Callan inhaled sharply, looking over the crowds of his people that stood anxiously below him. He stood, shocked, his fathers words still ringing through his mind. He watched the mothers, the children, the working men, all looking to him for some type of acknowledgement. He was to be their King, yet he could barely look at their faces. Before he knew what he was doing, he left the balcony, returning into the confines of the Palais without a word.
He bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to steady his uneven breathing. Luckily, his mother had begun to address the crowds in his place.
Ariella burst through the doors of the Herald's qaurters, out of breath, she had just run all the way through the palace after Cal had left the balcony. She walked to him, lifting him up from his slouched position.
"Darling, are you alright?" She asked worriedly, searching into his eyes.
He placed his hand over hers that rested on his cheek, "I don't know yet."
She nodded understandingly, "You're the strongest man I know, Callan de Morreau. If there is anyone that can rule this Kingdom fairly, it is you."
He smiled sadly. "I feel as though things are happening much too fast, Ariella. I wonder if I am even ready to take my father's place."
"You saved me, do you understand? You saved my life. Without you, I would not be here. Do you think a man that has never saved someone could rule as you will? I know you Cal, inside and out. You are my love, my life, and my savior. Most of all, Callan, I trust you. I trust that you will do what Frenica needs, and that you will rule with grace and dignity, as your Father has said."
He felt his eyes well up with a feeling he could not explain. He stood there, staring into her wonderful green eyes, for once not only imagining what he would be without her, but what the world would be without her.
He took her hands and dropped to his knee, his eyes never leaving hers, "I feel if I do not do this as it should, I will regret it," he chuckled softly, "I can't imagine a world without you and without our love, gentle Ariella. You complete me, and that is all I could ever ask for in a woman. Please grant me the greatest honor a man could receive and become my wife; become my Queen."
She lifted him up from his kneeling stance and placed her hands on his cheeks, finding her eyes already tearing up. "I love you more than you will ever know, Callan, and will cherish every moment we have together from this point onwards."
He smiled contently and sealed the space between them with a kiss, lifting her from her place on the ground and spinning her through the air. She broke their kiss to giggle, "You'll cause my heart to give out, Callan!"
He laughed and rested her back onto the floor, brushing a piece of her hair behind her ears.
"So. It's official, how wonderful." Muttered a voice.
The Queen glared at her son, "While you were fondling your bride to be, I was addressing our distressed people in your place."
"Forgive me, Mother-"
"I'll have none of it. Make sure you don't shake her up too much, perhaps she won't produce an heir," she growled, sliding past them along with the Duke de Ville as they strode out of the herald's quarters.
Ariella turned to Cal, distress creasing her forehead, "When exactly is your coronation, Callan?"
"Three days time." He muttered hesitantly.
Ariella inhaled sharply, her eyes widened, "This coronation also happens to be our wedding day."
"Indeed it does."
"Therefore; this will also be my coronation day." She said nervously.
He nodded. "My mother will tutor you, Ariella. I will ask this of her and she will agree. My mother, although harsh, cares for this Kingdom deeply."
She clutched his hand in her own, worry in the depth of her emerald eyes.
"I have something for you." Cal continued, pulling a small, octangular box from his waist coat. His eyes remained on hers as he flipped the box open to reveal a gold ring adorned with diamonds. Delicately placed atop the band was a shimmering emerald. "To match your eyes." He whispered, taking her right hand.
She watched as he slid the emerald ring onto her third finger, a smile twitching at the sides of her lips.
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a comforting habit he had grown so fond of. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but the way she watched him told him that she already knew what he was about to say.
He glanced down to her hand which now held his ring, admiring the way it so elegantly mingled with her cream colored skin.
They walked from the herald's quarters, for the first time not being careful of who was watching. Ariella linked her arm within Cal's, glancing shyly up to him as they walked.
"You'd be better off staying here, Callan." She mumbled, noticing his intentions once they had reached her chambers.
He walked towards her slowly, causing her to back up against the double doors, "Then," he muttered, his lips against her ear, "I wouldn't be able to do this."
He pulled her skirts up from the ground, placing a hand against her bare skin just above where her garter rested.
"Callan," she hissed, "Someone will see this."
He smirked, "And yet, you do not move away from me."
She gave him a playful frown, removing his hand from her leg and straightening her out her skirts.
Cal moved away slightly, still smirking. "I suppose this will have to be postponed until our wedding night, chérie."
"On my account, I suppose it does, chérie." She playfully pushed him aside and opened the doors to her chambers.
"And she takes her leave without a kiss to remember her by?" He asked, mockingly offended.
She peaked through the set of doors, just before closing them, and smirked. "Until tomorrow, mon amour."
YOU ARE READING
~Watty's 2018 Longlist~Previously featured on Wattpad Picks~ Mademoiselle Ariella du Montamorte is the most unladylike lady that ever graced the court. She is trapped in the debutante season in the hopes of finding an unwanted match, but her reckles...