Page 56 of When Night Falls
"So, what can I expect out of this whole ordeal?" I decide to break the silence and see if I can pick Troy's brain. She has to have some kind of knowledge as to what I'm expected to do withthe future title of queen if my own soon-to-be husband won't cough up any answers.
"You mean, you guys haven't really talked about it?"
"Honestly, no. I mean, I did get some answers out of him, but all I really know is that I'm his soulmate, or whatever, and he has to follow through with that in marriage in order to become king." I think over the words I just spoke trying to figure out how I'm supposed to fit in to all this, and why I even truly want it? To prove a point to someone? To myself?
"Why would you need to prove a point to yourself?" Troy infiltrates my thoughts and an anxious blush creeps up my pale skin.
"Can you not?" I ask her rudely.
"I can not, but sometimes I can't help it. Reading minds is just too good."
"Can everyone read my mind?"
"If I focus on it, yes I can.” Her eyes dance around me as she pretends to hone in on my mind.
"Well, focus on something else," I warn her.
"Honestly, just ask him. I know Rivian can seem like a hard ass and maybe even a little bit of a jerk. He isn't labeled the Dark Prince for a reason.”
“That’scomforting.” Chills accost me as I think of what that could mean. But honestly, I like the sound of it.
“But he takes the respect of his kingdom very seriously and if you simply just ask him, he'll tell you everything you need to know."
I know she's not wrong. He's been pretty good at answering me this far, albeit cryptic or not.
"I will tell you-" She leans forward and places her elbows on her knees. "There's kind of a silly little vampy kind of running loose killing people for no real reason.” Her tone is playful as she leans in, covering her mouth to tell me the secret. “A rogue wecall it. But in all seriousness, murder without reason is grounds for conviction of treason by the Faction. Rivian unmarried leaves this kingdom at risk of falling to the blame of such because of our past." Her words pelt me like thick, heavy stones one by one. What the hell does any of that mean?
I don't have time to process the questions I want to ask her next before the lady helping us makes a reappearance.
"Alright then." The dress consultant comes out from behind a curtain with a rack full of potential dresses. Suddenly, I feel a pit form in my stomach. It feels vile but then turns into a flutter of nerves.
I'm about to get married soon. And this might be my only time to live out a fairytale dream despite all the information I'd just been fed.
Was I ever the little girl who dreamt of getting married? No, not really. I was trying to survive my father's abuse and the bullying of his step-daughters. But now that I know it's actually in line with my future—by choice or not—I might as well enjoy this moment to the fullest.
"So, what kind of vibes are we going for?" The lady with legs for days asks us as she runs her hands gently against the fabrics of all the dress options displayed for us.
"White or ivory," Troian answers for me, irritation bubbling inside me. So much for enjoying this to the fullest.
"Are there traditions about what I should and shouldn't wear?" I decide to ask, wondering why she spoke up for me so quickly.
"Actually, yes, but Rivian seems to be steering away from his own intended traditions so, now that I think about it, I don't see why you can't." She shrugs with a cute smirk drawn on her face, her hair falls forward before she blows it out of her eyes.
"What do you mean?" Curiosity getting the best of me, I turn my body toward Troy and completely ignore the sales rep.
"Well, typically the groom wears white if the marriage is of strict convenience," she says.
"And I take it he's not wearing white then?"
"Correct. And only grooms of non-royal blood are allowed to wear black."
"Okay, so what colorishe wearing then?"
"Maroon," she tells me, a weird look on her face as if it might be out of character for Rivian to want to wear a maroon suit to his wedding.
An image of him standing at the altar, waiting for me, flashes through my head and butterflies attack my insides. Fuck, that would do it for me. That would be what ruins my plans to just be his perfect muse, the villain he so craves me to be.
"And what, might I ask, does the color maroon detail?" I turn my attention back to the conversation rather than visions of Rivian in a wedding tux.