Bride of the Traitor (The Prophecy of Sisters #1) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,38
shake my head once. “I do not wish to hear objections. I want it done, and immediately, as I know it is almost time.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he whispers before he takes his leave.
“You’re marrying her, truly,” Merek mutters.
Lifting my chin, I take a step toward him. “I am. Keep your enemies close, Merek. It is ingrained in us, this is just a different kind of enemy. You’ll see that this was a wise decision. In the end, I think it will matter not. The prophecy will never come to fruition, the Queen will never be out of sight. She will never see her sisters again, therefore it will never happen and one day, when we’re old and gray, we will all have a good laugh.”
“I hope you’re right, cousin.”
“Me too,” I rasp.
Together we leave the chancery and make our way toward the makeshift altar. The priest is already waiting to marry us, he dips his chin toward me, dressed in his finery. I look as if this is just another day, not bothering to wear any of the traditional groom’s clothing, especially that fit for a king. I simply can’t be bothered.
There is a gasp. Turning toward the end of the altar, red creeps up my neck and assuredly my face at the sight before me.
Though she is lovely, my bride insults me.
The daft woman is dressed all in funeral black.
My lips twitch as soon as she takes a step toward me. I should be angry. Indeed, I am, but I’m also looking forward to punishing her for this embarrassment, and punish her I will.
SYBILLA
He’s smiling, it’s anything but kind looking. In fact, it looks a little twisted. My heart begins to race at the sight as I walk closer and closer toward Elias. Toward my fate, or maybe, my doom.
He reaches out for me, pulling me closer to him. I fall forward, my body leaning heavily against his as I try to find my footing. He dips his chin, his steel-blue gaze completely focused and entrancing as he stares at me.
“You’ll be punished for this, Sybilla,” he rasps.
“For what?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Funeral black,” he grunts.
My lips twitch and I shrug a shoulder as I right myself. The dress is black, but it’s so luxurious that I couldn’t not wear it.
Instead of velvet, it’s made of a soft silk fabric. The sleeves are long, all the way down to my wrists. It’s not nearly as low cut as the other gowns that I’ve been wearing, but it does dip into a deep-V showing an expanse of chest and cleavage.
The bodice is tight, laced together with ribbons hidden on the inside at my back, giving me the illusion of an extreme hourglass figure. I can’t deny that although they are uncomfortable, it makes me feel absolutely luscious. The back of the gown has rhinestone type buttons that had to be hooked individually by Katrina.
My shoes are another pair of slippers, I chose a light blue, trying not to shirk tradition too much. Jasmine didn’t understand my need for something borrowed, blue, and new, she looked at me like I was completely insane.
The bodice of the dress and the hem are adorned with soft deep gold lace and small rhinestones are sewn into the delicate material. Though it’s funeral black, as Elias claimed, it’s the most breathtaking dress I’ve ever worn, and obviously closer to my size than the others.
Ellyn did my hair, pulling it into a pile on top of my head, twisting strands, braiding them, and sticking the black-tipped pins in it.
My makeup is heavy, my lids are deep gold, lined with thick black liner and my cheeks were given a touch of blush.
My lips are the most dramatic though, lined with deep berry, almost black then painted with a thick lipstick type cream.
The priest is talking, but I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Every now and then his voice booms and it causes me to jump, which in turn causes Elias to chuckle. Then Elias takes my hand and turns me to face him, reaching for my other hand. He grasps both of my hands in his and I’m forced to look up into his blue eyes.
He is staring at me, intently, before he speaks. “Aye.” His voice rumbles through the hall. He dips his chin in a way where I know it’s my turn to say yes.
“Yes,” I exhale, unsure of what I’m agreeing to exactly.
The priest holds out his hand and Elias reaches forward, taking