Royal Chronicles of Denmark, Books 1 & 2 Page 14

  I scoffed. “You make me sound as if I’m the devil reincarnate.” I gathered my gown and moved across the corridor. “I never bewitched your son! I never asked him to choose me, it was his own decision.”

  “I never blamed you for such bewitchment,” he replied calmly. “But to refuse Princess Sophia of England, which as a result has created what seems to be an inevitable conflict between our country and theirs due to this decision, in favor of a maiden from the very village in which his brother was found slaughtered near the fountain? The village in which I had been informed his murderess hailed from, and--”

  I spun back in his direction and opened my eyes wide. “Murderess?”

  “I have been informed by the Sheriff’s men that my son was following a young maiden that night. Someone from the celebration, perhaps, someone he had been unpleasant with.”

  “That’s all they informed you?” He gave me a slight yet inquisitive nod. I looked down and fixed my dress to avoid his probing eyes. “Well…” I cleared my throat, attempting to appear unruffled and relaxed. “A woman he was ‘unpleasant’ with seems quite vague, your Majesty. I mean no personal offense, but your son was purely vile with every maiden within Hadenville and beyond.”

  “You would know it best, it seems.”

  He paused and crinkled his brows then, staring at me with more intensity.

  I feared he would take me out by the hair to the scaffold and hang me himself for what I said in those very seconds. Or, chop off my head with his own sword, and hold it up in delight for the entire wedding party to witness and cheer. But I couldn’t help what I felt.

  I reached for my throat and pondered.

  The king tapped my arm, pulling his hand back cautiously as I turned to him, and looked deep into my eyes as if he were searching for something.

  He waited a moment and tapped his finger against his lips. Then he squint as if the sun had made its way inside the palace, and pointed at me. “Did you encounter my son?” he asked.

  I flinched. “What?”

  “The night Willem was murdered, did you see him?”

  I stood back and laughed a bit to hide my worry and dread at him learning the truth. I turned to avoid his eyes, to keep him from seeing the lies seep from my eyes as I spoke. “How would I have seen him when I was nowhere near the fountain that night?”

  “Where had you been that night, Cinderella?”

  “I was hunting in the woods,” I replied. “I didn’t learn of your son until the following morning along with the rest of the village.”

  “But it is possible you knew his attacker, being from the same village.”

  “As possible as you being aware of every single member of your serving staff, and acknowledging them first name, and last.”

  He didn’t say another word after that.

  He was still glaring at me when I turned back to him, uncertain of my words, but I could also see wonder and apprehension in his eyes, as if he didn’t know what to be true -- as if he didn’t know what he wished to be true, or who he could trust.

  We stood silent for at least another minute or two before Brigita entered. I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing her instead of a maiden from the queen’s court.

  “The ceremony is about to begin,” she whispered. She came over to me, readjusting my headdress and dusting the sleeves of my gown. “The harpist has taken her place near the archway. Please, Sire, get in place.” She fixed his crown and collar, pulling it from beneath his thick, reddened neck. She noticed him perspiring and dabbed his head with his own handkerchief.

  Belarus took his place beside me as instructed and raised his arm, holding it out as if he were waiting to place it upon the arm of his throne. I took a deep and rattling breath and followed suit, placing my arm on top of his. As Brigita moved aside, the double doors opened to the lawn. Everyone turned to face us. Some gasped, some placed their hands together and grinned, others shook their heads, still disbelieving; the rest looked to the ground, refusing to even acknowledge my presence.

  Norvack peeked around them all and found my eyes. He stood with his arms folded in front of him and smiled so wide, I could see his glinting teeth, even from where I stood on the other side. If only for a moment, no one else seemed to exist between us. I didn’t know what I was feeling as I watched him staring at me, as I stared back at him with a smile finally gracing my lips, but I knew that it felt good, it felt, safe.

  Belarus quickly grinned from ear to ear, presenting a cheerfulness to the public, but grit his teeth to speak to me.

  “I fear my son shall regret this day on the lawn,” he said.

  I swallowed hard and continued looking straight ahead. “The same as you when you married the queen?”

  “I had no regrets in marrying Eliza--”

  “And your son shall have no regrets in marrying me.”

  When the harpist began playing her harmonic tune, my heart beat erratically, my head suddenly ached, and my hand rattled atop the king’s arm. I wasn’t sure if he truly hadn’t noticed, or only feigned ignorance in not realizing. Before we stepped out onto the elongated white carpet which ran from the foot of the palace, straight down the lawn, I took a deep breath and I looked out Norvack one last time. “My God,” I muttered in shock. He couldn’t stop grinning with so much happiness as he continued to stare at me.

