"Are you feeling better? We should probably get out now." Ace speaks after a long moment of letting her catch her breath and swallow her pain. She's laying down on her side as she watches Ace get up from where he has been sitting by the edge of the bed beside her and stare at her with a concerned look in his eyes.
Her stomach still aches, neck still throb from the mating scar, but the burning desire to have a knot up her flower quelled down after Ace had straight up refused to be involved in any kind of intimate act with her.
Ace is right. They should get out of here since she can only imagine how long they've been in here. "Yeah." She says, trying to push herself up from the mattress. Her husband, though, is so fast to assist her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he helps her on her feet.
"Does it still hurt so bad?" He asks.
"Huh?"
"The bite?" Ace juts his chin out at her neck.
"Oh, no. Not as bad." She murmurs, looking down at her feet.
"That's good." Ace nods his head. And Elsie doesn't bother to respond to that.
---
Ace helps her into the long robe she had discarded earlier for him to put the mark on her, his touch is gentle as he does, careful not to brush too close to the still-sensitive mark on her neck. Neither of them speaks. The silence between them now is heavy, like a stone pressed between two hearts.
Ace creaks the door open.
Sunlight pours in, spills over the snow, sharp and silver, blinding for a moment. Elsie instinctively raises her hand to shield her eyes. It's strange how loud the world suddenly feels—the chirping birds, the distant chatter, the whisper of cold wind through the trees. Everything feels too alive. Everything feels a little too much now that she has a mark on her neck which binds her soul to another.
Everything is too vivid. Too alive.
Each breath she draws stings in her lungs, frosted and real.
And beneath the collar of her cloak, the mark on her neck throbs faintly—like a second heartbeat not entirely her own.
They step down the stone steps together with Ace's hand steady at her waist.
A small gathering waits outside patiently. And Elsie doesn't know for how long they have been waiting.
Family. Nobles. Attents. Court officials. Their faces lights up as if saying, oh, fucking finally when their eyes land on Ace and Elsie. But more than anything happy. They're happy to see them together, mated for life, and as their King and Queen. They love how Savannah and Lievca have bonded together through their mating.
The Queen of Savannah is the first to approach, looking elegant in her soft cream gown, her silver hair twisted up with a golden comb. "There you are," she murmurs, though her gaze flicks quickly to the mark on Elsie's neck. "Was beginning to wonder if the two of you had plans to stay in there forever."
Ace lets out a small exhale—almost a laugh, but it doesn't quite make it. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Marisela's, Ace's mother's eyes linger on Elsie's face. "Are you alright, dear?"
"I'm fine," Elsie says softly. The smile she gives is polished, practiced—what a queen is meant to show. Not the way her legs still tremble or the dull ache in her belly.
Marisela nods, but there's a slight crease between her brows. She touches Ace's arm briefly as if telling him she's there for him before stepping back. He gives his mother a long glance then a quick nod.
The priest clears his throat and raises his hands. "By the laws of our land and the rite of the Ancients, the bond between King Ace of Lievca and Lady Elsie of Savannah is now sealed. Let all bear witness to this sacred union."
Polite claps ripple through the crowd, though they aren't loud enough to drown out the tension that hangs around the newlyweds like a storm cloud waiting to burst.
Elsie's eyes roam for her father, wanting to see what he feels about this all. Will she be able to see the pride shining in his eyes?
Is he proud of her for sacrificing herself, her precious life for the sake of her Kingdom?
When her eyes land on him standing across Ace's uncle with Inès, her little sister who's mere five winters old, in his arms, Elsie sees herself in the child. She promises she has been her yesterday, now looks at Elsie, all grown up. She's a wife now, wife of a ruthless King, a Queen herself who has to bid farewell to her birthland in a few hours.
Just how fast the night changes?
Life does go by the blink of an eye.
Her father looks her way and their eyes lock, and Elsie sees glimmers of pain, hope and pride in her fathers eyes. So many different emotions all blended together in his pale gray eyes. Her lips stretch into a smile, tears springing to her eyes as she watches him. The man who made her the Elsie Isadora Fernandez she is today.
Elsie's step-sister, Celia, stands near her mother. She isn't clapping. Her arms are clenched around her pretty ceremonial robe, head tilted just slightly as her eyes rake over Elsie's face, then Ace's, and back again. She doesn't say a word, but Elsie feels it—the suspicion, the sharpness of her gaze and the sadness weighing her heart. Celia never misses a thing.
And Elsie is so sure that her sister is waiting for them to step foot in the castel to talk to her.
Just as the crowd begins to move toward the waiting carriages that will take them to the castle for the feast, Ace leans in and murmurs, "We don't have to stay long."
Elsie shakes her head, eyes fixed forward. "We do," she says. "But we don't have to pretend."
His lips twitch—something like a ghost of a smile—but he doesn't reply.
They step forward together, and for the first time, the title begins to settle in:
Queen.
King.
Strangers with matching crowns.