Two hours were over too soon. Elias stood before the huge mirror, all dolled up. His hair was in a neat ponytail, the red robe fit his body perfectly, and the golden chain on his waist jingled with every step.
Marriage had been a ceremony he greatly anticipated. But now… he chuckled bitterly.
The door burst open, interrupting his train of thought.
"It's time," a maid announced.
Elias nodded, then stepped forward and lowered a little as the veil descended over his head. Everything was familiar, but he knew better.
His eyes scanned the hall like an eagle, his vision sharp like one aiming for its favorite prey. His steps thundered against the marble floor, his fingers tightened around the white rose bouquet.
He walked in gracefully, and the prince sat at the end of the hall. His cold gaze pierced through the tiny fabric. His hand reached out as Elias walked closer.
Elias's eyes scanned from underneath the veil, his ears picked up every sound, and his head never missed a turn. He extended his hand, joining it with those of Prince Rowan. It was cold, as he remembered.
The ceremony was quick—within a glimpse, it was over—but Elias was still on high alert.
They had toasted with nobles and other royal family members, and had little to eat. It must have been one of those, he thought.
"Time to toast," the priest announced.
Elias watched Rowan reach out for the glass. His eyes steadied on the one he chose, then the leftover was extended to him.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Elias half hissed, his voice low but firm.
Rowan turned, his eyes cold and steady. "What… desperate for my lips?" he mocked.
"As if they would taste any better than the others," Elias sneered.
"Get the veil," he demanded, and Rowan half laughed. They had barely interacted, and the man before him was fast proving to be a feisty one.
"Oh." A soft sound escaped those parted lips.
Elias was fast. His actions were swift and went unnoticed, as everyone focused on the veil removal—his hands did the deed.
"Great, a match made by the heavens," a noble cheered—so did the rest.
Elias smiled warmly and grabbed his wine. He sipped gently, watching and waiting.
With a drink in one hand, he walked over with Rowan, who did small introductions. But then, it happened.
A loud scream erupted from behind, and a middle-aged man slumped.
"Dad… Daddy!" A woman's cries pierced through the harmonious hallway.
Elias turned to the man before him. His face was cold as always, but his eyes carried more than coldness.
"What's happening… Call the physician!" Rowan ordered.
Loud gasps rippled through the hall, and tongues wagged for more.
"He must not die!" Rowan yelled, desperation seeping through every word.
But Elias knew better, and the noble was soon cold as stone in no time.
A loud cry echoed. His daughter held his body, wailing and cursing, but there was nothing more.
The ceremony quickly ended with a funeral, just like the last time. But Elias was happy. It wasn't his.
Time seemed to slow down. Burial rites began almost immediately, and the hall was stripped of its glamorous glow. White mourning décor took over.
The altar where he had stood barely a few hours ago, promising to wed and protect a man he knew nothing of, was now a sanctuary for a dead man.
Elias watched from the shadows. Prince Rowan was pushed forward, and he said a word for the dead and his family.
"It is rather sad that such happened today of all days," he concluded, his gaze flickering from his people to Elias, who stood in the back as if avoiding the moment.
"We do not know what this is, but I promise to see to the end of it," he vowed, then placed a white rose on the deceased's casket before it was wheeled away.
From the shadows, eyes watched. Every move, word, and action would not go unnoticed.
While Elias desperately scanned for the two nobles—perpetrators of the master plan, but his hand was suddenly yanked, and his figure pulled away.
Elias barely had time to react or catch his breath when his back roughly slammed against the wall.
"Why are you still hanging around here?" a hoarse voice demanded.
The man before him carried a sword. From his smell alone, Elias could tell he was no Alpha. He was something more. Maybe a Lycan, but he couldn't wrap his head around his scent.
"Let go!" Elias hissed, pushing the man off.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
But the figure before him had part of his face covered, his hair nicely hidden from plain sight, and his eyes carried something… familiar.
"Leave while you can," the voice warned.
Elias opened his mouth to say something, but he was gone—like he came—swift and unnoticed.
He felt tired. All the events of the day were taking their toll on his body, and tiredly, he walked to his bedchamber.
Behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes and judging tongues of all, he collapsed to the floor, his knees buckled against his chest. Hot tears streamed down his face.
"Wasn't it supposed to be easy?" he asked himself.
"You did not have to care. You should be fearless and emotionless and watch them burn in the fire you created. But then… why am I hurt?" He sobbed quietly.
Elias was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the knock from behind. It wasn't until the door was almost forced open that he reacted and quickly opened up.
Prince Rowan glared at him but said nothing. He watched the maid prepare the prince for bed and exited when he settled.
"Why are you here?" Elias demanded furiously.
"We are married. Where else would I be on the first night of taking a consort if not consummating the marriage?" Rowan hissed.
Elias was in no mood for his games. He too was tired, his mind was chaotic, and Rowan's presence wasn't helping.
"You should leave. The contract states I marry, not mate you or produce an heir," he snapped, stepping forward. The air between the two tensed. Elias folded, but nothing could've prepared him for what happened next.
Prince Rowan casually stepped down from the bed, and stood on both legs.
"You're—" Elias trembled. His mouth seemed to have lost its most important function.
He watched the prince step forward steadily.
"What… not happy you didn't marry a cripple?" Rowan's eyes darkened, his lips curled up dangerously.
Elias stepped back, doubling every step. But soon, his back was caught between the wall and the man before him.
"I… I thought you couldn't walk." He stammered.
Rowan's slender hand raised, meeting his face. His eyes devoured the little space between them, their bodies inches away. He leaned in, his breath wrapping around him like a warning echo.
"Well… you thought wrong."