Page 6 of Stars May Burn

I blinked back sudden tears. Maybe this would be bearable if it made my sisters so happy. I never wanted them to go through what I had. I could endure the uphill struggle so they didn’t have to, and Irabel could always remain that carefree.

Miss Claris finally freed the corset. “I will send for the dressmaker at once. Three days is not long to make sure you have a dress worthy of the newspapers. All eyes are going to be on our family, my lady. You can’t afford to be anything but perfect.”

Miss Claris had been right. Three days wasn’t long at all.

The skirts of my ivory dress were so long, the silk whispered as it dragged and slithered over the cold flagstones of the aisle. I kept my back straight and my footsteps short as I’d been taught. The clip clop of my heels echoed sharply around the silent chapel. I almost expected to see Frederick’s coffin at the front of the church. Haunting me. Accusing me of something I didn’t do. Making me feel helpless and small all over again.

But no. I would have a new husband now.

Step. Step. Step.

Although my husband-to-be had royal blood, few people stood in the steeply-tiered seats for the wedding. It had been an incredibly rushed affair, after all. The only person of note was the Second Prince Clarence and the gaggle of adolescent nobility who accompanied him everywhere. The fourteen-year-old slouched, whispering to a companion as if he would rather be anywhere else. Irabel kept glancing at him with a not-so-subtle smile while Claribel gave her warning glances. Irabel would feel Father’s cane if she wasn’t careful.

Step. Step. Step.

I caught the word “shameless,” hissed in my direction but didn’t turn my head to find the source. I didn’t need anything else to increase my nerves. I focused my eyes ahead and ignored everything else.

General Batton stood at the end of the aisle, bolt straight and in his military uniform. His black hair was neatly oiled so his fringe arched to one side above his forehead, and he wore a fiercely determined expression as if about to ride into a bloody battle. I hid a flicker of nervous amusement. Was I really so scary? My humor dried. No. He was probably steeling himself to marry me. I suspected he had been forced into this for reasons I was unaware of. Father was like that, brilliant and ruthless. He could manipulate everyone into doing what he wanted. I doubted even illegitimate princes were beyond his schemes.

I reached my soon-to-be-husband and turned to stand opposite him, concentrating on controlling my breathing. The gaze of the onlookers bored into me, their whispers spoken behind feathered fans clogging my ears and burning my cheeks. I wasn’t the only one confused about why this wedding was happening and in such a rush. Frederick wasn’t yet cold in the ground.

I braved a glance at General Kasten Batton. He loomed over me. Now that I was close, I was shocked by how young he was to have such a dark presence; his skin was perfectly smooth apart from a scar above one eyebrow and serious grooves bracketing his mouth. He had no laughter lines. His countenance was always so severe and his exploits so well known, I had forgotten he wasn’t even close to thirty yet.

His expression was one of resolve, and his stance was formal. His most striking feature was the shape of his eyes. They were long and narrow and angular—almost sharp. And they were deep set, the shadows in the corners further enhancing their length, and turning the darkness of his pupils to black. The shape made him appear older, more serious, maybe even brutal. Even if he smiled, the shape of his eyes would make him look cruel. Something about them chilled me, leaching any warmth from inside me. The rest of his face was also distinctive. It was broad, with a large nose but a delicate triangular chin and thick lips. His chin and lips should have made him seem feminine, but nothing about him was soft. His pronounced cheekbones made his face appear slightly gaunt.

It was the sort of face that one would study, unsure whether its unusual nature made it attractive or merely striking. But I could only hold the gaze of those eyes for a few seconds. To me, his face spelled danger.

I wasn’t sure where to look, even through the protection of the thin white veil covered in Irabel’s crystals, so I stared at the rows of buttons down his long, smart coat. Each one had a hawk head engraved in curling lines that reminded me of fire. He wore a ceremonial sword with rubies on the hilt, but otherwise his outfit was unadorned for somebody of his station. I hoped he didn’t find me frivolous in comparison. My dress was covered in yellow ribbons to signify the color of my house and silk roses and lace. Exactly how Father liked to wrap me up to present me. He always said we had to overcompensate for our bloodline. We had to be the best dressed, the most fashionable, and immaculately polite to show that we belonged.

The general didn’t have to do any of that. He simply was.

I knew next to nothing about his personal life—the same as everyone I had spoken to. He was an enigma I would have to learn fast if I was to make the best of this situation. Would he be better or worse than Frederick? Or was it awful of me to compare them at all?

I looked down at my feet and steadied my heart. I had a lot to offer. I could run a household efficiently. I was good with numbers. I could look and walk and talk with perfect etiquette. I could host a party or a ball, and I knew not to intrude on his privacy. This was a challenge I was equipped for. I had to trust in that. Even so, a slight tremble ran down my arms.

The priest had stopped speaking. It was time for the vows. The older man placed my hand on top of the general’s as he wrapped a delicate golden chain around them. I held my breath as the silk of my glove brushed his skin. It felt strange to be touching the man who was such a gravitating presence in every room he entered. The general’s hands were long and slender, and I noticed a scar running from his knuckles to his wrist.

We repeated our vows, both our voices sounding wooden, and the golden chain was removed. But I knew the reality; it was still there, tying us together until death. And as much as I didn’t understand this wedding or the general, I didn’t want to lose a second husband. I wished him a healthy, happy, long life as any wife should.

My corset felt even tighter as heavy incense wafted around, and I struggled to breathe through the thick clouds that caught in my throat. The general took my arm, and I walked quickly down the aisle by his side, eager to be back in the fresh late spring air.

I was glad there wasn’t going to be a party that I had to stand and smile through. Time had been too limited to prepare for me to be a good hostess, and the general had stated he had pressing business to attend to in his lands. Father only wanted me wed and gone; the political connection was there, whether we had a party to celebrate or not. This saved him money, although, Father had stated publicly that a party would bring me too many painful memories of Frederick.

General Batton indicated a carriage on the opposite side of the street without speaking. It was painted silver and pale blue with the crest of Kasomere on the side: a hawk carrying an apple in one talon, an arrow in the other. Now it was my crest too.

“Wait here.” His tone reminded me of a commander ordering his troops. He went to call the carriage over.

I waited with my gloved hands clasped in front of me, smiling as I accepted congratulations from the people sweeping out from the church behind me. They bobbed around with polite smiles and amused eyes. Father was nowhere to be seen. He was probably lingering inside talking to business partners. My sisters, brother, and stepmother were chatting with guests as they passed through the door.

The carriage pulled up in front of me, and onlookers lifted pale blue and yellow handkerchiefs, shaking them in the air to send us off. The colors of my new house and the house I was leaving behind. General Batton opened the carriage door as soon as it halted. He held it for me, extending his other arm. I murmured my thanks as he helped me up the two steps. His larger form blocked out the light as he climbed in behind me.

The door clicked shut, and he let the gauzy curtains fall across the windows.

Sound became muffled. It was just him and me.

There was a sudden scrabbling at the opposite door, the side of the carriage that faced the road and the park opposite the church. I edged away from the noise as I looked at my new husband in alarm.

His expression didn’t change as he opened the door. A man who must have been hiding under the carriage scrambled in. He was filthy and dressed in browns and blacks, a cap on his head.

---