Meant to Be My Balance

Chapter 40

Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as I laid down in bed next to Aleksander. I kept my head turned away, unable to even look at the strong line of his jaw, his dark mess of hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept.

This would be my bed for the rest of my life. This would be my place—next to Aleksander. Would I have been happier with Mal? With Nikolai? At this point, I didn't want to marry anyone.

"You can't sleep with him," Genya had said.

"I'm not." I could practically see Aleksander smiling in the corner, as Aleksander and I retreated to our quarters, taking the longer path so we could drop Genya off at her rooms.

"You know what I mean! It's not tradition."

"Genya."

"He's not supposed to see you before—"

"Come, Alina," Aleksander had said, cool and calm.

The night before our wedding could have been any other night. We had no big parties, no traditions, no ceremonies. Aleksander and I sat at the desk, doing paperwork, brainstorming how to take care of Duke Samya without angering the Minister of Agriculture.

But now, lying down, there was nothing to think about but tomorrow. Genya had refused to let me see the dress—to the point where she blindfolded me as the tailor did the fittings. It was a gigantic mess, trying to turn and whatnot without any visual capabilities. All I knew was that it was lighter than I had thought, but royal weddings were well-known as pompous events, and I was sure that the Fabrikator material was simply lighter to wear.

"Sleep, Alina," Aleksander mumbled, and I startled. Of course the bastard was awake; he had probably heard me shifting on the bed for the past half-hour.

"You first," I bit back.

"I was sleeping."

I hmphed and turned my back to him. It didn't do much, because he pulled me against his chest, his arm thrown over me, pressing me into him. His breath was warm against my ear.

"What is it that is on your mind? Fantasies of escape? Assassination?" I could feel his lips curl into a grin against my warm shoulder. "Or perhaps a different sort of fantasy all together?" 

"Assassination," I grumbled, slapping his hand away. It didn't work.

He pressed a kiss to my neck, and my heart froze up in my chest. I hated how he could do this—how he made me feel.

"How do you trust me?" I asked, my voice betraying how much the question really meant to me.

"How do I trust you?"

"I lead an army against you. An army that's still evading us."

I turned to face him, and he shrugged. "I knew I would win. As for your 'army' it's in shambles, Alina, and hardly a concern."

"Cocky bastard."

He sighed, the breath low and cool. "I am a king, Alina. I've spent centuries trying to gain the respect I have now. Remember that, will you?"

"Not my king," I said, not giving a care in the world to however much Aleksander 'sacrificed' for the 'honor' and power he had. 

He lifted his hand to cup my face, and his eyes bored into mine. "Then what are you thinking? Do you not want to marry me?"

I wanted to look away—look at anything except his eyes. How did he carry so much in those silver glances?

"You never explained why we still need to get married when the Apparat is dead, and the Soldat Sol are so few. You said our rule would seem illegitimate but—"