Aureate Fates

23

         MY TERRIBLE, TREASONOUS HEART

                                        —ERIK—

Erik had traveled beyond the Levantica Trees on frequent occasions.

And he'd seen a plethora of beautiful women from every corner of the world. Lazy smiles, glass-like laughs, and soft touches. He'd take them to bed, then wash them off—without the courtesy provided by a second thought. 

And he'd thought it'd be easy to forget the beauty of any woman by taking another.

But, he was bone-crushingly wrong.

Erik stood at the dais, beside the throne, awaiting Marisol's anticipated arrival. The music heightened to a romantic tune; a few trumpets played. And the massive crowd seated at the pews rose in unison, to steal a look at their queen.

The fading light was bronze and warm as it glowed through the throne room's large windows. That same light seemed to fall seamlessly over Marisol's golden eyes and full, pink lips. Her brown hair fell over her straight shoulders in layers of immaculate waves.

"Wow," he heard a flabbergasted Reese say beside him, in formal attire. Erik sent him a glare.

Gasps settled over the room as they took her in, the glamour of her presence. She clutched a white bouquet in her powerful hands, where Erik noticed a slight tremor. She met his eyes, and it was then that he knew she was terrified.

But Marisol Rosaria, aflame with extraordinary beauty, lifted her chin and nodded at the council members as she passed them. Eugene quickly bowed, as Erik had told him to do. She walked with poise, like she always did. The type that was intimidating to anyone who didn't know her.

As she met the lip of the steps leading to the dais, she froze. Her gown trailed behind her and could trip her on the way up if she wasn't careful. Apparently, Delphinia didn't prepare her for something this technical.

Erik wanted to pierce the Oracle through the heart.

Before any of the guards could offer her their arm to mount the steps, Erik was at her side, offering his. Marisol's eyes sparkled with some sort of surprise, but she took his arm.

"Smile at me like you love me, dear," he muttered in her ear.

Marisol clenched her teeth. "Don't push your luck, Captain." She said it so very quietly.

Sounds of admiration bounced from one side of the room to the other. Delphinia beamed with pride—her show was being bought by the whole country. Believed and gushed over.

Thema joined them before the ornamented thrones, and sent an unreadable look towards Marisol before beginning. The girl addressed the crowd and spoke with lethal authority. High Priestess of Verskyia—she wore the name well.

"The death of the previous royal court struck Verskyia with heartache, but with the union between two blood-churners of the oldest blood, prosperity can be felt again on this soil," Thema said, her clear voice strong. "As it is Galvinus' will."

A whooping was heard from the crowd, a sound of pure patriotism.

Thema read a scripture out of the brown book she held. A religious telling of marriage. Before him, in her stainless white gown, Marisol bowed her head and closed her eyes, as if the story brought her a sense of comfort.