Marrok had slept alone. In all honesty, he was glad that he was able to have any time for himself after the boisterous wedding reception. Every member of court had been in attendance! And although Marrok was ready to retire for bed as early as ten o'clock, he was urged to stay until every last courtier either left or was carried out in a drunken stupor. James, oddly enough, had managed to remain half-sober throughout the event, and so Marrok spent the majority of the evening with him instead of his bride.
Jannali herself was the star of the show. If anyone had found her introverted tendencies odd before, they were confused beyond reason as she danced the night away, flirting with every man that made conversation. It was the most Marrok had seen of her since they first met, and he just wound up feeling uncomfortable and confused. Her kiss at the ceremony had been a brutal wake-up call. At the time, Marrok couldn't seem to explain the fear that curdled his blood, but he was all-too willing to avoid the new Princess Jannali.
After everyone had left, the party was dismissed and Marrok slumped down on his bed, exhausted. His maids offered to help him undress, but he waved them away and shrugged off his coat with a face. He had been sweltering beneath the suffocating velvet. He took off his shoes, and, too tired to do much else, he crawled beneath the blankets and fell asleep in his chemise and dress pants.
He had expected to be woken up within the hour and joined by his new wife so that they may consummate their marriage, as was custom. But Jannali had not shown up, which suited Marrok just fine. He was in no mood to partake in such activities, and certainly not with her. Despite her festive cheer at the reception, she had excused herself from the party two hours before anyone else even began to become tipsy. Marrok wondered with a sneer if she was as boring in bed as she was in public.
He was given utmost liberty the next day, and he slept in well past two in the afternoon. The little time left that he had was devoted to studying over his father's memoirs, a book of lessons and rules that Marrok had gotten into the habit of studying once a month—as just a few extra precautions for when he would come to wear the crown.
Through his fatigue and headache, the endless scrawl of political and economic science made the prince want to bash his head against the wall. The desire only intensified when he was reminded that he was expected for dinner with his parents and Jannali.
He was back in a velvet coat at an ornate dining table, surrounded by roasted goose and sweet corn. He was normally quite fond of these dishes, but tonight, he had no appetite. Jannali sat across from him. Ever since their first meeting, she had obviously refined her glamour into something more typical of a princess—sharper features, longer hair, her eyes a deep royal purple, stunning and artificial. Her silver locks had been teased into large curls that resembled blooming roses. Although out of place on plain, boring Jannali, the hairstyle was much more subdued than the queen's braid, thick like a tree trunk and as long as her legs. An array of flowers replaced her silver crown.
"Tell me, Twinkles," said Aisha, glancing at her son. Marrok resisted the urge to groan. Even in private, he hated when she addressed him by her little pet name. It was cute when he was six, but he's a grown man now! She liked to say it was because his eyes twinkled when something caught his interest. "Was the party to your liking? I made sure that all the pieces played were compositions by Charolais. I know you prefer her over Lalji."
Marrok nodded. "I noticed. Thank you, Mother—and all my favorites, too."
Aisha beamed. "Yes, although I did include your father's little minuet..."
"Absolutely splendid," the king cut in, finishing off a chunk of meat. "You've outdone yourself, Dearest."
"And you, my dear daughter-in-law?" The queen turned to Jannali, who had regained her air of solitude and indifference. She had not looked up from her plate for the entire evening. Even now, she simply nodded as the queen asked her question after question, if she enjoyed the festivities and if not, what could be done for next time. Marrok sat back, irritated. His mother was much too kind.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Of My Blood
Fanfiction"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...
