Seraphina struggled to rise quickly but succumbed to dizziness, forcing her back onto the bed. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping the sensation would pass swiftly.
"Haa…"
Frustration welled within her, and she sighed heavily. Missing such a crucial moment due to her frail health was agonizing.
If not for her weakened state, Seraphina might have had a chance to speak openly with the Duke. Yet, the opportunity had slipped away, leaving her uncertain of what dawn would bring—a wedding or disappointment.
She had a sinking feeling. Would her collapse now result in facing not the comfort of her bed and curtains, but the stern presence of her father?
The Count must have placated the Duke somehow. What words had he used to soothe the fears of a reputed murderer? She couldn't shake the memory of her father's benevolent smile upon hearing of the Duke's arrival.
A whirlwind of conflicting emotions crossed Seraphina's face.
'The Duke of Everwyn.'
The man she had chosen for a one-night encounter turned out to be her intended husband. It couldn't be a mere coincidence.
'Is he truly to be my husband?'
Recalling his explicit words whispered in her ear made her cheeks burn. He had aroused her, unabashedly describing her arousal, leaving her both ashamed and strangely intrigued.
But if asked whether she disliked it, that wouldn't be the truth. Seraphina buried her face in her hands.
She felt a tumultuous desire she had never experienced before. Shame washed over her as she recalled his touch, his tongue exploring every inch of her. Had he left any part untouched?
Thoughts of his appearance, so different from the rumors, widened Seraphina's eyes. Perhaps he, like her, was a victim of gossip. She longed to confront him honestly.
...
The wedding day arrived after a sleepless night filled with swirling thoughts.
Count Alaric surveyed the bustling wedding hall, alive with murmurs and curious gazes. It intrigued the guests—two figures at the heart of scandalous rumors soon to be united.
Lady Seraphina Alaric, the Count's first daughter, had struggled her whole life with frailty.
As a founding power, Duke Raven Everwyn bore the weight of many ominous rumors.
Their union seemed flawless on paper, yet the attendees were more interested in these less sociable, less politically inclined members of their respective families.
Amidst the whispers, scrutiny, and anticipation, Seraphina remained composed in her dressing room.
The bride, expected to radiate joy and beauty, sat with a pallor upon her face.
Moments ago, the Count's relentless nagging had left her ears ringing. "With so many guests, don't cause trouble," his words echoed.
Exhaustion compounded as attendants meticulously applied makeup to conceal her fatigue.
Only when they finished did Seraphina dare to study her reflection.
The white gown and delicate jewelry were a perfect match. Save for her wan complexion, she might have been the epitome of a radiant bride.
For Seraphina, who rarely indulged in luxuries, the wedding attire was a marvel. Her energetic brother often received new things, leaving her with little more than a cherished doll and books.
The gown, fitting snugly against her once-fragile frame, felt oddly comforting. Not long ago, she had worried about her very survival.