The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 17

The towering stone walls of the palace were draped in velvets of deep maroon and gold, setting the stage for the magnificent celebration. Glistening torches lined the path leading to the entrance, their flickering flames casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to beckon all who approached. The palace's facade was adorned with garlands of ivy and roses, their fragrance filling the night air and adding a touch of nature's beauty to the regal setting.

The grand ballroom of the royal palace was adorned with a breathtaking tapestry of colors and an air of anticipation hung like a delicate veil over the room, as if the room itself knew this night would be etched in history. Long tables displayed a sumptuous feast. Goblets of the finest wine sparkled in the candlelight, and the aroma of roasted meats and fragrant spices wafted about.

Dressed in opulent attire, the ladies wore exquisite gowns adorned with silks and lace, their corsets embellished with pearls and gems that shimmered like the stars in the night sky. The gentlemen were equally resplendent in doublets and breeches of rich velvets, their rapiers at their sides.

With another poppy pastille down, along with a cup of steaming hot wine, Will did his best to find his strength. His shoulders shifted under the weight of the cloak slung over them that bore his family's coat of arms. He stood like a shining beacon to the others in the room. His silver lace lined tunic, velvet and fur cloak and polished crown would lend him as an easy target to any stray arrow if anyone so wished to do him harm.

At the center of the grand hall, beneath a canopy of ivory and gold, stood the young princess, the reason for this grand gathering. Margot, with her brunette tresses cascading in loose waves and a gown of resplendent green satin, embodied the essence of timeless beauty.

From where Will stood beside his father's throne, he could see the entire room and found himself only able to stare at the princess who was happily speaking to Beverly who was donned in her own gown of splendid red ochre.

"You appear quite taken with her." Will didn't spare a glance to his father who sat tall in his throne, people watching as he normally did. The social interaction had ceased when Theophania had passed away, a coldness settling over any sort of occasion.

"She is sharp-witted and a pleasure to converse with," Will said dully. He cleared his throat as a cough dared to creep up and his hand took the side of the throne for balance. He had been doing well the whole day and his resolve to make it through this evening in one piece would stay strong. "She is a means to an end. Nothing more and nothing less."

"William, I feel I must impress upon you the importance of tonight."

"Your first attempt at fatherly advice. How thoughtful. I fear you might be a few years too late."

"If this arrangement falls through, our kingdom will be plunged into a war the likes that you could never fathom. This war will not be simple like Spain's was."

"I don't think I found Spain's war to be simple or Spain's fault. Nor does this sound like you."

"You could expect to find yourself on the front lines if this marriage does not take. Do I make myself clear?"

Will closed his eyes tightly for a moment, doing his best to block out the noise around him. The music and the chatter were becoming overwhelming as the weight of this moment bore down on his already heavy shoulders.

"The front lines would be preferable to this." Will pushed himself off the throne, but his wrist was snatched up in a grip horribly similar to Mason's. Will didn't turn back though. He kept his eyes firmly on the party ahead of him. "Release me."