Page 16 of The Curse Between Us

For the upper part of his body, the shirt was made of white linen, cut with an elegant, almost ethereal drape. There was a slight, subtle texture to the fabric, so fine it was hard to detect unless you looked closely. The collar and cuffs were delicate, with faint lines of silver embroidery that gave the impression of intricate design without overwhelming the fabric. Fortunately, Rafrian formal wear covered the arms entirely, unlike the more casual outfits that often left them bare to the elements. This was particularly important to Zephyr, who could not bear the thought of being exposed under the harsh sun, especially in front of so many onlookers.

And as he had requested, gloves covered his hands, a necessary precaution given the Eskarven “tradition” he had insisted upon. These gloves, black leather, were adorned with small buttons that matched the ones on his boots, adding a cohesive touch to the ensemble. Skye had been diligent in making sure every detail was accounted for, ensuring that no part of the outfit seemed out of place.

"White for the shirt," Skye explained with the enthusiasm of someone who truly loved their craft. "With silver embroidery to match the buttons on the boots. Black leather for the gloves." She paused, glancing at the ring on Zephyr’s hand. It was a simple piece, but one of great personal significance. A silver band with a sapphire gemstone, a gift from his mother before he left Eskarven. "And," she continued, "if I can find such a thing in the royal treasury, a silver and sapphire pendant to match this."

Zephyr felt a tightness in his chest as he looked down at his hand. The ring was more than just an accessory. It was a reminder of who he was and where he came from, a symbol ofthe burden he bore. His mother’s legacy. And now, he was about to take part in an alliance that would shape the future of both his people and Edric’s. The gravity of it all settled heavily on him.

“It’s lovely,” Zephyr said softly, almost to himself. And it was. Simple yet striking. The outfit spoke to the part of him that longed for Eskarven, for the life he had left behind, for the people who depended on him. And yet, it was also a representation of the future, one that he had chosen to build alongside Edric. He swallowed roughly, lifting his gaze from the page to meet Skye’s eyes. “Thank you.”

She returned his smile, her expression softening with a trace of sympathy. "It is my pleasure, Your Highness," she said warmly, sensing the quiet conflict in him. "Now," she waved him back toward the center of the room, "let’s get you properly measured so I may begin my work. A contract for a royal wedding, and with such short notice! What a thrill this is."

Zephyr couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Despite the weight of the occasion, Skye’s energy was a welcome distraction, a reminder that not everything about this union had to be burdened with politics and diplomacy. Skye, at least, seemed unperturbed by the idea of his marriage to Edric. It was reassuring, in its own way. Despite the grumbling of a few vocal opponents, there were others who would support them, who believed in the peace they were striving for. It was a small, but important comfort.

As Skye worked, draping bolts of cloth against his frame, tightening them in places and loosening them in others, Zephyr stood patiently, enduring the precise measurements and muttering under her breath. The sunlight pouring through the windows bathed the room in a soft golden hue, but it was making Zephyr feel faint. The warmth was beginning to get to him, and the headache that had been lurking at the edges of his consciousness now began to throb in earnest at his temples.He gritted his teeth, refusing to let it show, and held himself upright, despite the growing discomfort.

"How do you plan to dress King Edric?" Zephyr asked, his voice soft but curious, hoping the question would distract him from the painful pressure building in his head.

Skye glanced up at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Now, don’t you want to be surprised by the sight of your betrothed? I can’t tell you that, Your Highness," she said with a wink, clearly enjoying the mystery of it all.

Zephyr chuckled softly, the sound strained, though he did his best to keep his composure. "This entire betrothal is a surprise," he muttered under his breath. What kind of surprise it was—well, that remained to be seen.

Skye’s refusal to divulge any details about Edric’s wedding outfit didn’t deter Zephyr for long. She was more than happy to share what to expect during the ceremony, and despite the differences in tradition, he found that the process wasn’t so unfamiliar after all. The customs might have differed in some ways, but the essential structure of the ceremony was the same. There would be vows, of course, and formal declarations, and the joining of their two kingdoms would be symbolized through the exchange of rings and other ceremonial gestures. The setting would be drastically different, with the grand halls of Rafria far more opulent than the simple stone temple in Eskarven, but Zephyr found himself breathing easier as Skye spoke. It seemed that, despite the cultural differences, there was no chance he would make a fool of himself, no chance he would inadvertently embarrass Edric—or himself—during the ceremony.

The reassurance, however small, helped steady his nerves. There would be a thousand eyes on them during the ceremony, but for now, in this quiet room with the sun warming his face and the gentle hum of Skye’s voice as she worked, he allowed himself to breathe just a little easier.

???

