The Broken Crown

Chapter 40

Thomas

 There had really been no need to announce their engagement to the court; it had been buzzing with the rumours and whispers of the way in which he had asked, of how romantic and chivalrous it seemed. In truth it had been anything but chivalrous. In the pit of his stomach, it seemed what remained of his honour and pure soul was being eaten away by the rottenness that was simply, purely him.

 Celeste noticed none of this, he though, and if she did, she seemed happy to remain seemingly oblivious. Not a day went by without him asking her if she was sure, if she had thought this true, which she could not have considering what she was doing. In the beginning, she would smile sweetly and say yes, I love you, but in the end she had given up and ignored his suggestion. Instead she would pause momentarily before continuing her debate between cloth-of-gold or white or maybe a bright blue for the engagement.

 He loved her of course. Some days, he could not contain his happiness that she loved him back. Some days seemed to pass in a haze of lovesick, foolish bliss. Some days, he almost forgot what a sin this was.

 When she kissed him, it was worst. It was a fiery fight between the beast that would tie a woman like her to a man like him and the dying man, whose honour still plagued him in the night with nightmares of someone else, another girl, also willing to give herself to him.

 It would have been different, had it been the baker’s daughter of his dreams. A woman who married him only for her own greed and advantage would be easier to condemn in this way. But it was not the baker’s daughter of his dreams. Celeste was more than that, more than he could have ever dreamed. Such perfection could not be imagined by anyone but the gods themselves.

 “What do you think?” she asked, turning around in the dress that was being fitted. The light spilled from the window and glistened on her pale skin, erasing her birthmark. In anyone’s eyes, she would be perfect now, but he found the face was missing something without the mark. Her imperfections were far more beautiful than her perfections.

 He had never had an eye for fashion or design. “It’s beautiful,” he told her, mostly because she was.

 She pouted thoughtfully, glancing at herself in the mirror. “Can you tighten the corsage more?” she asked the dresser. He thought it already looked painfully tight but said nothing.

 When the day arrived, the royals were still gone. The Queen had only just reached her destination, and that Raphael had yet to set sails back to the coast of Tibera. It was a small celebration, as Thomas had wished it would be. There was no reason for more people than necessary to bear witness to this. Celeste did not seem to mind either, since she was much better at mingling in small crowds.

 There was served plenty of wine, but Thomas forced himself to drink only the sweetest and softest of it. He was determined not to be drunk that night. Celeste smiled widely the entire night. There were stars in her eyes, gleaming with happiness, and just that made Thomas feel a little better about the whole thing.

 He followed her back to her chamber that night. He knew of the whispers going on behind him, the incredulous giggles, and wished he could turn around and tell them that he would never hurt her honour in that way; tell them that Celeste would never do such a thing. After that, he thought it was a good thing he was not drunk and capable to keep himself from doing just that.

 It was not like it had not happened before, of course. The bride was rarely truly a virgin on her wedding night. That did not mean she had not been a virgin the first time she and her husband shared a bed.

 Celeste pulled her skirts up and kneeled before him. “I love you,” she told him, and the honesty shone in her eyes. If only I could tell her…