The day of the Baccarat wedding at Andalusia finally arrived. Marcus woke up that morning with his insides tied up in knots.
Today was his last chance to rescue Nana Imara.
As Marcus stood patiently on a stool while his tailors fitted the formal outfit around his body, he silently cursed to himself.
The people who made up the core of the Mage Elites were idiot sheep that he had to pamper and placate. Normally, he didn't mind placating and pampering them because that was part of his job as one of the heads of states.
Marcus narrowed his gaze.
This was different. This was personal.
Everyone knew Prince Gabriel's true loves were the two Francesca twins and that they were supposed to have been married a week ago.
Unfortunately, their engagement gala and subsequent wedding had been subverted by the ultra-conservative group of Mage Elites.
The idiots.
