All I can think is that I’m in his arms. Maybe it’s because of my father-and he’s the one to blame, or perhaps it was Alderic himself. The whole room watches us, probably gossiping. My father, by some miracle, has not announced our engagement. I wonder whether this is his or Alderic’s way of helping everyone think we’re hopelessly in love. Which _I_ am. Not that it helps in this situation I’m in.

The song should be coming to an end, and we haven’t said more than a few words. His hand rests upon my back and the other cradles my hand. The one that is not currently on his shoulder. His grip on my hand tightens and loosens occasionally, but never hurts. I wonder what he’s thinking.

The music reminds me of when I was at my aunt’s wedding a few years ago. They played a song similar to this for the guests. My father must’ve chosen it on purpose, with it usually being played at a wedding. Its sweet tune keeps going, despite what I had thought and so do I and Alderic. I can’t help but feel that my dress is quite plain compared to the ones many other women are currently wearing. But it does seem that my dress does give the desired effect- the effect my father wants, of a sweet and innocent princess, fragile and beautiful. And I despise those long flowing trains and corsets. After I am married it will be expected to dress that way, though, like my mother did.

The dance finally comes to an end. Though I have been waiting for it to end, I do not let go as fast as I should and my fingers linger in his. I pull away, forcing Alderic to let go of me. He bows and I curtsey. I ensure not to curtsey too deeply or to lock eyes with his. I do not think I could bear it, looking into those eyes, those blue eyes that now seem blank, hollow. I avoid his face altogether.

The pleasant clapping of the people registers in my head then and I use it as an excuse to look around. I expect Alderic to take his leave of me but he stays nearby. Frustrating yet annoyingly comforting and not at all smothering. The rush of the dance, the feeling of his hand on my back wears off. Just like a child who had eaten too much sugar, and, eventually, after a rush of energy and excitement blasts through him, he feels exhausted.

My pulse calms down. My breathing slows. The prior night of sleeplessness drained everything out of me and I don’t think it hit me until now. My eyes start to feel heavy and I wonder what time it is.

I feel something heavy land on my shoulder, I turn around abruptly, startled. It’s my father, not Alderic. But he stands by me still, tense. I look up at my father once more to see that he is not looking at me, but at the people whose enjoyment and amusement turned into expectancy. Expectancy for what he’s about to say. And I’m too tired to do anything but be the good daughter I’m supposed to be and smile.

“I would delight in thanking all of you once again for joining me for such a wonderful occasion to honor our brave Lord Alderic Vaylen.” A pause. “And I am even more delighted to publicize the betrothal of my daughter and Lord Alderic.” I hold my breath as the people standing in front of me- take a moment to understand what he meant. Then a pleasant cheerfulness erupts in the crowd. A few murmur to each other, and others stand in awe watching our every move. But, as I have learned before, there will always be that one person in the crowd who does not agree.

I’m frozen and cannot move until Alderic steps closer to me and puts his arm around my waist. His grip is light yet strong, meant to ground me. Or make the announcement seem believable. And I lean into it a bit. I can tell he’s tense. Stiff. And maybe, just maybe I’m also grounding _him_ in this moment. I clear the thoughts from my head and direct them to my father, who’s standing nearby, expectant. Expecting what? He doesn't expect a kiss, does he? No, that would be too far, even for him. Then he must want me to speak. To the public.

I clear my throat, smile like this is my happily ever after, and get the attention of the excited crowd. “No words can express my extensive happiness,” I start. Alderic’s grip tightens. Yes, no words can express my _extensive happiness_. “But I am extremely pleased to be able to share the… wonderful news with all of you.” I trip up slightly at the end.

My father nods his approval. No one except Alderic it seems noticed when I let my mask, slip slightly. Because none of this is wonderful. After my father directed the attention of the guests to a special dessert that had been made specifically for us. The things they toast, one by one, ‘may the god above bless your union’ ‘To Alderic-may he be worthy of her’ made me want to tear apart the lies and propaganda that was a mask over everything.

But when someone said ‘Long live the future queen and king’ I felt like that mask was suffocating. I wanted the crown, right? No, I did not, not like that. But I just nod, smile, sip the wine in my glass, the glass that Alderic had placed in my hand.

“Your Majesty, King Ezikiel,” someone said to my father. A tall man of maybe forty-six. “What an excellent speech you gave.” I do not hear the response because I'm too tired to care about what my father says about me-us. My eyes widen as I realize that I can leave unnoticed. For now. “Alderic, you must excuse me. I am feeling light-headed. The wine has gotten to my head. I'm tired. I will… see you tomorrow.” His grip tightens on my waist for a moment and my eyes widen. He must realize why because he then lets go and steps back.

“Are you alright? I insist on taking you to your chambers,” he murmurs. I purse my lips but nod. Maybe there will be fewer scandals if I don't leave alone. I can already imagine what they would have said if I left alone. ‘She left so abruptly! Is she unhappy with the marriage? No! They looked so happy!’

I place my glass of wine on the nearest flat surface. He does the same then offers me his arm. For the people, of course. I take it and he leads me to the door where we exit the crowded room. The rymithic sound of my heels on the floor clam me slightly. I try to focus on the sound. I’m surprised that anyone believed my terrible speech. All but my father and Alderic.

Once or twice during the journey back to my chambers, his grip tightens on my arm and hand. Just like he did before. Not like he did tonight, cautious, but more determined. Maybe a little desperate. I remember when he first went to war, before all of this, and he grabbed my hand as a farewell. Like this. I remember him acting a bit desperate, and maybe that's why I feel like he’s also acting that way now. Its just my imagination.

We have no words to say. Well, I don’t. There’s nothing left to say. For the time being, at least. Too soon, he pulls his arm back from mine. “Where are you going?” I ask too quickly. “Alderic?” His eyes widen and for a second they aren’t hollow anymore. They are what I remembered them to be. He steps farther back.

“I must be going, don’t you think, Lenore? I should be getting back to the celebrations.” Oh. Well, I knew _that._ I feel stupid for blurting out that sentence. I wasn’t even thinking.

“Of course. After all, they’re celebrating _you,_” I tell him as I push the door open. I go through it, turn around. I don't know why. I should just close it instead of expecting him to say something that will fix everything. Not like anything could.

“No,” he says, softer that I thought was necessary. “They’re celebrating _us_.”