  I dropped my head, realizing in that split second that running was no longer an option -- if it ever was -- no matter how fast I was certain my feet could carry me across the lawn and outside the gates.

  I smiled back at him encouragingly, allowing him to relish in the idea that I was truly wanting, truly capable of being his wife. Once my smile faded, I knew there was no turning back now. I had to marry him, not just for his wants and desires, but for my own.

  The Wedding

  As I glided down the silk white carpet with the king by side, leading to the archway, I took a few deep breaths, looking straight ahead and into Norvack’s eyes. It was almost as if they were guiding my every step, as if he was so afraid I would run at any moment that even if he looked away for just a second, blinked, or somehow lost focus on my face, that the trance he created would be inevitably broken.

  When I finally reached him he took my hands, breathing a quick sigh of relief. He shook his father’s hand and Belarus looked to me, nodding. Then he stepped forward and coldly kissed my cheek. His lips were stiff, rough. They felt like pure ice scraping against my skin.

  Norvack looked down at me and grinned so wide, I feared his face would break.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  I nodded. I couldn’t muster up a response, or a smile to reassure him that it was true, even though it wasn’t. I could barely do anything except breathe and count to ten in my head as Father Calhoun spoke.

  “Dearly beloved,” he began, holding his Bible close to his chest and adjusting his spectacles to read word for word, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…”

  A few mumbles of disgust were heard from those surrounding us, proclaiming this union as anything but ‘holy’, but Father Calhoun ignored them, as did Norvack who kept his eyes on me the entire time, and continued.

  “…which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church: which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.” Father Calhoun lowered his specs a bit and looked out into the crowd, scanning various eyes and faces. Norvack peered curiously. “If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold h
is peace.”

  The prince scowled and clasped my hands a bit tighter than before.

  Father Calhoun turned back to us.

  “I require and charge you both, as you shall answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed--”

  I dropped back a little and shut my eyes in dread. I breathed out, nearly choking on my words. “Oh my God.”

  “That if either of you know any impediment why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony,” he went on; it was as if his eyes were burning the words SIN! and DEATH! right into my soul, “you shall now confess it. For be well assured, that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's Word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful.”

  I felt faint. “Oh God.”

  Norvack noticed my jitters immediately and twisted his face in anger. He leaned into Father Calhoun and clinched his teeth. “Those words”, he snapped, “were to be stricken from the ceremony entirely, as we discussed here just yesterday.”

  Father Calhoun bowed. “My apologies, prince. But I must listen to the words of the king, for he demanded they remain within the ceremony.” He cleared his throat and stood straight. “Shall anyone speak--?”

  “I believe we can move on,” responded Norvack gruffly. He looked to his father, who appeared completely befuddled and angered by us both -- his eyes dark, his face, stoic.

  The priest nodded. “Very well.” He pointed down at his Bible and looked to the prince. “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her safe, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  Norvack smiled and rubbed the back of my hands with his fingers. “I shall forever,” he answered proudly. The look in his eyes was so reassuring, so comforting and supportive, it terrified me a little. I didn’t realize how much he truly cared for my well being until the moment those words escaped from his lips.

  “Wilt thou have this Man to be thy wedded husband,” Father Calhoun directed to me, “to live together after Gods ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him” -- I cringed and crinkled my brows in a fury -- “love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  I waited for a few moments. My breathing became shallow, my hands lost all sensation. My throat went completely dry. A few seconds passed, and I could barely remember my own name.

  “Cinder,” said Father Calhoun , glaring at me. “Shall I repeat the vows?”

  I remained frozen.

  “Cinder?” he asked again. Norvack rubbed the back of my hands again, nodding in an attempt to encourage me to answer. But I couldn’t.

  “Cinderella,” Father Calhoun said again, more stern this time, as if he was losing his patience with me. “Shall I repeat the vows, or--?”

  “No,” said Norvack, waving a hand. “She’ll say them.” He moved closer and bent down. “Cinder. Look at me.” My eyes remained fixated on our hands. I gulped, hearing him speak but the words seemed so unclear, garbled. He placed his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face until our eyes met. His had reddened somewhat. I saw glints of worry overtaking his entire face. “Cinder,” he said again, this time with a soft yet timid grin. “Be my wife. I shall keep you safe, always. Trust me and what we have.” He dropped his hand and I dropped my head on the verge of tears. He turned to the priest and cleared his throat. “Repeat the vows for her,” he ordered.

  “No, no, I…” It was almost as if I were in a dream, my mind was going but it seemed my mouth wasn’t quick enough to catch up! Finally, I shook my head and held my breath, then blurted. “I will -- I shall.” I sighed. “Yes.”

  Norvack exhaled between his lips and looked to the heavens. “That was close,” he mumbled.

