Page 55 of The Midnight King
The King glances up and catches my eye. He’s dressed in black velvet today, looking like a dark wolf with a mane silvered by moonlight. I fucking hate how beautiful Killian is in this form, how powerful and regal he looks. I hate that when he gives me a dark, feral smile, I want to smile back.
We’re almost past the doorway when I see the bodyguard lunge for Brantley and kiss him on the mouth.
Instantly I whip my head back around, facing forward. I don’t gasp or give any outward sign of what I just saw. I think I’m the only one who noticed.
Best friend and bodyguard, indeed. And more than that, it seems. If Winston has been harboring a secret love for his Prince, no doubt he’s in agony on Brantley’s wedding day.
But there’s nothing Winston or I can do to stop this marriage. And no matter what Killian is up to, I doubt he can stop it, either.
Two hours later, I’ve been bundled into a bulky concoction of ivory silk, which seems designed to be as unflattering to my body as possible. I have no doubt that’s exactly what my stepmother intended. She also insisted I wear a towering curly wig, dusted with sparkly pink powder. My garish makeup is also courtesy of my stepmother and her girls, who kept giggling and insisting that the stylist add more.
I am a walking joke to my step-family. Even though this wedding is saving them from poverty and placing them at the top of the social ladder, they still hate me as much as they ever did.
Gilda, the girls, and I ride to the Cathedral of Fate in a royal carriage. They wave to the crowd, not allowing me space at the windows even though the people lining the streets call out my name, eager to see me.
When we arrive at the side entrance to the cathedral, I’m hustled along a dim hallway and into a room where I’m supposed to wait until it’s time for the processional. My stepmother is called away to deal with some emergency related to the wedding bouquet, and I take the opportunity to send my maids out of the room so I can have a few quiet moments to myself.
Once the door is shut and I’m alone, I crumple to the floor, bowing over with my face in my hands. I would wipe off thegarish makeup, but I’ve been ordered not to touch it. I’ve also been commanded not to cry, and not to show any signs of distress in public. But here, in the silence, I can be distressed all by myself, in my wig and my ugly dress.
For a moment I consider summoning Killian. This whole week, I’ve kept my pocket watch hidden in my corset, knowing my stepmother wouldn’t allow me to wear it. When I was dressed like a servant, she didn’t care, but now that I must wear finer clothing, the watch would seem too poor an ornament for a soon-to-be queen. It’s tucked into my bodice now, near my heart. But my pride won’t let me take it out… not after the way Killian and I ended things on the night of the last ball.
He’s still around, despite the rift between us, and that is a comfort, an anchor in the storm of my distress. I think if I called him he would come. But what could he do? He can’t spare me from this marriage. And I’m not ready to voice my worst fear aloud—the terror that this day will be my last.
Tonight, my stepmother will come to the room I share with Brantley. She’ll remove the anklet from me and place it on the Prince. And then she will probably kill me.
I don’t know how she’ll do it. Maybe she’ll have the Prince give the order. Maybe she has hired an assassin. Maybe she and her daughters will take turns stabbing me. Maybe it will be poison. Whatever happens, I know Killian will try to save me. But I can’t be sure he’ll succeed.
If I die, will he mourn me? Will it bother him to stand in the cathedral today, in the form of the King, and watch me marry someone else?
I wish I could cry. It would be some small measure of relief for the tempest inside me.
The door opens, and the King darts in, closing it swiftly behind him. He looks down at me, crouched there on the floor.
“What a ridiculous dress,” he says. “By the god-stars, I’ve never seen such an ugly wedding gown, or such terrible makeup.And that wig—” He shudders. “My darling, you can’t be seen like this.”
If I could burst into tears, I would. His very presence breathes calm into my soul. It’s a comfort I shouldn’t feel around him, but I can’t help it.
“I’m not allowed to take off the dress or change the makeup,” I say quietly.
“ButIcan.” He gives me the King’s wolfish grin. “This wedding may be a farce, but you deserve to look as beautiful outside as you are inside.”
“That’s a compliment.” I give him a trembling smile. “And I don’t think I’m beautiful inside, at all.”
He steps nearer and reaches down, gently lifting me to my feet. “Yes, you are. And they’re all going to see it.”
“You’re not supposed to talk to me or touch me,” I say, but there’s no bite in the words, no force of will behind them.
“I gave you space,” he whispers. “It’s been fucking torture. But I had to come see you, before…” His words trail off.
Before I’m married. Before everything unfolds tonight, all the unknowns we can’t plan for.
“You can’t be caught in here,” I tell him.
“I know. And though I’ve broken your trust, my darling Sin, I hope you know you can count on me tonight, whatever happens.”
I nod, and the wig bobbles.
Killian chuckles in the deep voice of the King. “When the doors open and you begin your walk down the aisle, I’ll send you my wedding gift.”