Page 152 of The Mad King and the False Queen

Then Dagmara saw him. He was at the top of the staircase, his hands clasped behind his back, in white attire. A white cape fluttered behind him, stitched in silver. He looked like a knight in shining armor. Or rather, a king.

Her king.

The world faded away, the music a distant lullaby. She ignored the hushed voices of the crowd, unable to take her eyes off Claude. She had never seen him more handsome. His expression softened when he saw her, expressions of pride, lust, and yearning crossing his features.

She ascended the stairs, willing her health to be kind to her for once in her life. She needed to get through today. That was all.

She felt her heart rate increase with each step she took, but she was nearing Claude, and she focused solely on him.

When she reached the top, Claude took her hands, and it was as if electricity rushed through her body. By the guardians, she wanted to grab his face and kiss him then and there. He had hidden his scar once more, but she would’ve preferred to see his true self.

“You’re stunning,” Claude whispered as the maidens fixed Dagmara’s dress.

“Thank you, but you’re…you’re stunning as well.”

A soft laugh escaped his lips. His smile was captivating.

The officiant proceeded with the ceremony, starting with a long list of what they should and shouldn’t do in marriage. Then the ceremonial caster arrived, the Azuremi tradition, and Claude and Dagmara interlocked their hands before reaching them into the liquid. As soon as it molded around their grasp to later become a sculpture, another maiden washed the excess of the casting liquid off their palms.

At that point, Dagmara knew she had been standing for too long. She could feel darkness dancing in the corner of her vision, her stomach roiling with nausea. The world began to tilt.

“Are you alright?” Claude whispered. The officiant could hear, but none of the guests in attendance did.

“Lightheaded, but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a good thing we all kneel for the next portion of the ceremony.”

“We do?”

Claude glanced at the officiant. “Right?”

Initiating the sequence, Claude knelt, leaning back on his heels to face Dagmara. Dagmara followed his lead, and her maidens frantically rushed to readjust her gown. She hadn’t read about this anywhere, and deep down she knew Claude was doing this just for her.

The officiant let out a scoff before clumsily taking one knee, guiding them into the vows.

“My partner, my better half, my queen,” Claude said in Azuremi for her. “I will put you first, keep you safe, and never leave your side. Whatever the world may bring, we will face hand in hand.” Then he extended his palm toward the officiant. The man pricked Claude’s finger, extracting a single drop of blood. It landed in a concave spot on the backside of a ring. The diamond gemstone was then closed, concealing the drop of blood inside. Claude took Dagmara’s hand and put the ring on her middle finger. “With my blood, I am yours.”

Dagmara was about to proceed into her vows. She was binding her life to this man, whether she remained married to him or not. There was no turning back. If she and Magda switched places now, even if no one noticed, it would always be Dagmara’s blood inside Claude’s wedding ring. A piece of her would always belong to Claude somehow.

“My partner, my better half, my king,” Dagmara began her side of the vows, hoping her Ilusaurian was intelligible. By his smile, she couldn’t tell if it was awful or if he found her accent adorable. “I will put you first, keep you safe, and never leave your side. Whatever the world may bring, we will face hand in hand.” She repeated the same Ilusaurian tradition. The prick of her finger stung, but she didn’t mind. With a drop of her blood in his ring, she guided it onto his finger. “With my blood, I am yours.”

“For the betterment of our kingdoms,” he whispered.

She smiled. “And the safety of our people.”

He stood first before helping her to her feet. She felt secure with his guidance. Then they descended the staircase, hand in hand, before the music shifted to the Azuremi waltz.

They danced with one another, their bodies moving perfectly in time, his cape fluttering behind him. Her chest was pressed against his, and his arms supported her. She was lost in his eyes, and it was as if no one else existed.

As the song came to a close, they remained in one another’s arms, unable to break apart.

His hand shifted from her back to her neck, cradling her head. Leaning closer, he rested his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, breathing in his cologne and knowing there was no other place in the world she would rather be.

“I want to respect your Azuremi traditions,” he whispered, “but why must I wait until midnight to kiss you?”

“By the guardians, that is the worst tradition ever,” she laughed. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Their noses were touching. “I want you to kiss me.”

“I will kiss every inch of your body, and more,” he said. “I would take you right now in front of all these people.”

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