The Assassin and Her Prince

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter nineteen

Despite being hastily put together, the deep pockets of royalty and hundreds of servants at their disposal meant that their wedding ended up being one of the most glamorous events since King Harrow wed Lady Sarai.

With the combined efforts of elves and humans, preparations for the ceremony had gone without a hitch, yet Rayla feels no less anxious. Used to being in control, she feels at odds having been cut out of the decision-making process. Her maids hadn't even allowed her the privilege of dressing herself this morning, but that turned out to be a blessing in disguise as she reasons that they had given her a look more beautiful than she would've been able to achieve herself.

One of the few decisions that she had made completely unaided was her choice of dress; an exquisite, strapless, fishtail, ivory gown with a plunging neckline and a long, gossamer train flowing elegantly behind her. It shifts almost weightlessly around her ankles, contrasting where the sleek fabric of the dress clings tightly to her bust, highlighting her slim figure. The seamstress had followed her instructions perfectly in crafting this stunning bespoke dress and had turned her vision into a reality. Smoothing out imaginary wrinkles and twirling in front of her full-length mirror, she admires her reflection.

"Rayla, you look amazing!" Ellis squeals excitedly. She's wearing Rayla's chiffon veil and sits perched on the older girl's king-sized bed, plaiting Claudia's jet-black hair absentmindedly, occasionally stroking the large wolf lounging in the centre of the mattress.

Ellis and her family had arrived at the palace yesterday morning and ever since, the two had been inseparable, exchanging witty, teasing comments about the other's love life, resulting in Rayla's conclusive victory as she is the one getting married today. As for Claudia, she had been instantly enamoured with her majestic wolf, Ava, and made fast friends with Ellis, her fellow bridesmaid.

Both girls are wearing matching silver dresses paired with delicate flower wreaths cut from the same sparkling material.

Lifting the veil off of the youngest girl's head, Claudia glides towards the bride and fixes it into Rayla's snow-white hair. After tweaking her braids so that the veil rests neatly around her horns, she stands back and admires her handiwork.

"Perfect," she smiles, clasping her hands together.

A knock at her bedroom door tells the girls that they're out of time.

Ushering her out of the door, they pull her into a loving group hug, wishing her good luck. Claudia gently presses the bouquet of porcelain coloured carnations and hydrangeas into Rayla's hands and whispers softly in her ear.

"Don't keep him waiting!"

-TDP-

General Amaya made Callum promise that he would stick to tradition and not turn around. As a man of his word, he doesn't. Not even as the string orchestra starts playing the traditional tune. Not even when he hears gasps of delight as everybody but him takes in Rayla's beauty. In fact, the moment she joins him at the altar is the first time he's laid eyes on her all day.

They'd chosen to hold the ceremony in the floral garden where they'd shared their first kiss, confessing their love for one another. In the past fortnight, it had undergone drastic changes, being transformed from the quiet, secluded garden into a suitable venue, able to accommodate almost one hundred guests. Rows of chairs are placed neatly in front of the bandstand that now serves as the altar, forming the aisle in the gap between. It looks perfect; naturally simplistic. Enhanced by the pinkish glow of the setting sun.

Callum had only been able to watch his aunt's face change, trying to decipher her expression as the wedding unfolds behind him, but when he receives a subtle nod from Amaya, he turns to face his bride.

She's breath-taking. There are no words to describe her beauty; she looks like an angel - his angel. Enraptured, he's unsure how he managed to pay any attention to the ceremony, only managing to truly focus when she makes her vows.

"As a Moonshadow elf, the full moon brings me great power. Yet, that's not when I feel at my most powerful," her words have been carefully selected so that she can say this eloquently. "I feel strongest when I'm with you, Cal."

His words die in his mouth. How can he even begin to follow such a wonderful sentiment?

He takes a deep breath and pours his heart out in his words. "I love you. I love everything about you. You're my other half; you're my best friend and I'm so lucky to have met you."

It's too generic, and his love for her is anything but.

There's more he needs to say, but he doesn't know how. Suddenly, inspiration strikes and he knows how to finish.

"From the moment we met, you made me feel different; like I actually mattered. So I want to make you feel the same, every day for the rest of my life," he improvises, finally being able to put his feelings into words.

General Amaya, who is officiating the wedding, snaps Commander Gren back into action as she begins signing.

"You may now kiss the bride," Gren smiles gleefully, this time being the one to send Amaya an approving look, admitting that her crazy plan was somehow a complete success.

On the Commander's cue, Rayla tosses her bouquet into the crowd, freeing her arms to wrap around her husband's neck. She doesn't even watch to see the flowers plop into Ellis' empty lap, who makes the mistake of looking to Ez, causing a crimson blush to spread across both their faces.

With a grin, Callum dips her into a low kiss, his strong arms supporting her, his hand gripping the silky material of the dress at the small of her back. His lips are warm and soft against hers and the kiss grows deeper and more loving with every passing second. Her eyes are shut and she loses herself in the moment, oblivious to the silver band turning scarlet, unbinding her and floating away; caught in the current of the wind.

The End

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that chapter and if you did, don't be a silent reader! Thanks to my beta midnightpansy! One more part to come . . .

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