"We should go out," said James for the umpteenth time, waving his quill around like a magic wand.
"Put that thing down; you'll stain the upholstery." Marrok crossed his legs. The light in his chambers had been turned low, by his request. After a whole day of suit fittings and final wedding preparations, Marrok had no desire to go and sit by while James got smashed with a lady of a lower house that just so happened to be at the same bar. Besides, it was never wise to go and get drunk on the eve of a royal wedding.
It was all the servants had talked about as they milled about the palace. The queen was particularly excited for this event, if her devotion and careful planning was any indication. She had even been present at Marrok's final fitting, dressed in her own attire for the reception that would follow the wedding itself. The style, of course, was all her own; her red hair had been teased up in an elaborate updo reminiscent of the French royalty back in ancient times. With the roses, she reminded Marrok of the queen who had been guillotined during the revolution. Aisha had a particular fondness for the exuberant lifestyle of Marie-Antoinette.
"I do not wish to leave the palace tonight," said Marrok.
"Why not? If I were you, I'd take the time to relish in my last night of single life."
"You're acting as if this changes anything. Just because I'm married doesn't mean that my loyalty lies with my wife." The prince shrugged. "And with a bride like Jannali, I'll have a mistress within the next week, just you watch."
Marrok didn't really mean this. He had much more pressing matters on his mind than who was going to warm his bed at night, with his father discussing the idea of having Marrok rule in the king's council in preparation for when he himself would become Luna's sovereign. A mistress would have wait at least a month or so.
"So. You coming or not?"
Marrok smiled. "Go home, James."
Cynthia had roused Jannali at the crack of dawn, and she was run through the most vigorous bath that she had endured in a while. Her skin was tingly and red all over as the maids pulled at her hair and twisted it into tight curls. Jannali tried to complain; what was the point of going through this nonsense when she could very easily glamour her hair into a silver masterpiece? She was quickly silenced as her corset was tightened around her, and she instead managed a wheeze. Her anger was apparent to all who attended to her, especially Lady Hortense, her new mistress of the household. Jannali had disliked her immediately, and came to call her 'Madame Etiquette'.
"My Lady, you mustn't slouch. We can't fit you properly into your gown the way you stand," said Madame Etiquette.
Jannali pursed her lips. She was being difficult on purpose! From the beginning, she had made no secret of her distaste for her wedding gown, a hideous poufy thing that blended with the white skin of her glamour. From the neckline to her waist there was an ocean of lace, and ribbons had been stitched on every available surface. She felt like a cake topper, and rather wished that she could attend the ceremony naked.
She was told to smile. This is your wedding day. Shouldn't you be elated, Milady?
But smiling was the last thing Jannali wanted to do. The night before had been devoted to a good prospect. A bachelorette party of sorts, she had mused. Because of this, she had not returned home until the small hours of the night, and she was certain that there was evidence of her sleep deprivation beneath her glamour. Crabby was the word one would use to describe her—every movement was rough and screamed of annoyance. She had no appreciation for weddings, and her own was no exception. No, but she looked forward to after, when she and the prince were wed.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Of My Blood
Fanfic"Her parents were married, but that had seemed to create no great affection between them, and what was a wife in a world in which mistresses were as common as servants, and monogamy as rare as an Earthen eclipse?" Between a throne, two children, and...