He and Edric had not seen much of one another over the past few days, Zephyr having been confined to his chambers under the orders of Herbert, who had insisted on the necessity of keeping Zephyr in isolation for his own protection. "For your own safety," Herbert had said, his tone flat and devoid of any apology, as though Zephyr’s confinement were merely a matter of fact. "Once the marriage is finalized and the alliance is cemented..."

The thought of being able to move freely about the castle after the wedding day was one of the few things Zephyr looked forward to. It was a small consolation in an otherwise tense and suffocating situation. He wasn’t accustomed to the idle hours spent in one room, however grand it was. Even though the chambers were well-appointed, the sheer silence and isolation had begun to wear on him. It felt like being trapped, and the anticipation of the wedding had only made the time feel longer.

Now, standing at the window as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Zephyr found a fleeting sense of calm. The warmth of the fading day gradually softened into a mild breeze that filtered through the open window, lifting his hair from his forehead and allowing him to breathe a little easier. There was a soothing stillness to the world outside, as if the evening itself held a quiet promise. For a moment, he could pretend that everything was normal, that nothing beyond these walls was complicated or pressing. But the thought didn’t last long.

A light tap at the door startled him, and he instinctively dropped his hand to his hip before remembering, once again, that he had no weapon there. The reflex had become almost automatic. It wasn’t as if there was any real danger, but theabsence of a weapon was a constant reminder of how disarmed he truly was in this foreign place.

"Come in," he called out, his voice a little louder than he intended. He half-expected it to be one of the guards, perhaps Eileen or Victor, who had been assigned to keep watch over him in rotating shifts. He appreciated their visits even if they served only to remind him of his strange position—caught somewhere between being a welcome guest and a prisoner under constant surveillance. But to his surprise, it wasn’t one of the guards who entered the room.

It was Edric, and he closed the door firmly behind him with a quiet, almost hesitant click. Zephyr felt a brief surge of concern, his mind instantly racing through potential reasons why Edric might be here, alone, at this hour. He stepped forward, instinctively seeking to close the distance between them. "What is it? Has something happened?" His voice carried a trace of worry that he couldn’t fully mask.

Edric blinked at him, his brow furrowing in confusion, before he shook his head. "No. Not as far as I know. I just…" He paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "We’ve barely seen each other these past few days. And tomorrow—"

"Tomorrow is our wedding day," Zephyr finished, his voice soft. He gestured to the table, urging Edric to sit, before taking the seat across from him himself. As much as he wanted to reach out, to close the gap between them, there was a weight in the air that held him back. His hands folded neatly in front of him on the wooden surface as he met Edric’s gaze. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Edric’s eyes widened, his expression full of surprise at the suggestion. But beneath it, Zephyr could almost feel the subtle flicker of hurt. "No, of course not," Edric replied quickly, but Zephyr could detect the hesitation, the underlying uncertainty in his voice. "Are you?"

If nothing else, Zephyr thought, they ought to be honest with each other. He had already admitted his doubts in private to himself, but it was another matter entirely to voice them aloud. He shrugged, a slight, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Second. Third. Fourth. Fifth, I’ve lost count." The words came out more casually than he intended, but the discomfort was clear. The truth was, he couldn’t deny it. There had been countless moments where he had wondered if they were truly doing the right thing. Yet every time, the answer was the same: they had no choice. "And I always arrive at the same conclusion: we are doing the right thing."

Edric’s tense posture slowly relaxed, his body language shifting as he let out a long, deep breath. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice soft with acceptance. "I believe we are." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Though I still find myself nervous."

The admission caught Zephyr off guard. There was something deeply vulnerable in Edric’s words, something Zephyr hadn’t expected. It felt like Edric was offering a piece of himself, uncertain of how it would be received, yet trusting enough to let it go. Zephyr’s heart clenched in his chest at the realization, and for a brief moment, he longed to reach across the table, to take Edric’s hand as a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken weight they both carried.

"Would you have been nervous," Zephyr asked abruptly, the question surprising even him, "were it Marsh you were marrying and not me?" The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but he hadn’t dared to voice it until now. For all that he was part of this marriage by necessity, he had never stopped to consider how Edric might have imagined a different future—one that hadn’t involved him at all. For Zephyr, at least, his own wedding day had always been a vague, hazy thought, and whileit was taking form in unexpected ways, it wasn’t as if it had replaced any other significant dream.

To Edric’s credit, he considered the question carefully, his brow furrowing as he weighed his response. "No," he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. "But it would not have mattered in quite the same way. It would have been strategic, and expected, and comfortable for the both of us. There would be nothing to be nervous about."

Zephyr felt a strange pang in his chest at Edric’s words. "Surely you would have preferred that," he said, unable to stop the bitterness creeping into his tone.

Edric shook his head, his expression firm. "No. There would have been nothing to be nervous about, because there would have been very little at stake." He looked at Zephyr then, his gaze steady. "I am not mourning the loss of what might have been, Zephyr, I swear to you."

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