ARELLIA

On the day of Summer Solstice, I wear a low-neck white silk gown that sinches at my waist and drapes to the floor. It is adorned with tiny blue glittering diamonds and laces on my neckline and sleeves. My handmaids pay me endless compliments as they scrub my toes and hands and apply sweet-scented oil to my skin and hair. I feel like a doll, being tugged and pulled and shaped into something that will appease my future husband.

Enka braids blue hydrangea flowers and small azure pearls from the Eastern sea into my hair; the braid is loose and voluminous and flows down the small of my back.

They make me wear hints of blue to match the colour of his eyes. I have yet to see his face but I am overcome with fear as his features are described to me— a mean face with piercing blue eyes and a sharp jaw, my handmaids whisper into my ear.

The servants saw them arrive in the early morning, carrying their black and red crescent moon banners. He is to be knighted this afternoon, witnessed by members of the Imperial Court. I am expected to be in attendance. I am expected to dance with him during the royal ball this eve.

It is a subtle thing, I realise, the arts of seduction. I am told if I smile sweetly and look into his eyes, he will succumb to my charm. But, I am a nervous wreck. I do not wish to look at him or meet him. My heart thunders in my chest, cold sweat beading on my back and neck.

Enka sighs and I look up at her suddenly. "Do not cry, Your Highness," She dabs the corners of my eyes. I did not realise I had been. She then powders my face again and lines my lips with red.

"You mustn't fear. I hear that he is loyal and strong and even if he does not make a fine husband, you must still perform your duty." Enka smiles as she curls two long strands of hair at the side of my head so it falls gracefully to shape my face.

She is able to smile because it is not her who is being forced to marry a brute. Uneasiness blossoms inside me. I see a political play here, as all marriages are, but I cannot help but feel more so with this event that something is amiss.

"Breathe, your Highness." She squeezes my hands as she helps me up from the chair. I am brought to a full-length mirror. Tears threaten to flow again as I see my reflection. I look like the perfect bride; slim with slight curves and a heart-shaped face with big eyes. I look as beautiful as my handmaids say but I feel hollow. I can see the dimness in my gaze. The longer I stare at myself, the angrier I feel.

"Let us go," I say. My handmaids bow and follow as I exit my chambers.

I do not tremble or cry. I clench my fists until my palms sting.

***

I am greeted with a flood of compliments and stares as soon as I enter the ballroom. It is nerve-wracking and my palms sweat beneath my lace gloves, making my rings feel loose and slippery.

The great Houses arrived early dressed in silks, laces, expensive feathers, gold and jewels from every exotic corner of the Earth. They mingle around the room, flocking to the highest-ranking members of the court, gossiping and laughing.

The throne room is bright and smells like wine and flowers, but I do not notice the extravagance. Instead, I comb the masses looking for any men dressed in black. Although I am scared, my curiosity is greater. My heart beats wildly in my chest. But, I am soon bombarded by the ladies of the high court.

"Oh, your Highness, you look absolutely divine." A small curvy woman says, her mouth hiding behind a feathered fan. I do not know who she is. I smile and say my thanks. I feel as though the air has been squeezed out of my lungs. Faces of men and women bombard me, offering their greetings, congratulations and compliments.

Vasilis and my father have yet to arrive, so I must play the part of a royal princess; the one to bear their gazes and small-talk, to smile and laugh as they make their jokes. The epitome of perfection. But, my mind is a world away from them, this party.

I picture the man I am to marry, the life I will have to share with this stranger. My duties.

Once, this would have filled me with pride, the opportunity to aid my House. Now, there is only bitterness.

I have never been proficient in entertaining. I smile and laugh and make small talk, but it feels suffocating. They fire compliments at me as though their lives depend on it, but I know their words are hollow. Their eyes are hungry, searching for something. Waiting for me to slip up.

Vasilis enters the room and the lords and ladies flock to him like moths to a flame. But, he strolls past them with careless ease; long legs striding toward me like a lion stalking its prey. I swallow and smile, hoping he does not sense my nervousness.

"There you are, my beautiful sister," Vasilis smiles. On his arm is Lady Catherine, she curtsies and smiles mischievously.

"Oh my, you are a dashing sight, Princess." I smile awkwardly at her compliment. Lady Catherine is immaculate in a high necked gown, it hugs her curves and flows to her ankles.

"You have not met them yet, have you?" She raises a brow and takes a sip of her drink. Slyly, she glances toward the corner of the ballroom. I follow her gaze and spot a dozen men clad in black suits. All large and intimidating. I hesitate.

Lady Catherine sees my apprehensiveness and says, "Perhaps we should go over and introduce ourselves, after all, you will be marrying one of them." She takes her long fingers from the nook of Vasilis' arm and takes my hand. Pulling me along with her to that frightful corner of the room.

Her grip is tight and I stumble slightly over the hem of my dress. She does not relent and laughs as though my anguish is entirely amusing. My stomach is in knots, my face is red and hot. I feel like I am going to cry.

The men all turn at once when we approach. Vasilis gawks at us from a distance, as if he is witnessing the most entertaining spectacle. It feels like all the air in the room has suddenly disappeared. I drag my eyes over their scarred, rough faces. They stare at me as though I have three heads. The awkward silence is never-ending.

Then, all at once, they bow deeply.

"Your Royal Highness, how we are blessed to be in your presence." A stout man with a horrifying scar across his bald glistening head says to me. His voice trembles.

"P-please," I manage to blurt quietly. Unsure of what to do next, I glance at Lady Catherine beside me. Her eyes are narrow but her grin is wide.

"The infamous guild, The Black Company! How gracious of you to join us for this historic event." She fans her face lightly with a blue and green-hued feathered fan.

"We are ever so grateful to be in the presence of such brave men, isn't that right, your Royal Highness?" She turns to me abruptly. I must not fear. Play the part.

I smile sweetly and say, "Y-yes, we are all so delighted to have you here with us. Without brave men such as yourselves, Illya would still be at war. House Virtris, nay, the kingdom thanks you." I nod and smile. Though, I am playing a part of a benevolent princess. I do believe my words ring true.

"Your Royal Highness, we thank you for your kind words but we are dutiful and loyal and will never betray the faith of those who hire us." The stout man bows again, deeply.

"We thank you for your service, I do hope you enjoy the gold." Lady Catherine snickers. "Where is our hero of the night?" She goes on to her tiptoes and looks around, already bored.

"U-um…" The men scratch their heads and share awkward glances. "I'm sorry, my lady, we don't know." Says a tall lean man with smooth ebony skin. Despite his colour, his cheeks flush pleasantly. Lady Catherine rolls her eyes and strides back to Vasilis' side without uttering another word. I hear them giggle in the background.

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen," I weave past them and out into the veranda in a hurry, ignoring the stares and whispers of those I pass.

I clutch at the railings tightly, it feels like I am losing control of this facade. Humid warmth caresses my skin and I inhale deeply, staring up at the grey clouds. I hope I did not make a fool of myself.

How long must I endure this pomp and extravagance? I long to be back in my chambers. My face heats and my mouth goes dry at a sudden realisation that I will no longer sleep alone after my wedding ceremony. I will have to share my bed with that man. Tears burn my eyes. I sob silently, my hand clutched against my mouth.

A bottle clinks against the floor and I hear a soft grunt behind me. I jolt at the noise and turn to see a brooding man sitting on a bench in the corner of the veranda.

Two empty bottles of wine sit at his feet, one half-empty in his hand. His lips are pursed and his brows are furrowed. His gaze is as piercing and icy as his deep blue eyes.