Cursed Without A Crown

09 | The Jingles

THE GREAT HALL

Naomi refused to look away. She would not divert her gaze until the bloody buffoon made eye contact with her.

From where he sat at ease on the other side of the aisle, positioned behind his family on the second row, Naomi could almost murder the stupid giant.

Under normal circumstances, she would've been distracted and awed by the clear distinction of the Great Hall from its previous appearance, appreciating the talents of the magic bearers behind such intricate designing.

From the brief appraisal she'd given the room, Naomi noted that the walls still shone with a dashing shade of Oroden's signature element. But by some obvious magic trick, they seemed wider apart and taller, creating more room for the many noble wizards and witches of Oroden—and the few noble dragonlords invited from Drakonwell—to perch comfortably on the undeniably cosy-cushioned chairs.

To add to its beauty, a silver and gold assortment of hanging miniature griffins and dragons swung gently from the large ceiling, depicting the would-be unity of the two magic bearers already bound by contract.

Said magic bearers were currently kneeling side-by-side at the base of the ridiculously polished dais, their wrists fastened together with a thick, nuptial chain that was sealed by an Oroden Schadraek; a magic bearer blessed with the ability to communicate directly with the Supreme.

This particular Schadraek, as opposed to the others in the various kingdoms, was swathed purely in gold and guarded by two adult griffins that stood stoic behind him on the dais. Their powerful wings remained tucked at their sides as they eyed their master while he recited the significance of marital bonds.

Or at least, that was what she imagined he was talking about. Naomi could vaguely comprehend the words that spewed out of the Schadraek's mouth, nor was she interested.

However, she supposed it would have been fitting that, at least, if not the dreadfully boring ceremony, the stunning view of the keenly decorated Great Hall would have succeeded in capturing Naomi's eye.

Unfortunately, all the anxious Shade could think about, all that had been running amok in her actively wired brain from the moment she had awoken from sleep, was how much she craved an answer from the bastard prince.

The same half-Shade who ignored her from where he sat, subtly flirting with whoever the wart-face she was.

Naomi narrowed her eyes at them as she silently fumed.

He seemed to be immensely enjoying himself because he hadn't once bothered to make eye contact with her. But without a doubt, she knew for certain that he was aware of her sights readily fastened on him.

Oh, he did indeed, which made her seethe all the more.

Naomi did not have the patience to dawdle with the bastard prince. Time was running out, and aside from her bottom prickling in protest, she couldn't stand to be disregarded anymore.

This ends now, she decided, wrinkling her nose in determination. Time for Plan B.

Clutching the small water pouch filled with molten black juice at the base of her abdomen and hidden beneath the folds of her beige-coloured gown, Naomi trod heavily on her frustrations and forced herself to breathe smoothly.

She only needed to cause a distraction. A meticulously planned distraction that would definitely gather his attention—and probably that of the others as well—in order to drag him from the room.

So, entirely confident that her plan would pan out perfectly, Naomi took in a deep breath, shut her eyes, and began her ploy with a loud wheeze.

"The Supreme help me!"