Legacy of Fire and Sand

Chapter 56: The Wedding Day

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and cold, the sun's rays piercing through the frost-covered windows of the castle. The air was thick with anticipation, every corner of the palace bustling with activity. Servants rushed to and fro, carrying trays of food, jugs of wine, and bundles of rich fabrics to dress the nobles in their finest. The scent of roses and spices filled the halls, mingling with the sound of hurried footsteps and the distant echoes of laughter from the guests.

In the Royal Gardens, the wedding preparations were in full swing. Tables draped in shimmering gold cloth were being set with the finest silverware, while garlands of white and crimson roses were strung between the trees, their petals fluttering in the breeze like drops of blood. The nobles gathered in small groups, gossiping in hushed tones about the day's events, their faces alight with excitement.

But within the walls of the castle, a different kind of tension brewed.

Ashara stood before the mirror in her chambers, her body wrapped in a robe of deep crimson silk, her hair cascading down her back in loose waves. Her hands shook as she gripped the edge of the vanity, her reflection staring back at her with hollow eyes. She had not slept. How could she, after the horrors of the night before? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, felt his hands on her body, heard his cruel voice in her ears.

The King's brutal assault had left her scarred and empty, a hollow shell of the woman she once was. But the weight she carried now was not just the trauma of the attack—it was the uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. A seed had been planted in her womb, but whose was it?

Was it the child of Valen, who had shown her a tenderness she had never known before? Or was it Kellen's, the warrior whose possessive touch still haunted her? The timing was cruel, the encounters so close together that she could not be certain.

The thought twisted her stomach in knots, the uncertainty adding another layer of torment to her already battered soul. She wanted to scream, to rip the skin from her bones and tear her hair from her scalp. But she could not afford to break down, not now. The King had taken everything from her, but he would not take her spirit. She would endure this day, as she had endured all the others, and she would find a way to reclaim her life.

Ashara's reverie was broken by a soft knock on the door. It was Elara, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and quiet strength. She had noticed the changes in Ashara, the morning sickness, the slight roundness to her belly that she had tried to hide. Elara had not said anything outright, but her gentle touches and knowing looks spoke volumes.

"You look beautiful," Elara whispered as she stepped into the room, her fingers brushing Ashara's cheek. There was a tenderness in her touch that made Ashara's heart ache, a reminder of the warmth she had found in Valen and Elara's embrace.

Ashara forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's just for show," she replied, her voice hollow. "I feel anything but beautiful."

Elara's gaze softened, and she wrapped her arms around Ashara, pulling her close. "You're strong, Ashara. Stronger than you know. Whatever happens today, remember that."

Ashara nodded, resting her head against Elara's shoulder. For a moment, she allowed herself to find solace in Elara's embrace, to forget the darkness that loomed over her.

But the moment was fleeting. The door to the chamber creaked open once more, and Ashara stiffened as she saw Quentyn and Nymeria standing in the doorway. Their faces were unreadable, their eyes locked on her with a mix of longing and regret.

"Ashara," Quentyn began, his voice strained. "May we speak with you?"

Ashara's heart raced, her mind flashing back to their last encounter. The anger, the accusations, the hurt that had driven a wedge between them. But there was something different in their eyes now, something that mirrored the turmoil she felt inside.