1.2 CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE DE SERIN DAUGHTERS
As his eyes adjusted to the dim, he realized the figure in front of him was no stranger.
It was his bride.
Karme de Serin was crying.
He suspected that the lady of the de Serin opposed the wedding that had taken place from her expressions and actions during the ceremony. She had never seen him before. Not even during the preparation for their wedding. The first time they talked to each other was when they stood in front of the church doors. Even then, she had barely spoken a word.
The rumors that Karme de Serin was so loved by the duke that he was unwilling to share her with the world seemed untrue for Lucian at the moment. After all—for a daughter you love so much to be so against her marriage to cry on her wedding day, one would think the duke would take his proposal back from Lucian.
The knight commander clenched his hands tightly as an urge to pick her up and take her away gnawed at him. He knew he could not do it. Despite now being his wife, the woman was undeniably afraid of him. He closed his eyes as his throat felt dry. Gulping down air, he turned and walked away from her.
Unbeknownst to him, Karme de Serin heard him leaving as the leaves softly crunched beneath his heavy boots. She looked up from her hunched-over state to see the back of her husband's figure walking away from her.
Lucian returned to the grand hall, where the celebration was still at its peak. He could see the members of his orders merrily laughing and joking. He took a deep breath and steeled his expression once more. He was not used to showing his inner feelings. Most certainly not to his peers and comrades.
As he walked towards them, the eldest of the de Serin stepped in front of him with a smile. He looked down at her, his eyes unfriendly. But the woman in front of him seemed unfazed as she stepped closer. His brows furrowed as he stepped back away from her.
If he had not, she would be flushed against him.
Her crimson ringlets fell behind her like waves. Her orbs, a shade lighter than her sister's, were calculating and cold—so much alike the duke's. Two beauty marks adorned her cheek just below her left eye.
"What is it that you want, lady de Serin?" Lucian inquired just to have it get done with.
Krianna gave him a provocative smile as she raised a finger and ran it down the length of Lucian's jawline. The knight commander had not appreciated the action as he gripped the lady's wrist and pulled her hand away from his face.
"Ow,' Krianna cried under her breath, massaging the wrist Lucian had gripped.
Lucian's eyes furrowed at the fragile wrist in front of him, and saw how it was slowly bruising. He then looked up at the lady in front of him straight in the eyes, his expression unchanging.
"Forgive me, my lady, if I had used too much force," he started, but his face showed nothing of guilt. "What you have done was unbecoming. I am married to your sister," Lucian added, emphasizing the words 'married' and 'sister.'
The angelic expression on Krianna de Serin's face vanished. In its place was only coldness and callousness. It was a completely different expression from the one she had been showing the guests.
"But you don't actually love her, do you?" she asked, her voice low only he could hear.
His expression darkened but escaped the lady's notice as she continued to speak.
"You have never seen each other before today. Nor have you spoken to each other by letter. I am sure my sister would not mind. . . Maybe. . . Sharing you with me?"
"How could you say that to the husband of your only sister?" Lucian asked, unable to believe the words he was hearing. "Is this how nobles act?"
Krianna let out a soft laugh. Lucian knew she was trying to be demure—all her actions, the wave of her hands, the sound of her voice, and the way she fluttered her eyelids at him. Lucian was no fool when it came to women. He knew she was trying to entice him. But he remained unfazed.
"Noble or not," Krianna started, stepping into Lucian's space. With every step she took towards him, Lucian would step back away. "When I want something, I take it,"
The knight commander cleared his throat as he pushed her away from him gently but obviously. Krianna's confidence faltered as her eyes dropped to the hand Lucian had used to put distance between them.
"Whether I love my bride or not, she is still my bride. I swore to her my faithfulness and fidelity," Lucian answered—his voice firm and unyielding.
And without waiting for an answer, he stepped back away from her. He bowed his head, silently telling her their conversation was over whether she wanted to or not. Without looking back, he walked towards his knights, leaving her stupefied on her feet.
"What was that about?" Uli asked in a whisper as Lucian neared them.
"Nothing," came the gruff response from the commander as he picked up a mug of booze and drank it in one gulp.
Uli shrugged as he refilled the mug his commander was holding. "You know it's eerie how those two de Serin ladies looked exactly like one another,"
Lucian turned to his friend with a confused look. "No, they don't. They do not look alike at all,"
Uli laughed at him as he patted him hard on the back. "Are you already drunk, my friend? They are identical! I could not tell them apart if it was not for their dresses!"
Lucian chose not to answer once more. He thought back to his memories of his bride, Karme de Serin, as she stood in front of him at the altar. She was so breathtaking, so bewitching. Everything about her was captivating.
Unlike Krianna de Serin. Nothing about her called Lucian. Lucian could not find a single thing about them that was the same despite being twins.
Remembering the figure of his wife, hunched over and crying, Lucian could not help but keep downing booze one after the other.