Page 55 of A Heart Disguised 1

The cheers reverberated through the hall, a din of joy and celebration that seemed to make the very air vibrate. As my eyes swept across the sea of faces, they landed on Meredith and Bernard. There they stood, tears streaming down their faces as if they were trying to fill the castle moat with their emotion. Even through their watery smiles, I could see the unmistakable pride and joy radiating from them. Their reaction was so heartfelt, sogenuine, that for a moment, I forgot my own nervousness and felt a warmth bloom in my chest.

Before I could fully process the moment, Grand Duke Ignatius approached, his laughter booming over the crowd’s cheers. He clapped Duke Darius on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser man, before turning to me with a grin that threatened to split his face in two.

“Welcome to the fold, Lady Robin,” he said, his voice rich with amusement and warmth. “I hope you’re ready for the adventure of a lifetime.”

I managed a small smile that I hoped conveyed gratitude rather than the overwhelming urge to find a quiet corner and hyperventilate. “Thank you, Your Grace,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “I do so love adventures, especially the ones that begin with legally binding contracts and end with potential political upheaval.”

The grand duke roared with laughter, while Duke Darius’ lips twitched in amusement.

16

Robin

The Great Hall dazzled, a constellation of merriment beneath the vaulted ceiling. I sat at the head of the table, the mountain of food before me serving as both a temptation and a distraction. Every bite was an attempt to anchor myself to the moment and away from thoughts of what awaited once the celebration ceased.

I speared a succulent piece of venison, popping it into my mouth with more enthusiasm than elegance. The din of laughter and chatter from the guests melded into a raucous chorus that underscored my growing anxiety. Meredith and Bernard, lost in a sea of jubilant humans, raised their cups high, their voices mingling with the crowd’s revelry. Their joy was infectious, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude for their unwavering support.

By the hearth, Russet and Fluffy were engaged in a feast of their own, gnawing on bones larger than my forearm. Starling flitted about the table, pecking at a scattering of seeds that had been thoughtfully provided for my winged confidant.

The duke was a vision of composure as he entertained nobles and dignitaries from across Lunaria and beyond. His every gesture exuded confidence, his laughter never quite reachinghis eyes when they occasionally flickered in my direction. His lieutenants, those formidable underlings with their otherworldly features, were in high spirits, their plates piled high with food and goblets brimming with wine.

I was just about to reach for a honeyed pear when Caelum slipped into the seat beside me—Duke Darius’ seat. He grinned, his silver eyes alight with mischief. “You seem rather… relaxed for someone on the precipice of their wedding night,” he remarked, his gaze flicking to my rapidly emptying plate.

I swallowed my mouthful, meeting his gaze with what I hoped was an air of nonchalance. “I’ve found that food is an excellent distraction from thoughts of impending doom,” I replied, my voice tinged with wry humor. “And before you launch into another detailed account of your brother’s demonic prowess, let’s just agree that there are some things a bride shouldn’t know.”

Caelum chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Very well,” he conceded. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you plan to sneak out of your own wedding celebration.”

“Oh, I have it all planned out,” I said, gesturing with my fork. “I’ll stuff myself so full of food that I’ll be too heavy for Duke Darius to carry off. It’s foolproof.”

We shared a conspiratorial grin, our conversation dancing around the elephant—or in this case, the towering demon lord—in the room. Caelum’s company was a welcome balm for my frayed nerves.

Our witty repartee was cut short when Grand Duke Ignatius swooped in, his larger-than-life presence impossible to ignore. With a laugh that echoed through the hall, he hoisted Caelum from his seat, throwing the protesting young demon over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Come on, Caelum,” he boomed. “We’re off to cause some trouble! We’re going to show you how to celebrate in Solarys style!”

I raised a hand in farewell, silently wishing Caelum luck. “Try not to get incinerated!” I called after them, earning a mock glare from Caelum as he was carted away.

No sooner had the two of them disappeared into the throng of guests than the room fell eerily silent. My heart lodged itself in my throat as I turned to find Duke Darius standing beside me, his gold eyes gleaming.

I choked on my wine, my chest constricting as he leaned down, scooping me up into his arms with surprising gentleness. So much for my foolproof plan of being too heavy to carry. The crowd erupted into cheers and raucous laughter as he carried me toward the hall’s massive double doors, my body rigid with a potent cocktail of fear and anticipation.

As we moved through the sea of guests, my heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest. The wedding feast, once a cacophony of celebration, now faded into a distant hum, replaced by the deafening drumbeat of my own racing pulse.

“I hope you enjoyed the feast,” the duke murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Because, my little bird, the real celebration is just beginning.”

I swallowed hard, my wit momentarily deserting me. “The real celebration?” I managed to squeak, my voice trembling with nervous energy. “Is that what we’re calling it now? I was rather hoping for a nice game of chess.”

His chuckle vibrated through me as we ascended the spiraling staircase. I expected him to head toward my quarters—the sanctuary I’d claimed as my own amid this foreign grandeur—but instead, he veered off toward a corridor I had yet to explore.

“And where might we be going?” I asked, striving for nonchalance while inwardly my stomach performed acrobatics worthy of a circus troupe.

“To our master chamber,” he replied, his voice a blend of honey and velvet darkness that could either soothe or smother.

Our? The word stuck in my throat like a thorn. I swallowed hard, the enormity ofourexpanding like a balloon ready to burst. “Ah, yes. Our chamber. Where we’ll… discuss politics and trade agreements, I’m sure.”

A low chuckle rumbled through Duke Darius’ chest. “Oh, my little bird,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “I assure you, what we’ll be discussing will be far more… stimulating than politics.”

The master chamber was a world unto itself—a vast expanse of opulence that seemed to mock my inner turmoil. At its center, a bed of truly imperial proportions commanded attention, its intricately carved mahogany frame rising like a fortress of comfort. Four towering posts, each as thick as a young tree trunk, supported a canopy of shimmering silk that cascaded down in elegant folds. The mattress, piled high with plush pillows in varying shades of crimson and gold, looked soft enough to swallow a person whole. Atop the luxurious sheets, an artful arrangement of silk love hearts and fragrant rose petals created a tableau of romance so elaborate it bordered on the ostentatious. The entire ensemble was less a place for sleep and more a stage set for the most intimate of performances, its grandeur both inviting and intimidating in equal measure.

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