Lines of Violence

02

This chapter is dedicated to @cyberaf, _alexisxo_, @Nicolita_ and @madhubryluvs8  my first few voters. 

Thank you! x

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Those words could warm any heart as cold as ice. That is, if Gaspard had not spoken with such... enthusiasm (note the blatant sarcasm). Nevertheless whispers and giggles travelled around the hall, lashes fluttered and cheeks flushed behind gilded, paper fans. Leona did not turn to look at those naive, fawning girls. How she would've loved to nominate one of them to take her place... 

I come with a kingdom in my heart for you, he had said. Bah, what utter rubbish, Leona thought. He was a stranger. A  brute (she had heard of his reputation. Charming and pleasant, some called him. Others spoke of his cruelty and hollow chest). There was probably nothing in his heart but love for himself. 

She made him wait a moment, gaze burning before she stepped forward, offering her left wrist to him. "I accept," she simply said. Those two words cut through all the whispers, and cheers sounded when Gaspard took her slender wrist in his hand, murmuring a few words. She felt his magic jolt through her in that split second- and it felt like something wild, all dark colours and fiery sparks, like the curve of a knife and venom of a snake. And sure enough a mark branded her wrist. It was as she expected, the combined symbols of the Aelia snake and the Lang wolf, black in their colouring. The snake slithered around the wolf, and took its liberty to wrap itself around Leona's wrist. Akin to a bracelet, it felt like iron shackles. It felt like suffocation, this smothering of her will. 

She would not make this easy for him.

"I, Leona Lang of the Thirteenth, come to pledge our lives as one." It felt like she was signing her own death sentence. "Will you accept my mark?" 

Her heart thudded in her chest, sinking. It wasn't too late to back out now. He could refuse. Perhaps he had a lover at home he pined for... Perhaps he did not see the worth in this alliance. It wasn't too late... Yet she saw the almost imperceptible nod he gave her before he spoke, his declaration firm and clear. "I accept." Yet he did not offer her his wrist. It wasn't custom to have the bonding mark on the wrist (lovers usually decided together beforehand), but to Leona it felt impersonal enough. An ugly thought twisted in her mind and she reached up, pressing her hand against that impeccable black shirt, feeling warmth and hard muscles beneath her hand. She placed her fingers over his chest where his heart was, and murmured that fatal chant that bonded them. She gazed up at him, both knowing that her mark now branded his chest.  

She stepped away to stand by his side, the sapphires at her throat glinted in the light. The hall cheered, and Leona saw the satisfied look in her mother's eyes. As much as she hated her predicament there was good coming from it. Political advancement, security, and an abundance of wealth and resources that now joined the Fifth and the Thirteenth. She should wish all the best for her people. She should. 

Servants handed them champagne on silver platters, and Leona took the jewelled glass in hand. A toast was made by her father- "To happiness!" Glasses clinked and voices echoed in merriment. Magnificent flowers bloomed in the garden at the crowd's collective joy, magic seeping through all that breathed. Oh the irony of the moment. Leona merely took a sip while Gaspard downed his whole glass. 

She thought he would turn to her and request a moment alone to acquaint themselves. But no, he gestured to his posse in black and disappeared into the crowd as easy as shadows. 

She watched him go, and did not do a single thing to stop him. 

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