Page 13 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
The priest inclined his head in return, though he did not seem convinced. “Forgive my doubts. The hurried nature of this wedding gives rise to questions.”
“There wasn’t much time to prepare,” Achilles answered. “We’re leaving for Tirreoy tonight.”
“So I heard.” The man seemed like he’d say more but then shook his head with another sad smile. “You will be in my parish down there. I hope to see you come to church frequently.”
Before he could answer, they were interrupted with the back door opening. Achilles swung around and caught his breath at the sight of Bris. Her black hair was caught up in a loose knot at the back of her head with curls escaping around her face. Her eyes—those stunning hazel Tyndarian eyes—looked larger than he’d ever seen them.
She carried Livvy’s bouquet of white roses intertwined with jasmine and cascading ivy that she’d caught from earlier. And she’d found fashionable ivory heels that matched perfectly with an ethereal gown that belonged to a fairy. Somehow with such short notice, she’d gotten a white dress that moved with each graceful movement of her legs, silky, elegant, and with a slit that made his mouth go dry.
This would be his wife.
He gulped, trying to keep his cool, but he knew he was failing horribly. He was fumbling through his pockets, touching a ring… reminding himself that he had nothing for her… and finally, he ran his fingers through his hair, undoing all the good he’d tried to do with it earlier.
Her father came up behind her like a shadow. His hands clamped over her delicate arms like a manacle. Nothing served as a better reminder that this was against Bris’s will. She was as much a prisoner as he was.
His throat tightened. She’d hate him. Achilles had better remember that tonight. This was no eager bride waiting for their alone time together. No, his father had decided to play puppet master, instead, tying them up in their own strings and choking out all possible happiness that they might’ve had together if he’d just left them alone. His bitterness consumed him.
Behind Bris and her father, a familiar redhead showed up with her camera phone. He stiffened. Deedee? He wasn’t able to invite a single friend, and yet, Venice’s ex-girlfriend was the one person allowed to come? It made sense in a strange way. She’d get the word spread of their nuptials out into the world in an instant.
He tried to ignore her breathless grin as she rushed into the room, her gold bridesmaid’s dress floating behind her quick steps. Her smugness showed him that she had no idea that thismarriage was against both of their wills, only that she’d been right about them all along.
Deedee gave him a small, brisk wave. He managed a tense nod in response while she scrambled around Bris and her father and slid into the front seat. The podcaster in her was too strong to take an unobtrusive spot in the back. Her camera phone was on him the whole time.
This meant Venice would find out about this soon… and Gena. His heart went out to his sister. All thoughts of everything else flooded from his mind when Bris stepped in front of him with her bouquet and an anxious expression.
She was scared! He stopped himself from gathering her close to his chest. Her father stood rigidly behind her, his heavyset eyes watching him like he’d try to sprout wings and fly away. Achilles would have to wait for when they were finally alone to act like a normal person around her.
“My dear,” Nestor began. “Before we begin, I would like to know if you have any questions for me… any… uh concerns?”
Her father’s quick intake of breath was a hiss behind them.
Her hands tightened on the bouquet. “Concerns?” she muttered with pale lips. “Are we allowed to have those?” Achilles’s noticed the strain on her knuckles. Glancing back at her father, she squared her shoulders and shook her head. “I’m great,” she answered, and not very convincingly.
“Briseis,” he whispered to her. This couldn’t wait any longer. “Look at me.”
Her eyes focused on him, and he watched her shoulders relax, just like when they’d been kids and he’d taught her to mount an unruly horse without fear. He reached for her then, untangling her fingers from the bouquet and handing the flowers over to the priest so that he could take her hands that trembled in his. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” That didn’t sound convincing.
“Listen to me,” he said quietly, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “Whatever happens after this ceremony, whatever threats or demands are made, we face it together. You’re not alone in this anymore.” He squeezed her hands gently, ignoring the way Chises Mnon’s eyes narrowed on them from behind her. “Now tell me, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said louder, and this time her chin lifted with something that looked like her old defiance breaking through the fear. The trembling in her hands stilled. They’d get through this together.
She didn’t turn away from him for the rest of the ceremony.
The rest of the world blurred around him, and he concentrated on her in return, feeling his own heart pumping harder against his chest, not because he was stressed out of his mind, but only that watching her always had that effect on him.
The priest was asking him a question. Glancing over at him, he watched Nestor’s expectant expression. “I do,” Achilles said quickly.
Was that the right answer?
Apparently so because they continued on. Bris’s expressive lips moved over her own answer. “I do.” It came out another whisper. Her eyes watered.
He felt like a beast, except her hands tightened on his, and amazingly, he felt her thumb rub against his in solace. Was she actually trying to comfort him instead?
“Do you have your rings?” Nestor asked.
No.
