Vows And Veil

Oh my, The Devil Knows.

Dancing has never been Adelaide's forte. She approaches it with a sense of indifference, finding herself rather uninspired by this art form. Despite weeks of instruction aimed at perfecting her moves for tonight's dance with her husband, Adelaide never quite found her rhythm. She had hoped that her husband would be able to guide her through, believing that the closeness they shared would overshadow any lack of skill. However, the reality turned out to be far more disastrous than she anticipated.

As the music began to play, Adelaide felt Gerald's firm grip on her waist, urging her to move in time with his rapid steps. Caught off guard, she hesitated, only to be pulled into motion by Gerald's insistence. With each forced step, Adelaide couldn't help but feel a sense of discomfort, longing for the dance to end as quickly as possible.

Tonight was a trial of endurance for him, each moment stretching out in agonizing increments. He resented the scrutiny of every gaze fixed upon him, unable to betray his inner turmoil amidst the facade of celebration. The relentless festivities grated on his nerves, a constant reminder of the unwanted union forced upon him by his own hand.

His brother's return only served to exacerbate his frustration, a bitter reminder of the sacrifices made in vain. The weight of guilt and remorse in his brother's gaze was almost suffocating, a silent accusation for the havoc wreaked upon their lives. And yet, his father's obliviousness to the consequences of his actions only added fuel to the fire of his resentment.

Beside him, his mother's silence spoke volumes, a silent witness to the charade unfolding before them. The superficial exchanges and forced pleasantries grated on his nerves, a stark juxtaposition to the turmoil raging within.

Even the drinks offered failed to provide solace, their weak concoctions offering no respite from the storm brewing within. But above all, it was the looming presence of the woman he was compelled to call his wife that filled him with a profound sense of dread and resentment, a constant reminder of his lack of agency in his own fate.

"Move," he ground out between clenched teeth, his frustration boiling over and seeking an outlet. With nothing else to direct his ire towards, he seized upon her, his grip unyielding as he pulled her close. To onlookers, it might have appeared a tender gesture, but Adelaide felt the seething animosity coursing through his touch, a palpable manifestation of his disdain.

Reflexively, she clung to his shoulder, a desperate attempt to assert some semblance of control over their shared dance. Emboldened by the scrutiny of their audience, she dared to confront him. "You are displaying egregious rudeness, Prince Gerald," she ventured, her voice steady despite the tumult raging within her.

Gerald's response was a derisive snort, his impulse to push her away warring with the constraints of decorum. Every contact with her felt like penance, each touches a scalding reminder of his resentment. He longed to put as much distance between them as possible, her presence an unbearable burden weighing upon him. The scent of her perfume turned his stomach, her touch a brand upon his skin.

"Save your words," he commanded tersely, his gaze flickering towards their family. The sight of their feigned smiles and feigned merriment only fueled his bitterness, a stark contrast to the genuine pity he discerned in Fredrick's eyes.

Adelaide felt the sting of his cutting words like a physical blow. She shared Gerald's pain over the forced marriage, so why was she denied the same freedom to express her anguish openly? She had entered into this union believing she was marrying the man she loved, only to be abandoned and left heartbroken by Fredrick's desertion. Now, she was wedded to his younger brother, a bitter twist of fate that left her with every right to harbor resentment.

Why should she be expected to accept this fate meekly? She had done nothing to deserve such treatment, nothing to warrant Gerald's disdain. As she swallowed back her hurt and glanced at her parents, she saw only evasion in their eyes. They owed her answers—answers about the mysterious letters purportedly sent by Fredrick, the same letters Gerald claimed never existed. If Fredrick hadn't sent them, then who had? And what did her parents know about it?