Destined for the crown

Chapter 6

The day of the wedding arrived with a quiet storm inside Elara. As the morning sun rose over the kingdom, casting a warm golden glow over the palace grounds, she stood in front of her mirror, dressed in the exquisite bridal gown chosen for her. The gown was made of ivory silk, its intricate lace detailing woven with delicate silver threads that shimmered in the light. Her hair had been pinned up with small jewels and pearls, each piece carefully placed, as if she were a perfect sculpture being presented to the world.

But inside, she felt anything but perfect. Her heart raced beneath the layers of fabric, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling within her. This was the day she had been preparing for—her duty, her destiny. She was to marry Prince Alistair, sealing the alliance between their two kingdoms, solidifying her role as future queen. Yet the events of the past few weeks, the fire that had ignited between them, had changed everything.

The memory of their last conversation in the garden haunted her. They had agreed to pretend, to keep their distance, but the tension between them had only grown. And now, as she stood on the brink of their union, she wondered how long they could keep pretending.

Rosalind entered the room quietly, her expression soft as she approached. "You look breathtaking, Your Highness," she said, offering a small smile. "The kingdom will be in awe of their future queen."

Elara nodded, though her gaze remained distant. "Thank you, Rosalind."

Rosalind hesitated, sensing her unease. "It's natural to be nervous on a day like this," she said gently. "But you've always been strong, Elara. You will face whatever comes with grace and courage."

Elara forced a smile, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together. "Yes, I suppose I will."

The grand hall was filled with nobles, courtiers, and dignitaries from both kingdoms. The air was thick with expectation, the soft hum of whispered conversations buzzing like the sound of distant bees. Flowers adorned the aisles, and the ceiling was draped in shimmering silks, giving the entire room an otherworldly glow.

As the ceremony began, Elara walked down the aisle with steady grace, her heart hammering in her chest. Alistair stood at the altar, tall and composed, his expression unreadable behind the royal mask he wore so well. His dark eyes locked onto hers the moment she entered, and for a fleeting second, she saw something flicker there—something raw and unguarded.

The closer she came to him, the more her breath quickened, a familiar warmth spreading through her body despite her best efforts to remain calm. She reminded herself of her duty, the importance of this union, but as Alistair's gaze bore into hers, it became harder to think of anything else but the man standing before her.

When she reached him, the priest began the sacred vows, his deep voice echoing through the hall. Elara barely heard the words, her mind consumed by the closeness of Alistair, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of her awareness. His hand reached out for hers, the touch of his skin sending a jolt through her like it had so many times before.

"Do you, Alistair, take Elara to be your lawfully wedded wife, to honor and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Alistair's voice was steady but tinged with something deeper, something only she could hear. "I do."

"And do you, Elara, take Alistair to be your lawfully wedded husband, to honor and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

For a moment, the weight of her decision pressed down on her, the gravity of what this union truly meant. She glanced up at Alistair, seeing the tension in his jaw, the flicker of uncertainty behind his calm exterior.