  “Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?”

  “By default, I do, sir,” said the king.

  Father Calhoun acknowledged Belarus and ran his finger down the page of his Bible. “Now, prince, repeat after me; I Norvack Lars Belarus I take thee Cinderella Von Strepenburg to be my wedded wife; to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer” -- more guests mumbled -- “in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

  Norvack heartily repeated each word, staring directly into my eyes the entire time.

  I almost fell in love with him right there. The pure emotion exuding from him was overwhelming, but also deeply fascinating and arousing.

  As Father Calhoun turned, asking I repeat the same, I did after more slight hesitation -- the part in which I was ordered to obey my husband remained a thorn in my side that was sure to never disappear if I in fact had to obey him as the vows proclaimed.

  “Shall we have the ring, please?”

  The king grudgingly stepped forward, coughing, wheezing and carrying on in making a bit of a scene in an attempt to take as much focus from the ceremony as possible, and placed the ring at the center of the Bible. Father Calhoun bowed to him and then directed Norvack to take the ring and place it on my finger. He lifted it and turned it a bit, allowing me to see that our initials had been carved on the inside in cursive letters.

  “When did you have that done?” I asked with fascination. “And if you say when we were children--”

  He snickered. “No. The night you watched me chopping wood on the lawn, I was making a fire for the oven in the foundry room, to melt the gold for the ring.”

  I smiled against my will. “You made this yourself?”

  He nodded and began reciting the vows. “With this ring,” he slipped it on my finger and held tight, “I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  We beamed at one another, and for those few seconds passing between us, everything within the ceremony felt genuine, perfect. As if I were marrying him, not because he demanded, or promised to keep me safe, but because I wished for it, because I desired to be his wife as much as he had desired to be my husband.

  I peeked over and noticed the priest grinning at both of us, respectively. The king and queen on the other hand…

  “Forasmuch as Norvack and Cinder have consented together in holy wedlock,” started Father Calhoun, “and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring, and by joining hands, I pronounce that they are Man and Wife, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” He turned to us and grinned once more. “May God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that you may so live together in this life, that in the world to come you may have life everlasting. Amen.”

  People began clapping, some more enthusiastically than others. Norvack leaned forward to kiss me on either cheek as instructed. I lifted to my toes and followed, doing the same. He then turned us toward the guests and waved, and soon guided me along back down the carpet. The king reached out for me in obligation and kissed my hand. The queen nodded to me and pressed her fingers to her lips, frostily blowing a kiss to her son. He shot her a reserved smile and continued us along the carpet.

  Once we reached the edge, he bowed to the crowd. “We shall join you all in the west ballroom shortly for the festivities,” he said. “But for this moment, I shall escort my bride to a private room inside the palace, in which she shall now receive her final wedding gift.” Everyone clapped again.

  I faced Norvack and knit my brows, anxious. “Final wedding gift?”

  “You’ll see.” He winked.

  We headed f
or the palace as they looked on. He pulled me into one of the libraries near the east ballroom once we were inside, so that we were to not be disturbed by anyone from his staff. Before we were even in the room, he whirled me around and began kissing and sucking my throat. “You’re mine,” he said between kisses, his breath hitting my neck hard, his voice dark, sexually enticing. “You finally belong to me. I shall taste every part of you now.” He kicked the door shut behind him and pressed himself against my pelvis.

  “Is this my surprise?” I asked playfully.

  He took my face between two fingers and forced me to focus on his. He stared at me in a way that startled yet made me yearn for him even more. “I need you.”

  He thrust against me and I moaned, dropping my hands to his plump derriere and reaching around anxiously for his cock, until I remembered the circumstances and pulled myself together, if only for a second.

  “We can’t, Norvack,” I muttered out of breath, weakly attempting to shove him back. “Remember what you said earlier. Tonight.”

  “Now.” He moved us into a corner near the bookcase, his face embedded in the side of my throat, and lifted me up, placing me on the edge of a wooden desk. I helplessly slipped my fingers into his hair and he grunted in my ear. I was more than desperate to be devoured by him. He crumpled all the layers of my gown up to my waist, which seemed to be a miracle all of its own, and placed his hand between my thighs, squeezing them, muttering at how warm I was. “I feel you, Cinder,” he said. “Mmmm, you’re wet for me.” His fingers were just inches from my clit. I exhaled, my mouth open as I could feel myself coming before he even touched me there.

  “Tonight,” I begged, my hand slipping from his hair to the base of his neck. “Please. You shall have me at your desire tonight.” Norvack crept a bit closer and then abruptly stopped, dropping his head in defeat and placing his hands on either side of me, his fingers tenderly grazing my legs. “I wish for you to have me, I do, but…” My eyes fell.