The King's Cursed Bride

A Fool: Part 2

She huddled more deeply into his arms, hiding her flaming face against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, savoring its smoothness beneath the rasp of his stubble.

All too soon, this moment would come to an end.

Elon's grip on her tightened, as if he could shield her from the coming chaos. He could whisk her away right now, saving her from pain and humiliation. But to do so would deprive her of the opportunity to choose, to forge the makings of her own destiny, to become the Queen his people needed.

And in the future, there would be more instances like this one. She would doubt his abilities. She would doubt his wisdom. He only hoped she wouldn't doubt his love.

***

Warmth swirled within her as Elon lead her off the dance floor, flushing her with a heady sense of pleasure. She was glad she'd decided to come to the ball.

Elon handed her a plate and gestured to the buffet table. "What would you like to try?"

The rocking of the carriage had drowned her appetite in nausea, and she hadn't eaten much earlier. Now, a hot hunger gnawed at her stomach. "What should I try?"

His cheeks dimpled. "How about everything?"

She laughed. "Everything it is, then."

Elon started with a slice of buttered bread, then a cluster of fruit, then a cut of meat, then—

"Look at how much food she has on her plate. She must be a commoner."

Carissa jerked, the word 'commoner' stinging her ears. A discreet side glance revealed two older women, their silver hair piled in curls.

"But she could use a bit of flesh on her. As it is, she has no figure whatsoever. I don't even know how the King could tell she was a woman—"

Carissa's plate clattered to the floor, its contents scattering and splattering across the marble. Her corset wasn't tight—Elon had demanded the lady-in-waiting leave it plenty loose—yet her breaths came rushing in and out of her chest. She didn't meet Elon's gaze as she knelt. "I'm s–so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." Her hands quaked uncontrollably as she tried to shove the food back onto the plate.

The music slowed to a halt as the nobles stopped dancing to stare.

Elon knelt next to her and gripped her hands, stilling her movement. "It's alright, Carissa. I told you something like this would happen, didn't I?"

She ducked her head. "Well, yes, but—"

He squeezed her hands. "And you're just as adorably embarrassed as I'd suspected you'd be."

She peered up at him, surprised to find a tender smile gracing his lips. "But I made a mistake."

"And you'll make many more. I don't want perfection, Carissa; I just want you."

Her heart jolted, skipping a beat and then pounding faster as if to make up for it, and she returned his smile.

He rose, pulling her up with him. "You're still trembling. Why don't you have a seat while I finish cleaning?"

"But I can't let you clean up my—"

He brushed his lips over hers. "I have this, Carissa. And now that I'm your husband, I'm going to serve you as best I can." Before she could protest, he led her to a seat at the edge of the ballroom. "I'll join you once I'm done."

He strode back to the buffet table and knelt by her mess, until a servant came and practically shooed him away. The music slowly began, and the nobles peeled their gazes away from her to resume dancing.