Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
There was a mass of at least a hundred people, mostly mine, dressed in flowing gowns of black and masks of white.
It was their job to look like my servants.
And it was my job to wear the only mask that could be picked out amongst the crowd, all but one.
Violet Abandonato.
Hers was a simple red.
It symbolized her blood joining with mine.
A twinge of horror washed over me as I gripped the stairwell the way I’d done so many times when I was young, when I had zero cares, when I had no idea what this life was and why I was raised like a bastard for a few years and then later, like untouchable royalty.
I could still see the smoke stains on the marble even though they were long gone. I could still hear my mom’s screams even though she was buried in the cold hard ground.
And my own screams?
I heard them too.
Over and over on endless repeat, right along with my confessions.
Because, of course, this had to be my fault.
Everything else was.
Glinka, one of my favorite composers, filled the room as I descended.
As they watched in awe.
Because their king was finally returning to his throne.
I held my head high as I walked.
And protected my heart from the curious stares like daggers to my soul. I was not safe here. Then again, with me in the room, neither were they.
“This way…” Sancto took me to the ballroom. I walked down the aisle, my legs filled with lead as people lowered their heads in respect.
And when I reached the Orthodox Priest, he gave me a smile that was so sad, I almost lost my nerve.
Instead, I turned, and I waited for my bride.
Abandonato today and tonight a Petrov.
Forever.
Yet again, ruling both families in a way that was more pure than Andrei himself.
Moonlight flickered into the room as candles seemed to pick up wind that didn’t exist inside the house. Typically, the venchanie or the crowning wedding took place in the morning, but nobody wanted us to wait. I think they were more afraid we would talk and run in the opposite direction of each other.
Whispers picked up around the room.
And then, there she was.
A strong, unwavering flower holding her head high despite the storm threatening to sink her to the depths of Hell.
We locked eyes, though she could barely see mine as she made her way down the aisle by herself.
My fingers itched to stop the ceremony.
To meet her halfway.
To tell her how damn sorry I was—about everything.
And all the things left unsaid that still needed to be discussed but would forever be a black spot on my heart, my soul.
Her dress was blood-red, with a cape that fell like a veil past her a few feet. Her creamy skin was heaven brought down to earth as her chest rose and fell like the wings of a mockingbird or a maybe a butterfly. Her breathing was erratic, but then again, so was mine.
I held out my hand when she reached me.
And I took it with pride as the Petrov ring pressed against her knuckle, as we knelt in front of the priest and said our vows.
“I, Valerian Petrov,” I said in a slight accent that I couldn’t help even if I tried out of nerves. “Take Violet Abandonato as my now, my forever, my future, my eternity. With this ring, I thee wed.” I slid the heirloom ring onto her left third finger, three karats of blood-red ruby that had been in my family for generations.
“Violet,” said the priest, switching to English. “Do you take Valerian Petrov to be your wedded husband…”
I lost all focus when she squeezed my hand, her crystal blue eyes were clear as glass, she shuddered and lowered her head.
I reached my free hand out, palm up, and caught the tear that fell. My heart shook as her lips trembled like she wasn’t sure she could say the words, let alone go through with it.
“Be strong,” I encouraged in a barely-there whisper.
She swallowed and then looked at me and said, “Yes.”
It was all that mattered, her yes.
Because she was mine.
And I was not giving her back.
Not after all this time.
Never.
Mine.
A part of me died while another part was somehow reborn with that stare she gave me.
Slowly she pulled out my ring, it was a simple silver, she slid it past my knuckle onto my finger.
And then it was done, wasn’t it?
We were both handed gold wine goblets, and even though she had no idea what was going on, I did.
I wrapped my arm around hers as we did a small circle around the large table in front of the priest, and then I repeated the words that would alter us forever.
“I, Valerian Petrov, take the position as head. I am no longer the tail. I will lead this Family into prosperity with my bride by my side.” Cheers erupted as we finished the circle and drank from our goblets.