CHAPTER 61…………….
“The bride and groom will now enter.”
At the far end, the high priest, solemn in crimson robes, extended his arm and spoke.
Etisha and Cayenne, hand in hand, walked slowly into the chapel. Soft down feathers lined the carpet beneath their feet, and hundreds of candles glittered along the path.
…Beautiful.
That was the only thought Etisha had.
Whatever becomes of my life, I will never forget today.
Whether she drew closer to Cayenne, or farther away. Until the day she died…
I will never forget.
Since this memory was one she would carry anyway, why not allow herself to savor it? To let go of her tension and the weight on her chest.
Yes. Today is my wedding day.
Only then did she truly see her surroundings.
Her maid Marinne straightening the hem of her dress. Lady Cyrilleze seated at the front. The former duke, Kyles.
Ah, even His Majesty has come.
Emperor Ignivan. His golden hair still shone as brightly as the sun.
Behind him sat foreign royals, nobles of the capital, and the somewhat familiar lords of the north. With only slight exaggeration, it seemed every notable figure in the empire was present.
Every figure but one.
Larienne Heinz.
She was nowhere among the guests. Likely expelled—either at Cayenne’s command, or Lady Cyrilleze’s.
Etisha recalled Larienne striking her own cheeks, whispering endless apologies, then forced the memory away.
“Now, step onto the dais.”
Having completed their procession, Etisha and Cayenne ascended the platform.
Standing side by side, they were showered in dried petals from the high priest’s hand, faintly glowing with magic.
“Now, we will hear words of blessing.”
Then came the long procedures of the ceremony. Blessings from the high priest, from the emperor, from the former duke and duchess of Wintel…
The transfer of the Wintel heirloom, the exchange of rings before all assembled. Lengthy, varied, and heavy with meaning.
At last, the pivotal moment arrived.
The vows.
Though Etisha and Cayenne had already exchanged private vows, they had never declared them publicly. Now the formal vow must be spoken.
“Now for the vow. Groom, Cayenne Wintel, declare your oath.”
Cayenne turned to face Etisha.
They clasped both hands, looking into each other’s eyes. It felt like returning to that night in the empty chapel, when their first vows were spoken—slow, eternal, beautiful.
“….”
“….”
Silence fell.
Though the hall was filled with people, music, and bells, to Etisha’s ears, all was still.
She felt as if moonlight streamed through the round window.
“I, Cayenne Wintel…”
His voice rang, deep and resolute.
“By the blessing of my father and mother, and their fathers and mothers before them…”
His dark eyes shimmered, fixed unwaveringly upon her.
“…take Etisha El as my wife…”
His voice. His gaze. His lips. His warmth.
Etisha felt utterly bound, unable to look away.
“…to keep the propriety and trust of husband and wife…”
Cayenne.
Cayenne Wintel…
I swear it.
Just before he could speak the final words, the chapel doors suddenly burst open.
Thud.
A figure strode in, black robes dragging across the ground.
“What is this? An intruder?”
“A disturbance? Where are the guards?”
The guests murmured in alarm.
Etisha stared, bewildered, at the uninvited figure. The face was hidden by the hood, but the slight, thin frame suggested a woman.
A suspect leapt into her mind.
…Larienne?
Had she come to ruin the wedding?
But how could she enter the chapel? And that robe… it’s far too large…
The robe hung oversized, like a man’s garment draped over a woman.
Knights stationed along the walls rushed to intercept. The intruder threw back her hood.
“Greetings, everyone.”
“!”
“I am Yudite.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Her appearance was shocking.
Uneven, ragged hair. Hollow, piercing eyes. A wasted body.
The beautiful Dite of old was gone.
Yet strangely, she seemed more natural, more assured than ever. Once, she had been like downy fluff, easily blown away. Now she stood solidly on her own feet, and for that very reason, far more threatening.
“Yes, it’s true. I am Lady Cyrilleze’s foster daughter, and Cayenne’s foster sister. I have lived in this castle for over ten years. And yet I was not invited to the wedding—how very sad.”
“…”
“Oh, do not worry. I only came to bring a wedding gift.”
With a smile, she pushed through the crowd. The knights dared not shove aside the noble guests, and so could not close in on her.
“Are you not curious?”
She peeked between the nobles, golden eyes gleaming.
“Why Lady Cyrilleze took in a commoner girl like me? Why she never adopted me formally, never introduced me to society, hiding me away all these years?”
Lady Cyrilleze’s face went pale. The former duke beside her grew cold and stiff.
“And the reason is… Lady Cyrilleze cannot bear children.”
“What…?”
“Surely not…”
“She could not have her own, so she raised me instead.”
The chapel erupted.
Dite evaded the knights, guests whispering furiously all around. But she was not finished.
Like oil flung upon a fire, she asked, voice sharp:
“But then—if Lady Cyrilleze is barren… who, then, is Duke Cayenne’s true mother?”
“!”
“!!”
“If he is no trueborn son, why pretend to be?”
Her smile vanished.
There stood Lady Cyrilleze with cropped hair, Cayenne and Etisha, the new duke and duchess to be.
Their lives would soar to unreachable heights, far above her. But at least now, she could strike them with misfortune.
This was her gift.
“You thought I knew nothing? That I was some foolish canary, blind to everything?”
“Seize her! Capture Yudite at once!”
“You are wrong. I know everything.”
She had long known of Lady Cyrilleze’s barrenness.
And she had kept the secret. She had even kept silent about Cayenne not being the true child of the Wintel line.
But no longer.
She was not Lady Cyrilleze’s daughter. Cayenne was no longer her man.
“Take her to the Tower! No—to the dungeons!”
Knights shouted, rushing closer. Dite looked back with loathing. Tower, prison, cage—she would not be trapped again.
“…I will be going now.”
She drew a large crimson stone from her robes.
A warp stone, engraved with teleportation sigils.
A one-use treasure, priceless enough to fetch a fortune at auction.
“Farewell.”
She activated it.
Her body flashed like lightning—and vanished.
Just like that, she was gone.
“….”
The chapel froze. Everyone stared at the space where she had stood.
Lady Cyrilleze barren. Cayenne not of Wintel blood.
Unbelievable. And yet, if true, it would shatter everything.
“Could it be true…?”
“Then the duke is not truly a Wintel…?”
The whispers spread. Guests weighed the implications, minds racing.
The wedding itself no longer mattered.
If Cayenne was not Wintel by blood, his very claim as duke would collapse. The ceremony could not proceed.
My lord…
Etisha glanced at him. Their hands were still clasped.
Is he all right?
Shockingly, his hand trembled. His face, pale and rigid, seemed carved of stone.
Pitch black.
He was no longer like a man, but a shadow. His hand was cold, his face obscured, unreadable, like a silhouette of darkness.
Etisha could not fathom his emotions.
Ah…
A deep, incomprehensible abyss.
At last, she glimpsed the fragment of Cayenne’s hidden self. It threatened to overwhelm her, yet she stood her ground.
I cannot simply stand by.
Etisha drew his hand toward her, and with steady voice, began the vow he could not finish.
“I, Etisha El… by the blessing of my father and mother, and their fathers and mothers before them…”
Just as they had once vowed in the empty chapel.
Just as in that moment.
