025 - Bound Souls

025 - Bound Souls
My feet carried me forward. Each step felt both too fast and too slow, my heart racing to keep up. When I reached him, he took my hand without hesitation.

His skin was cold. Not cool like someone who'd been standing outside too long, but truly cold. Like ice or metal or something not quite human. His lips, when they pressed softly against my cheek in greeting, were the same—cold enough to make me shiver.

I wondered why every part of his skin was always cold. It wasn't just winter. There was something else about him, different.

"You look breathtaking," he whispered, his breath ghosting across my ear.

The sincerity in his voice tugged a smile from my lips despite my nerves. "You look dashingly handsome."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. It left me momentarily stunned—perhaps it was because I expected him to be someone else, I expected him to be harder. Not this man whose eyes showed nothing but sincerity.
He was marrying me, a woman he barely knows yet, he looks so at ease.
One could even dare say he looks...satisfied?

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," he said, his thumb brushing across my knuckles.

The priest cleared his throat, drawing our attention. Father Benedict stepped forward, holding a length of red cord. His expression was solemn as he began the ceremony, his voice carrying across the small gathering.

The words washed over me, familiar from countless weddings I'd attended, mine included. Then he took the red cord and wrapped it around our joined hands, looping it around our wrists and tying it in an intricate knot.

"With this cord, I bind your souls to each other," he intoned. "What is joined here cannot be sundered by mortal means."

I felt it then—an unfamiliar tug at my chest. Not like the bond I'd shared with Cassien, which had been instant and overwhelming, a mate bond that connected soul to soul without needing a ceremony. This was different. Quieter. But it was there.

I could feel Zeirik. Not his thoughts or emotions exactly, but his presence. Like a thread connecting us, fragile but real.

His eyes never left mine. Not even when I had to look away from the intensity in them, my face heating under that unwavering stare. My nerves were all over the place, my heart pounding so hard I feared it would break through my ribs.

The priest continued speaking, his words about honor and loyalty. Then finally, he said, "On the first full moon"—he paused, calculating—"which will be in a few days, you should mark each other and officially make your souls one."

Mark each other. The traditional bite that werewolves gave their mates, claiming each other permanently. The thought made my pulse jump, though I wasn't sure if it was from fear or something else.
I had one, from Cassien but it was slowly fading since the day I rejected him. I couldn't mark him because well...I have no claws or fangs, so I gave him a ring, one that belonged to my father.

I made a mental note to take it back once I was more settled.

Then it was over. The priest stepped back, nodding his approval, and left without further ceremony.

A few guests walked up to offer congratulations. Mira hugged me tightly, whispering that I looked like a queen. Marcus clapped Zeirik on the shoulder, grinning.

Then Alpha Melbourne approached.

He was taller up close, with gray threading through his blonde hair and his still youthful face despite his age. His smile was small but seemed genuine as he looked at me.

He leaned down, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Protect Zeirik from the snakes at court. I leave my son in your hands now."

I blinked, confused by the intimacy of the request, the trust implied in those words.

But he wasn't done.
"Make him the crown prince, and I will grant you power far beyond your wildest dreams."

A low, sharp gasp escaped me.
I pulled back sharply, shock making me forget propriety. My eyes searched his face, looking for some sign that I'd misheard. But his expression remained that same soft smile, pleasant and paternal.

My mind raced. Make him crown prince? But that would mean... that would mean he wanted Zeirik to be the heir instead of Cassien. It would change everything.
He had all the power, but not enough when it came to the support of the court and the council.
That was what happened in Cassien's case, the council had come to a decision and due to them coming in their numbers and his other son being sent off to war, the king didn't refuse.
But now...

I could feel the confused stares that were being thrown my way from Zeirik and Victoria. He'd noticed something was wrong but couldn't hear what had been said. Victoria stood next to the king, her face pinched with curiosity and suspicion, clearly frustrated at being excluded.

I forced my expression to smooth out, pulling on years of courtly training. "Thank you for coming, Your Majesty."

Melbourne nodded, satisfied, then turned to leave.

Victoria moved closer, her perfume cloying and too sweet. "Opportunist whore," she hissed, just loud enough for me to hear.

I smiled at her, bright and empty. "Thank you for coming."

Her face went red, but before she could respond, Hana approached. The pregnant woman placed one hand protectively over her belly, her smile sweet as poisoned honey.

"I wish you a happy married life," she said.

"Likewise," I replied, forcing warmth into my voice though I didn't mean a word of it.
I really really hope she'll make Cassien just as miserable and bitter as he's made me.

Hana's gaze drifted to Zeirik, lingering on him with a strange look that I couldn't quite name. Something hungry and calculating. Something that made a strange protective instinct flare hot in my chest and I immediately stepped in between them and gave her a tighter smile.

Then she left.

Zeirik's arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me close against his side. His cold skin seeped through the fabric of my dress, but somehow it was comforting. A roguish grin stretched his lips as he looked down at me.

"Now that the boring people are gone," he said, his eyes bright with mischief, "we should have a real wedding party."

The heaviness in my chest eased slightly when I saw his smile. I didn't understand what he meant by a 'real' party, but I found myself nodding anyway.

He led me back toward the building, hishand cold on my shoulder. The small group followed, their voices rising in conversation and laughter.

From the corner of my eye, I caught movement. A flash of blonde hair, blue eyes watching from behind a pillar.

I turned my head, my breath stopping.

Cassien stood there, half-hidden in shadow. Our eyes met across the distance. His face was expressionless, but something in his posture—the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched at his sides—spoke of barely controlled emotion.

Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the depths of the palace.
Gone.