Page 125 of Plug and Tame

“Your best man is also absent.”

Nathaniel smirked in response. “Arken has a tendency to be fashionably late. He was in his cups when I left. He’ll no doubt arrive during the reception, completely stewed and in search of more drink.”

Henrikk rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his lips curling in a condescending smile. Nathaniel hid the resentment he felt for his father’s obvious pleasure in Arken’s lingering afflictions. Henrikk had been exploiting Arken’s vulnerabilities for years.

It was fitting, really, that the one to take Henrikk’s place would be Arken. He would be a better ruler than any one of them—Kira excepted. It was why he’d asked Arken to stay back at the academy with Susie tonight. There was no telling how bloody the aftermath of Henrikk’s death would be, and he did not want his friend caught up in any deadly brawls. As for Nathaniel, he would be incapacitated—the curse would grip him almost instantly. He therefore needed someone he could trust to look out for Kira once he was gone. Perhaps, Arken would become her royal advisor. Nathaniel retained a small hope that maybe, Arken would rule, and Kira would opt for a normal life away from the volatility of court life.

“I regret that Arken is delayed,” Henrikk said dismissively, not sounding sorry at all. He rose and embraced Nathaniel, a grand gesture that was for the benefit of the courtiers. He raised his voice. “Happy Birthday, son.”

The courtiers erupted into applause.

As Nathaniel took a seat in a smaller, but no less ornate chair beside his father, the crowd resumed its chatter.

“I have a wedding gift for you,” Henrikk announced.

Nathaniel went still. A gift from his father could not be a good thing. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Henrikk did not say anything more, leaving Nathaniel to try and appear relaxed even as cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Without warning, an organ began to play a bridal chorus, and the room fell silent as the Throne Room’s double doors swung open.

Nathaniel’s head whipped to his father, but the King didn’t look at him, merely smiled as bridesmaids began to file into the room. He couldn’t believe it. There had been no preamble, no ‘are you ready?’ before the biggest, most dreaded event of his life began.

“Try and look pleased with your bride, Nathaniel,” Henrikk said lightly without looking at him.

Nathaniel forced his gaze to Gloria, who was entering the Throne Room wearing a traditional vampire wedding dress—a red monstrosity of gauze and silks that blended with the carpet.

She was every male vampire’s fantasy, but not Nathaniel’s. On some level, he knew that by marrying her, he would prevent his father from killing Gloria and the threat she posed to his reign. That fact might have made the prospect of the wedding a little easier to bear, had there not been a thousand reasons not to marry her.

Like the fact that Gloria was not a kind person. Or that the marriage was a betrayal of his heart, which beat only for Kira.

Or the fact that none of this matters, because I’ll soon betray my own blood line.

As Gloria drew closer, Nathaniel spotted the sequins, which gleamed like droplets of blood. Her blonde hair was gathered high in loose curls, and her ears were studded with rubies, which matched the engagement ring Nathaniel had given her. She blushed prettily, and as her eyes met Nathaniel’s, he felt a pang of guilt at the hope that lay there.

Gloria was many things, but this was her wedding day, and all her hopes were pinned on him.

Nathaniel rose, his legs numb as he strode down the dais and led Gloria up the steps, an easy feat given the slope of the room.

“Nathaniel,” Gloria greeted, sounding so nervous and happy as she clutched his hand that he forced himself to smile at her.

A priest approached, making Nathaniel’s insides seize. It was starting. The wedding was starting, but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t even really here. His heart and soul were far away, in a country lane that was quiet, unassuming, and held everything he needed to be a very happy man.

But his body was here, and although this night would end with the King’s crown on the floor and a knife in his father’s heart, the part of him that lived and breathed was screaming at him for ignoring what he so desperately wanted. To leave this place and find Kira.

“Are you both ready?” asked the priest cheerfully, glancing between him and Gloria.

“Yes, we are ready” said Gloria, before turning at him with a small frown. “Aren’t we, Nathaniel?”

He gave a stiff nod as bile crept up his throat. He could not bring himself to smile or speak.

He could scarcely breathe.

“Dearly beloved,” began the priest, his words ringing in Nathaniel’s ears.

He could hardly hear a word over the pounding of his chest, but he was powerless to slow down time. A few minutes later, he jerked out of his stupor when Gloria turned to him, holding his hands tightly, and said, “I do.”