Page 95 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“Let’s do this thing,” Willow snaps, her usual cheerful tone cracking at the end, as though the ceremony—the thing—repulses her. Ezra’s face falls, but the groom faithfully steps up to the altar.
Mabel gives us quick instructions on where to stand and how to behave. I follow along carefully—until the worst possible interruption yanks me out of my reverie, shattering the waking dream of standing opposite Aidan at the altar.
“They told me you were in here, darling.” Zeke is dressed in the dark glamour of his court, shadows curling along his shoulders as he smiles at me like we’re not only betrothed but thrilled to be so. He salutes the Summer Queen with a gracious bow. “It’s such an honor for my precious Lizzie and me to be part of the wedding party, Your Majesty.”
Chapter 29
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Zeke’s arms curl around my shoulders as the wedding rehearsal comes to an end, ushering me away from the Summer royal family and into his dark, smokey embrace.
“You look gorgeous, moth,” he whispers in my ear.
“My name is Elizabeth,” I grit through my teeth, the weight of his hand on my bare shoulder so bothersome that I have to concentrate hard not to shrug it off.
His eyes narrow at my obvious unease. “My father was pleased to hear you’re Willow’s kindred, so he decided to send me in his stead, since we’re engaged and all.” He offers me his arm. “Let me show you to our table.”
Ourtable.
The warning in his voice is thick. I glare at his outstretched arm but finally take it, knowing better than to make a scene in front of Thera.
I’m well aware that our engagement isn’t some creepy nightmare I made up, but it feels even more wretched and false than it did that first night in the labyrinth. My heart rebels louder and louder against the idea that I could ever vow to stand by this man’s side forever.
While we were cooped up in the chapel, guests began filtering into the ballroom—at least a hundred patrons clinking glasses in cheers and sampling the finest appetizers from trays floating gracefully around the room.
The grand Summer Court ballroom is poised to receive hundreds more tomorrow, only a select few apparently invited to attend the rehearsal. Zeke guides me straight past what I can only describe as a mountain of gifts toourtable.
“Ezekiel, dear.” A bosomed woman dressed in the most outrageous dress I have ever seen fans herself as she makes her way to us. Her ebony skin glistens under the light of the chandeliers. “It’s a pity your father decided not to attend. I don’t mean to pry, only—he did seem a little worn down at the solstice celebration.”
“Your Majesty, this is Elizabeth Snow, my fiancée,” Zeke offers politely, smoothly bringing me into the conversation despite the rather abrupt way she accosted us.
Zeke might have many, many flaws, but he knows how to conduct himself at a royal dinner party.
I offer Freya Heart a quick curtsy, but she waves her fan in the space between us like she couldn’t be bothered to learn my inconsequential name.
“Your father is well, I hope? With Foghar just around the corner, it’s only natural for us to wonder,” she says.
“Very well indeed. He sent me in his stead because my gorgeous fiancée here is the bride’s kindred.”
Zeke’s hand rests on the small of my back, his shadows clogging my lungs. Just being this close to him irks me, the feel of his thumb running up and down my bare spine crawling under my skin.
Freya finally spares me a full glance. “Are you really? What an honor. I’m afraid I don’t recall meeting you before, Miss Snow, was it?”
“Elizabeth.”
“I’m Freya Heart, the Spring Queen.”
Queen Consort, I add in my head, but curtsy again all the same. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Now, I’d love to have a chat with you later, Ezekiel. I’d rather hope to speak to your father in person before the week is over.”
“And he’ll be honored by your visit, Your Majesty,” Zeke says, his gaze following Freya as she slips away, moving on to other guests, her figure blending into the crowd.
Our table seats six and is right next to the head table, which also has six seats.
Our names are written on little white folded cards, side by side, and the sight twists my stomach as the sprite of ceremony announces the arrival of the royal family. All eyes turn to the chapel entrance, and the queen enters, followed by her husband and the bride and groom.
