Page 55 of Under the Lion Star

“Right,” I nodded.

We exited my quarters and made our way through the castle halls until we entered the throne room. I hadn’t been inside since my parents funeral, but Sanna had transformed the space into something no longer haunted by the ghosts of memories.

I couldn’t help but smile, seeing my sister’s touch on every surface. The rows of chairs had all been arranged, wrapped with silver fabric. Nearly every seat was already full, and those who hadn’t received formal invitations stood along the edges of the space.

Birds sang their songs, the sounds filtering in through the open windows along with a slight breeze. Murmurs of pleasant conversations continued as Orin, Liras, and Atlas took their places at the base of the dais.

Sanna had even decorated the two thrones, which had been my parents’ for my entire life. Pale gray lace draped on either side of each chair, fashioned with floral arrangements that morphed their typically grim appearance into something much softer.

The cleric stood between each seat of authority, giving me a kind smile before gesturing to the string quartet.

Everyone went silent as the music started, and the double doors opened, revealing my sister, Mera, and Nima all carrying matching bundles of wildflowers.

The rest of the Helner family sat in the front row, along with Z’s aunt, cousin, and grandmother. The latter of which looked me up and down before giving me a suggestive wink.

Sanna and Zialda’s two sisters took their places opposite Atlas and my brothers.

The song changed, and Erik stood in the doorway, holding his arm out. Then Zialda came into view as everyone else in the realm faded away. She was stunning—a woman whose beauty reflected the incredible person that lay within.

Her dress was deep silver silk, adorned with white lace that continued down her slender arms. The white strands of her hair fell around her in loose waves, framing her face and enhancing her bright silver eyes.

She smiled at me as she approached, and I had to repeatedly remind both my heart and my dick that this was not a real marriage. Zialda was my friend. She was doing this to help me, to help her sisters, to help Fjorn.

Erik gave me a sad smile as he approached. Her father handed her off to me, and our hands met. The immediate comfort that overtook me once our skin touched had the weight I’d held in my shoulders dissipating. The ever-present list of things going wrong in my life silenced, allowing me to experience this moment. With Z. My queen.

“I’ll take care of her,” I quietly assured Z’s dad while she handed off her bouquet to Nima.

“It’s not her I’m worried about, son,” he frowned, patted me on the shoulder, and took his seat.

The cleric spoke, but I didn’t hear much of what he said. Zialda bowed slightly as I lifted the crown I had commissioned for her and placed it atop her head.

The jeweler had done fantastic work. Thin gold bands curled around in elaborate patterns, and yellow marquee diamonds were situated to make it appear as if it were made of the tops of wheat stalks. It was perfect for her, and when she lifted her eyes to mine, she looked every bit the Queen of Fjorn.

That’s my girl.

When the cleric finally permitted me to kiss my wife, I didn’t hesitate, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her body to mine. Our mouths met as if they were made for one another, her soft lips parting slightly.

Suddenly aware of the audience, I kept the kiss appropriate enough not to scar my sister for life and pulled back to look at Zialda. She was smiling, and so was I.

“I get my own throne?” She whispered, gesturing to the chair. “Right next to yours?”

“That’s where you belong,” I smiled, my heart warming.

“I figured I’d have to stand or prop on the arm of yours. Good to know I have my own place to sit,” she smiled.

I’d rather you sit on my face.

As the weight began to lift from my shoulders, I realized that this was precisely what I hadn’t wanted. I didn’t have the means to properly care for this woman, but my brain refused to imagine a life where she and I were only friends. And, fuck, did I desperately want to kiss her again. Thoughts raged, but I pushed them away. The only thing I was certain of was that I was well and truly fucked.

“We look forward to seeing you in your first council meeting, my queen,” Lord Corrin bowed deeply, making his way from the head table and ending the line of highborn families who had approached to pay their respects.

“Can we fucking eat now?” Zialda whispered out of the side of her mouth, keeping the artificial smile she’d plastered on.

I laughed but looked to Atlas first, who gave me a nod, letting me know that our meals had been tested and deemed safe.

“Dig in, wife,” I nudged her elbow.

She didn’t hesitate but ate much slower than she had at the tavern. I hated that decorum kept her from acting how she wanted. It was something I’d been raised with, but I didn’t want our marriage to dampen any of what made her Zialda.

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