Cold Hands Warm Heart (A Vampire Fan Fiction) - Harry Styles

Chapter 7• Shattered Part 2

Warning: Violent scenes may occurred and strict words. Read at your own risk.

Carolina's POV

I turned the last pin in my hair, the silken ribbon now perfectly placed, and gazed at my reflection. A soft smile graced my lips as I stood from my stool, turning slowly for Rowena to see. "The ribbon is beautiful, Carolina," she said, her voice a low murmur.

Her gown of dark green was adorned with tiny, delicate blossoms, and its cut allowed her to move with a comfortable ease, an elegance I did not possess. In stark contrast, my own dress was as white as freshly fallen snow, its design an unfortunate echo of the one I had planned for my wedding. The lace of my sleeves was gone, replaced by a simple, unadorned silk that felt both a comfort and a rebuke.

A traitorous tear escaped my eye, and I quickly wiped it away, but Rowena had already seen. "What troubles you, my friend?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.

I shook my head, feigning nonchalance. "It is naught but a speck of dust in the air. My throat is a bit raw from the cold." My voice was a hoarse whisper. Rowena's brows furrowed. "You must drink some water, Carolina. Your voice is not your own."

"There is no time," I insisted, taking her hand. "My father will be vexed if we are late." Her hand was cold as stone, a stark contrast to the warmth of my own. I dismissed it as a product of the chill night air as we walked toward the waiting carriage. My father, in his continued mistrust, had insisted upon a separate conveyance for me and my guest, a small but sharp reminder of the recent disquiet in our family.

The journey was a long one, a testament to my grandmother's distant estate in the South. The train carried us through the night, a long, mournful sound cutting through the quiet. By the time we arrived, the palace was a beacon of light against the darkened horizon. Its stones were a deep, rich blue, and the windows glowed with the warm light of a thousand candles.

~

I set the book I had been reading on the carriage seat beside me, my hands trembling slightly as one of our footmen opened the door. He offered his hand, and I took it, my every step cautious. I was terrified of falling, of embarrassing myself before this sea of people. I felt a sudden surge of self-doubt. Was Harry right? Was I the cause of all this chaos? Was I truly a perfectionist, just like my father?

A hand rested on my shoulder, and I turned to see Rowena, a gentle smile on her lips. "Your mother asked me to stay by your side," she whispered.

I nodded. "Very well. Let us meet my grandmother."

Two grand doors opened, revealing a ballroom of breathtaking opulence. As we began our descent down the sweeping staircase, a man in my grandmother's livery struck the carpet with a long cane, the loud thud silencing the room.

"Princess Carolina Evangeline Bennett of the North has arrived," he announced in a booming voice.

I offered a sweet smile, my lips stretched in a pose of grace, and mouthed a silent "thank you." As applause filled the air, I began my descent, Rowena a stiff presence at my side. I noticed her nervousness. "Do not worry, my dear," I whispered, "they will soon return to their own affairs."

I searched the crowd for Harry, a sense of quiet desperation in my chest. He was not there, nor were his friends. A terrible thought crept into my mind: had he refused to come? Had he finally grown tired of our verbal battles? Had he ceased to love me?

A sudden, sharp pain seized my chest, stealing my breath. My hands flew to Rowena's. "Carolina, are you well?" she asked, her voice filled with a genuine concern. We quickly moved into a dark corner, away from the prying eyes of the guests. I gasped for air, but none would come. The pain was not in my lungs, but in my heart. Tears welled up and ran down my face. My body shook with a profound sadness.