The King's Cursed Bride

His Betrothed

Author's Note: Should you be interested in joining the Watt We're Reading Wattpad book club (which you should totally do; just sayin'), please check out the above video and start reading next month's book, so you can join in on the discussion! ;)

And this chapter is dedicated to the lovely Hannahdoom. I've so enjoyed reading her comments, all the way from when I started chapter one. As you guys have probably noticed, I'm starting with those who have stuck with this book for a while. Writing is hard, but my little crew of dedicated commenters pushed me onward and made writing the chapters of this story some of the highlights of my week, so thank you, Hannah 💖

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Though the pace was slow, each of the horse's plodding steps jarred, rattling her teeth. She forced her pained breaths to slow, determined not to faint before arriving at the embassy, though Elon had assured her she could have a sleeping draught. She didn't want to miss a single moment she spent in his arms.

Elon cupped her unmarred cheek. "I'm sorry, Carissa. We're well over half way there."

She opened her eyes. Sunlight plunged into them, injecting her skull with pure pain. After her time in the jailhouse, daylight was nearly unbearable. As her eyes adjusted, Elon's face came into focus.

His expression was tight with concern, but his smile was genuine.

She blinked and glanced at the streets. Crowds lined the road, as if watching a parade. No doubt they were curious as to why their King held a filthy waif. And then her veins turned to ice.

A woman peered out from a second story window, her expression twisted in a snarl, her golden hair flowing down her shoulders like liquid sunlight. Even across the street, Carissa could see the chilling color of her eyes: an unnaturally dark blue, the color of the sky after the sunset and before the stars rose.

Akasha.

Carissa pressed a palm against Elon's chest and gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Elon—"

"I know."

Carissa blinked. "You know? You know that she's..."

He bent close. "The Reaper? Yes."

Her breath stuttered in her chest. "For how long? And why aren't you ordering your men to kill her?"

"That's not for them to do." He glanced down at her, his brown eyes locking with hers.

Her eyebrows arched. "Me? I'm no warrior."

"You are."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Frowned. Hopefully she'd made the right decision in agreeing to marry him... But who would send their bride off to kill an assassin?

Elon followed the curve of her brow with his fingers. "Allow me to worry about the future, Carissa."

She swallowed her misgivings and nodded. Elon had foresight; she didn't. It made sense to let him plan what was ahead... but hadn't he also known about all of the terrible things that would happen to her? Was he going to let more bad things happen to her?

She rested her head beneath the hollow of his shoulder. She was his bride now. Of course he wouldn't.

Finally, Elon tugged on the reins, and the horse halted. He handed her to one of his knights, dismounted, and carried her in his arms once more.

A tickle squirmed up her throat, and she suppressed a cough. She didn't want to splatter blood on his doublet. Instead, she focused on her breathing, pain-ridden though it was. How was she even going to stand for the wedding? Or endure the scrubbing it'd require to clean her skin? Or survive being laced up in a dress? As it was, she could barely move.

"I feel sorry for whatever ladies will be charged with preparing me for the wedding." She swallowed, ignoring the burn in her throat as the raspy words scritched past.

"There won't be any preparation, Carissa, and you're beautiful as is."

A laugh burst from her, knifed through her chest. She sucked in a ragged breath and pressed her hand to her chest, attempting to staunch the gush of pain. "You needn't lie, Elon."

His dark brows arched. "It was no falsehood that passed my lips. Only truth." A smile snuck across his lips.

Somehow, she believed him. It was curious: eventually Viltus had seen naught but her scarring, while Elon seemed to see past it. Viltus saw her curse; Elon saw her. Elon halted in front of an enormous pair of doors, inlaid with tendrils of gold. The tops of the doors rose above them, as high as treetops.

"Where are we?"

"It's a ceremonial hall, but it will suit our purposes."

She blinked. "You mean a wedding?"

He nodded.

"Now?"

"When did you expect it to take place?"

"I–I don't know. Not this soon. Weddings require preparation, don't they?"

"I have prepared; I summoned a trusted noble to witness our wedding."

He wanted to marry her—immediately. This was good, wasn't it? But who would want to get married the day they'd met? After all, she'd never even written him back. He knew her even less than she knew him. Surely he'd be hesitant about so quick a wedding... Unless there was another reason he wanted to marry her, an ulterior motive.

She glanced at Elon and caught her breath. His gaze was steadily fixed on her. She hoped her expression hadn't revealed her thoughts.

His sigh ended in a smile, though it seemed dimmer than his previous ones. "You don't love me very much, do you?"

Surprise jolted through her, and her mouth fell open. "I... Why ever would you think that?"

"Because with love comes trust, and you have none. Not where I'm concerned."

She curled her arms around herself, and she dipped her head, wishing she could sink into the floor. She regretted that his words rang true—after all, he had saved her despite her betrayal and kissed her despite her filth—but, then again... "I barely know you. How am I supposed to trust you?"

"In time, you'll come to trust me, and you'll learn to love me more, though," his smile resurfaced, "perhaps not as well as I do you."

She huffed. "You think I'm not as capable of love as you are?"

Elon shrugged. "Among Foresight, one of the other gifts granted to the Kings of Nysia is the ability to love deeply, more so than is possible for others." He nodded towards the doors. "When you're ready, Carissa."

She drew in a shuddering breath. "Why now? Why so suddenly?"

"To help with your curse. I'm strong enough to manage its effects. You alone are not. And," his arms tightened around her, drawing her close, "if you regret that we won't have a longer courtship, fear not. I vow to spend the rest of our marriage courting you."

At his words, her heart tripped over itself.

He'd waited for her. He'd forgiven her. He'd loved her. Though she might not have learned to trust and love back as she should, never would she find a better husband.

She wound her arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm ready, ready to become your bride instead of merely your betrothed."

***

Author's Note: You can find the sneak peek in the external link below or on my profile :)