“Announcing the arrival of King Elon and… his lovely bride and queen, Carissa.”
Elon straightened, pride swelling within him at the announcement. He remembered the day he’d left the palace, how he’d stared towards the City of Zonah, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest, his palms clammy. The journey had officially been to reinforce Zonah, but in truth, he’d gone hoping it’d give Carissa a chance to find him. He’d known before going that if Carissa didn’t come to him then, it was unlikely she ever would.
When he’d arrived, he’d been tempted to tear the city apart and turn it upside down until he found her. And then he’d woo her until she was so madly in love with him, she would beg to be his wife.
Instead, he’d only allowed himself one tiny glimpse of her in the pub. He’d given her a generous tip, when really he’d rather have given her a generous kiss, while wrapping her in his arms and professing his love for her. Of course, that future would have seen him soundly slapped. Elon suppressed a smile at the thought.
As their shoes clinked against the marble steps, the nobles clustered together, whispers bristling from their puckered lips.
A glance at Carissa revealed she’d tilted her head down, her hair an obsidian curtain. She was embarrassed, as was expected. But she’d become accustomed to the attention in time.
If only she’d lift her head, so he could better see her expression. When she blushed, it wasn’t a mere reddening of her cheeks, as if she’d dabbed on rouge. Pink flooded her entire face. A lovely shade of pink, the color of rose petals and sunrises. Yet another thing he adored about her.
She glanced up at him, a question sparkling in her breath-taking blue eyes. The color of her gown brought out their color, making them impossibly vivid. “Elon?”
“Hmm?”
“Aren’t we supposed to…” She nodded towards the other couples, who’d begun dancing with the music—and who were staring at them in curiosity and confusion.
Ah. It seemed they’d arrived at the ballroom floor. And that the music had started. And balls were supposed to be for dancing, not staring at one’s lovely wife. Or perhaps he could do both.