmony magic users, but they were happy to participate in a plan which undermined King Gareth.
In all, the moment was exactly as Meena had imagined her wedding to be. Though in her dreams, the face of the man standing before her was always hazy. Now, it was very clear. Too clear.
Meena stared at Sol’s face as though she were a woman in love. It was not difficult, she could see every small detail of his appearance and disposition and she liked what she saw. His freshly shaved skin made him look younger, though it revealed the firmly pursed expression of his lips. This was a boy who had been forced too soon to play the part of a man. Meena wanted to place her hand on his cheek, to ease away the constant rigidity in his face and posture.
She could feel his intense gaze watching her from under hooded lids, but she flicked her eyes away, afraid he would read her thoughts if she met them.
As the music ended with a triumphant flourish, Queen Cara stepped forward to stand in front of the couple.
Meena drew her eyes back to Sol’s face. Suddenly, her hands felt cold and sweaty at the same time. She wiped them on her dress, hoping no one would notice the motion.
Sol looked solemn. More than solemn, stern. Meena felt a strange flutter in her chest as she swallowed, smiling sweetly up at him to ensure at least one of them was performing this correctly.
Scanning around the side of his face, she took in his curling brown hair. He kept it shorter than most of the men she knew, less than a hand’s length long. A stray strand fell across his forehead and her chest relaxed. The unruly curl softened him, proving that he was indeed human.
Finally, when she had taken in his whole face, she brought her eyes to meet his. Her heart thumped in her chest, seemingly loud enough to be heard in her own ears. Hopefully, he could not hear it.
His intense eyes were a rocky green. Not the bright gem-like color of Aizel and Celesta’s eyes, but a mossy green, streaked with gray.
He stared back at her, hardly blinking. His gaze was direct, but guarded. He seemed to be as intensely focused on her as she was on him.
For just a moment, Meena imagined if this truly was the wedding she had always wanted. The only thing out of place was the small wrinkle between Sol’s eyebrows. Perhaps, for a moment, she could pretend it was a wrinkle of excitement and responsibility. That the man she was marrying truly wanted to marry her. That he was looking at her with eyes of love and honesty.
Meena started, coming back to the moment. Sol was not the husband she’d always dreamed of. He was a stranger.
Even if this wedding was a farce, it was likely the only wedding she’d ever have. She was a princess and the attendants believed it was real. And with the precarious future of her kingdom, it felt selfish to imagine a real wedding in the future. If she ever had the chance to marry for real, to someone who truly loved her, it would be in a small and private place, surrounded by beautiful trees and a blue sky and with no deception to mar its loveliness.
Sol still had the small wrinkle between his eyebrows. Meena wanted to reach up and gently massage it with her finger. They were in this together. She scrunched her nose at him, reminding him to relax.
His eyes lost the guarded look for a moment as he reacted to her expression, but he did not relax enough to smile.
“You may join hands,” Queen Cara whispered.
Sol lifted his hand, holding it palm up.
Meena swallowed back the overwhelming feelings of disappointment which threatened to spill out. Lifting her hand, she placed it in his.
