Vows Beneath Storm Clouds
He swept her into his arms as though carrying her across the nave. Talia’s lips, raw from biting, parted in a faint tremor. Do you truly intend to marry me like this? Truly? The question rose to her tongue, only to die unspoken. His words were right. They had come too far to turn back now.
Her gaze drifted downward, sweeping over the guests who filled the nave to bursting. In eyes still glistening with unshed tears, countless faces swam into view: the Empress’s inner circle, high-ranking officials, and nobles from every great house. Powerful figures she knew by reputation watched in silence, their attention fixed upon the couple at the crossing.
She understood at last why Barcas had not abandoned the ceremony and fled. Even the heir to the Grand Duchy could not shatter an imperial wedding before so many assembled nobles.
“The rite will begin shortly. Bride and groom, please proceed to the waiting seats.”
When they reached the crossing, the waiting priest spoke with careful deference. Barcas followed at once, guiding them toward the seats beside the altar. Talia limped after him, her steps unsteady, her eyes darting ceaselessly. Through the fog of her vision, faces drifted past—expressions alight with the eager anticipation of spectators at a play. Those cold, ashen countenances seemed to mock her in unison.
“Does your leg pain you?”
Barcas had noticed the sudden rigidity in her body. One hand rose to cradle her chin as he asked the question. Talia stared at him blankly. His thumb brushed lightly across her damp lashes, the touch so gentle it made her wonder whether all of this was merely an illusion spun by the sleeping draught.
He held her gaze, his voice low. “Endure a little longer. Once the ceremony ends, I will see that you may rest.”
The coaxing tone tightened her throat. He was only doing this because he feared she might cause a scene before so many witnesses. He was simply soothing her to keep her from throwing a tantrum. She repeated the thought like a mantra, struggling to still her racing heart, when a voice she had never expected to hear in this place cut through the air.
“I cannot bear to watch. Anyone would think this marriage is one of joy.”
Talia stiffened, shoulders locking. Slowly she turned her head. Gareth, clad in a crimson doublet, was crossing the nave with five or six royal guards in tow. For an instant, the blood in her veins seemed to freeze.
“Why the long face when your own brother has come to offer congratulations?”
Gareth halted before her, his mouth twisted in a sneer. Talia looked up at him with eyes full of dread. Perhaps it pleased him to see his illegitimate half-sister, who had always provoked him, now pale and speechless. A sly smile flickered across his rough features. He leaned down, his whisper cold as winter wind.
“You’ve traded one lame leg for the title of Grand Duchess. You ought to smile.”
Talia glared at him, her face rigid. In any other moment she would have raked her nails across that smug countenance, yet now her lips refused to move. Her already clouded mind had simply ceased to function at the shock of his sudden appearance. She could only stand there, eyelids trembling like someone confronting a nightmare, until her head was abruptly wrenched aside.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
Barcas had pulled her face against his chest, his words a warning. “If you have come as a guest, observe the proper decorum. Must you stir trouble on the day of an old friend’s wedding?”
A heavy silence pressed down upon them. Talia kept her forehead buried in his formal attire, swallowing dryly. She could not understand why Barcas was shielding her from Gareth. It should have been the other way around; protecting Gareth and Ayla from the vicious bastard had always been his duty.
“No need to bristle. So long as you keep your promise, I shall keep mine.”
Gareth’s icy voice drifted from behind her. She longed to turn and read his expression, but the hand holding her head made movement impossible. Barcas’s arm tightened around her waist, his tone frigid.
“If you intend to watch the ceremony, take your seat.”
The sound of grinding teeth reached her ears, followed by the fading footsteps of Gareth and his guards. Only then did Barcas release his grip. Talia twisted her head to watch Gareth’s retreating back as he made his way toward the seats of honor. When he sat, the elderly noble beside him leaned over to speak. Recognizing the Marquis of Oristein required no great effort. Had the two of them arranged something beforehand?
Talia’s eyes narrowed. Then realization struck: a great many of the nobles filling the nave were conservative lords who supported the Crown Prince. Her eyes widened. What, exactly, was unfolding here?
Confusion etched across her face as she scanned the chapel, only for a strong hand to pull her head back once more.
“You need think of nothing.”
Ice-blue eyes locked her gaze in place. “After today, these are faces you will never see again. Do not waste your attention on them.”
He spoke as though engraving the words into her mind, then turned without hesitation and walked toward the altar. Talia followed, half-dragged, her split lips caught between her teeth. Barcas did not seem particularly surprised by the situation. His calm reaction began, little by little, to untangle the knot of confusion in her thoughts.
Perhaps Gareth had come to demonstrate to everyone that this marriage had not driven a wedge between himself and the House of Seorkan. And Barcas had agreed to that display. From the beginning, this wedding had been nothing more than a play staged by the Emperor’s demand, Barcas’s sense of duty, and her own thirst for revenge. He was still on Gareth and Ayla’s side.
“His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and Her Imperial Majesty the Empress have arrived!”
A resonant voice echoed from the stairs leading to the high seats. Talia tore her gaze from Barcas and looked upward. The Emperor and Empress moved with regal grace toward the thrones on the second level. They looked like the true protagonists of this stage.
Talia studied the Emperor’s stern majesty for a moment before her eyes shifted to Senebier standing at his side. The Empress radiated her usual dazzling brilliance. Golden hair like molten gold, exquisitely balanced features, a body of perfect, sensual curves… The beauty Talia had once believed she might one day claim now stabbed at her retinas like needles.
“We shall now commence the ceremony.”
Once the Emperor and Empress had taken their thrones, the high priest ascended the altar and cried out in a solemn voice. Led by Barcas’s hand, Talia stepped forward. Behind the priest’s deeply lined, dignified face, the black sky heavy with rain loomed. The priest, clouds at his back, began to recite the ancient scripture.
Everything felt like a grotesque farce: Senebier’s ambiguous smile, the Emperor’s visible discomfort, the priest intoning formal blessings, and the guests watching the hollow ritual with cold, mocking eyes.
“Barcas Laedgo Seorkan, do you swear to take Talia Roem Guerta as your wife and remain at her side for the rest of your days?”
After reading the long scripture, the priest posed the final question. Talia kept her eyes fixed on the floor, wetting her parched lips. Several seconds of silence passed before he answered.
“I do.”
The reply was so dry it sounded almost indifferent. The priest turned the same question to her.
“Talia Roem Guerta, do you swear to take Barcas Laedgo Seorkan as your husband and remain at his side for the rest of your days?”
Talia lifted her clouded eyes to the priest’s face. She had wanted to answer as carelessly as Barcas had, yet only a strangled, wheezing breath escaped her. As her silence stretched, the hand at her waist tightened. She turned to look at him. Blue eyes urged her silently to answer. There was no desire to prolong this moment; the resolute gaze pushed her until, at last, a single word tore free.
“……I do.”
“In the name of God and His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, I declare that these two are now lawfully wed.”
The priest’s flat voice delivered the final line of the rite.
“Now, let the couple prove their union with a kiss.”