Page 164 of Terror Tuesday
“Then I’m your peasant until death do us part.”
With a laugh, I slip off the window frame and kneel with him, gathering his face in my hands until we kiss each other like that first time.
He breaks away for a moment, his green eyes searching mine.
“This is what I wished for.”
My brow furrows with confusion. “What?”
“The day that I brushed your eyelash off your cheek… I told you I’d tell you someday what I wished for. This was it. To have you as my appointed, my wife,herein our home. To love you forever, the way you deserve. And that’s what I plan to do.”
I can’t stop the quiver in my chin as I release a little sob of happiness.
Now that I’ve become the Monarch… I won’t need that butterfly in my pocket anymore.
I’ll keep her anyway.
Not as a shield, but as a relic.
A reminder of who I was before I burned it all down.
epilogue
“Everything has been set into motion,”I tell my love, squeezing her trembling hand. “All we need to do is make it through this ceremony. Then it will be over.”
Green eyes glance at me with worry. “Are you sure?”
Am I?
No…
The rules and regulations have only worsened because of what we did. To make up for our mistakes, we’ve been working to subvert the board from the inside. Will it make a difference?
With everything we’ve done, itshould. But there’s no guarantee.
“It ends for us today,” I say honestly. “For our brothers and sisters…I don’t know.”
Facing the cathedral’s stone steps, she nods. “We’ll keep working,” she whispers through a tight throat.
A glimmer shines off a tear that’s escaped her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb. Then, stick it in my mouth. Salty…and a hint of her sweetness lingers on my tongue.
“Let’s go.”
We have our plan. One that I hope will work to avoid more eyes on us. Both of us just want to get back to the mansion, have our spring wedding, then disappear while we work on dismantling the society from behind our walls. Her, by writing an anonymous blog, using social media to warn others while digging into the lives of the Damons. Me, doing what I do best.
Trying to find out where the money is going. Though they’ve hidden their tracks well.
As we enter the sanctuary, our footsteps echo on the marble tile floor. The scent of old melted wax and dust consumes the air. Pews are filled with society alumni members, dressed in hooded robes of their house colors, their faces covered in shadows. The wood benches squeak as they all turn to gawk at us, wandering down the red-carpeted aisle.
Her hand trembles as I lead her to the altar, one specifically arranged for her and me. The slab is surrounded by seven robed figures. This is our punishment for not going about our appointment in thecorrectway. Now, we’ll have to pay the price to keep the society enforcers off our backs. For now.
Once we reach the dais, I turn toward my queen and lift her white lace veil as she sinks to her knees in front of me.
We practiced. Rehearsed every line. The words are meaningless to me, but when she gazes up into my eyes, my stomach flips, and I want to propose to her all over again.
Solemnly, she states, “I pledge fealty to fidelity, a covenant to constancy, and an oath to obedience.” Her sweet voice echoes through the buttressed ceiling.
Through a tight throat, I manage to say, “Then I appoint you as my vassal.”
