Aureate Fates

25

                              TIED ME TO YOU

—MARISOL—

The ring on her finger felt like an inexplicable tether to Erik. Each time she caught a glimpse of it, she could see the gentle way that he had handled it before sliding it on her finger.

The night had ended, wedding guests touching her hands and face in goodbye. They muttered prayers over her—and Erik, too, after he had been gone for quite some time.

When he had finally returned to her in the ballroom, the cufflinks on his wrists were undid, but the rest of him looked sharp. His crown was only slightly knocked askew, but as he walked, it fell into place.

Ferland was nowhere to be found.

Marisol possessed a mountain of questions as her and Erik walked back to their room, but she didn't trust the guards to keep quiet about their conversation, even though they were sworn to secrecy.

The halls thrummed with the lively noises still outside the palace. Delphinia told them that festivities would extend far after their coronation.

But between Erik and Marisol, it was quiet. What does one say to their husband? Was there only to be silence between them, for an entire year? Marriage, albeit faulty, still must have counted for something.

As if sensing her dilemma, Erik turned his gaze toward her. "Enjoy the cake?"

"Not enough sugar," Marisol admitted.

Erik's brows rose. "Seemed like plenty of sugar to me."

"Someone like you would say such a thing."

Her husband scoffed and flickered his gray eyes over her face. "And who is someone like me?"

Marisol made a show of grabbing his hand and saying sweetly, "Incredibly boring and moody."

Erik looked down at her hand in his, then to the guards behind them and seemed to understand that she was only touching him to further prove the legitimacy of their marriage. Nevertheless, he kept his hand in hers.

"I'm only boring in your company, Mrs. Rosaria-Orvar," he said, humor evident somewhere in his voice. "You should see me at a brothel."

She never thought that name would belong to her. Orvar. She nearly stumbled. And then it registered within her what Erik had said.

"Oh," she managed, lightly. "Well, you should see me in bed." The guards behind her choked on something, and Erik sent them a warning glance. They only looked down.

When they rounded the corner, Erik said, "Maybe I should."

She was grateful for the darkness that blanketed the warmth on her neck. They reached the door, where another set of guards stood waiting to receive them. Erik pulled the door open, and let Marisol enter first. He muttered something to the guards that she could not hear, then shut the door behind him.

Marisol drifted to the couch and began to remove her shoes. She flexed her aching toes and relished in the relief she felt.

The poundage of sleep beckoned her to close her eyes, but she was still in her deathtrap of a wedding dress. It took four of her maids to tie the ribbons tight on her corset, which pressed down on her lungs all day.

She had never been in a corset before this, couldn't possibly afford one. The women in Ziralem never wore them much, anyways. Marisol stood from the couch, hands going behind her, at the string and ribbon holding her dress up. It truly was a beautiful thing.