Chapter 59
“What? What do you mean…?”
“Did I see it wrong? If you go by that article, it sounds like I’ve been passionately in love with Yulia from then until now, and that’s why we’re getting married.”
“…I thought it was that kind of marriage too. Isn’t it?”
At Henry’s question, Kayente let out a silent laugh and lowered his gaze to the floor.
“So there was at least one person who hoped this would be a happy marriage.”
“…Pardon?”
“Never mind. So, what do I have to do now?”
“There’s nothing special. Just go to the front gate at the right time and greet the guests as they arrive.”
Henry was curious what other reason there could be if it wasn’t love, but he pretended not to notice. Kayente raised his eyes with a neutral expression, but Henry knew he was unsettled. He couldn’t tell where that confusion came from, but he decided the most important thing right now was to get this wedding over with without incident.
And he was certain—if anyone could put Kayente’s mind at ease, it would be Yulia.
When the carriage carrying Yulia arrived at the mansion, Kayente was by the entrance, handing a guest list to a servant and giving instructions.
“Don’t let anyone in who’s not on the list. Check carefully who’s inside each carriage.”
“Yes, my lord!”
While he was giving orders, Yulia’s carriage didn’t stop at the iron gates but rolled right through into the path leading between the gardens to the mansion’s front entrance. She didn’t lean out the window, but all the way there she kept turning her head to watch Kayente until he was out of sight.
She’d known he was handsome since childhood, but this was the first time she truly understood that even a man could look far more striking when he put effort into his appearance. Dressed impeccably, his hair carefully swept back strand by strand, his clean, sculpted features shone even more brightly—it was hard to look away.
That man was going to be her husband.
Despite all the wounds she’d received until now, her heart pounded. Foolishly, the thought that she’d never be able to return to her own home again was suddenly easier to bear every time it crossed her mind during the ride.
“Welcome, my lady.”
“Where’s the dress?”
“In a hurry, are we? …Here it is. Shall we change you into it first?”
Yulia wanted to be beautiful—just as much as she wanted Kayente to be dumbfounded, eyes wide, breath caught, when he saw her walking down the aisle. She hoped he would forget all the thoughts and talk that had gone into arranging this marriage, and for a moment—like an innocent girl—feel his heart swell just from thinking That man is my husband.
—The moment I saw her, I fell for her all over again.
She wished those words could become truth.
“If I pull it this tight, you’ll have trouble breathing.”
“It’s fine. Pull it as tight as you can.”
“Then we’ll keep it like this for the first part of the ceremony, and loosen it a little for the reception.”
So she endured the discomfort of the corset. Unfortunately, because Kayente didn’t like too much bare skin, lace had to be draped over her shoulders, but the seamstress had arranged her shoulder line and neckline—both of which she praised endlessly—to perfection.
“Lucy, redo my hair.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
She wanted him to think: Such a beautiful woman is to be my wife. She wanted him to swallow hard when he saw her.
And as Yulia wished, when Kayente saw her, he lost himself for a moment.
In imperial weddings, when the bride appeared at the entrance to the aisle, the groom would walk to her, take her hand, and lead her to the platform. So Kayente, already standing on the flower-decked platform with the guests seated in a circle, saw Yulia appear at the far end of the white silk aisle… and forgot he was supposed to go get her, simply freezing in place.
“My lord, you need to go fetch your bride.”
If Henry, nearby, hadn’t spoken up, Kayente might have stayed rooted to the spot much longer.
“I didn’t know Count Clu could make a face like that.”
With a strangely awkward gait, like a moth drawn into a flame, Kayente moved toward her, and the emperor—seated nearby—looked surprised, then smiled.
He had to admit anyone would fall for her. If she hadn’t already been taken, her beauty would have been wasted on a mere political marriage—she could have made men weep and still have her pick of the best.
Of course, he’d expected she’d look her best for her wedding day—every bride did.
But Yulia surpassed that. Draped head to toe in white, a thin veil speckled with jewels over her face, smiling with quiet nerves—she was like a divine messenger descended from heaven. Even an angel might not radiate such purity and light. She dazzled to the point it felt blinding, and he found himself unwilling to even blink lest he miss a second.
“Careful, you’ll trip.”
“Give me your hand.”
And part of him didn’t want anyone else to see her like this. As he took her hand and led her toward the center of the hall, he regretted inviting so many people.
The Empire’s weddings lasted all day: Part 1 for the ceremony, Part 2 for the banquet, Part 3 for the priest’s declaration. The arrangement for Part 1—guests focused on the couple—was meant as a blessing for their happiness.
The groom would bring the bride to the center, lift her veil, and kiss her to mark the start of their marriage. But Kayente didn’t like that anyone else could look at Yulia the way he was. If anyone did—emperor or not—he felt like gouging their eyes out.
“Count Clu, you can’t just stand there. Lift the veil and kiss her.”
“Seems the count is quite nervous, Your Majesty.”
He didn’t want to unveil those golden eyes of hers for everyone to see.
Yulia, watching him stride toward her so intently, felt a new hope for this marriage. Seeing his eyes completely captivated by her, just as she’d wished, filled her with quiet joy.
“Give me your hand.”
When he reached for her, it was as if there was nothing in the world he wanted more than her hand. Later, he might push her away with that cold face again, but for this moment, she felt like a beloved bride.
Except…
“Brother, you’re hurting my hand.”
He was holding her so tightly it hurt, and by the time they reached the center, her fingers tingled from lack of blood flow. But he didn’t loosen his grip. When they faced each other for the kiss, the intensity in his eyes through the veil startled her.
He’d once told her he’d devour her whole—and now she felt like he might actually do it, right there.
“Um… my lord. Everyone’s waiting.”
Part 1 ended when the groom lifted the veil. But even staring at her like that, Kayente didn’t lift it until Henry quietly reminded him.
“Mm!”
Once his lips touched hers, they didn’t part. She’d thought a wedding kiss would be nothing, but it wasn’t—heat flooded her cheeks, and the kiss dragged on. His big hands framed her cheeks, and she had to endure the breath-stealing press of his mouth.
“Oh my.”
“I didn’t know Count Clu had such passion.”
“Am I the only one worried for the countess tonight? Ha ha.”
The guests’ laughter, tinged with envy, was a relief—if not for that, she might have cried from embarrassment. They couldn’t see it, but his tongue twined with hers deeply, the sort of kiss that felt indecent to share in public.
“That’s enough. There are many eyes on you… How long are you going to keep kissing?”
“My lord, I think that’s plenty.”
Still, Yulia wasn’t displeased. If his desire for her was so strong it made him act like this, she was glad. When she began to squirm from lack of air, Baron and Henry stepped in to gently pull Kayente back. Applause broke out at once, congratulating the couple on their first step as husband and wife.
Once the baron and Henry returned to their places, Yulia, her right hand still sore, offered her left to Kayente and tugged him forward.
“It’s time to greet the guests.”
