“Hyacinths may not be as flashy as roses, but their sweet fragrance carries far.”
I finished speaking, locking eyes with Rachel.
Why were hyacinths tucked away in this corner? Why did I follow their scent only to find these two here?
It didn’t feel like a coincidence.
Rachel, seemingly satisfied with achieving her goal, wore a smug smile.
Hiding my emotions, I looked away from her.
“The ceremony’s about to start. I’ll head out first.”
“What do you mean? We’re going together. I’m your soon-to-be husband, aren’t I?”
Alex brazenly offered his arm.
Suppressing a grimace, I lightly placed my lace-gloved hand on it.
As we walked toward the wedding arch, Rachel called out, “Sis, wait!”
She yanked a hyacinth from a pot, scattering dirt around it.
“It’s too plain. Here, put this in your hair—it’ll help.”
She tossed the broken stem aside and tucked the petals into my hair.
“How’s it look, Viscount?”
“Pure and lovely. Suits her well,” Alex said, his praise hollow.
Turning to a glass window, I saw my reflection—the flower made me look like the village lunatic.
Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll dance like a madwoman.
Smiling, I said, “Thanks, but look at you, all sloppy. Your ribbon’s undone.”
I grabbed the ends of Rachel’s waist ribbon and yanked hard.
“Ow, sis, that hurts!” Rachel bit her lip, glaring as she caught her breath.
“You have to endure this much to seduce a man, don’t you?”
“Seduce a man? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t you know? They say if a maid of honor doesn’t marry within three months, she’ll die alone.”
“That’s ridiculous. You still believe that superstition?”
“It’s hard to dismiss. Remember Baroness Julian, maid of honor two years ago? Her prospects dried up. And last year, there was Juvia, Laura, Selache… who else?”
I counted on my fingers, and Rachel’s eyes wavered.
I’d listed women who’d genuinely lost marriage prospects, though whether they were maids of honor was unclear.
“Who knows? Maybe today you’ll meet your eternal match.”
Smiling, I patted her shoulder.
Her eyes shot up, trembling lips ready to retort when the wedding bell rang.
“Do a good job as maid of honor.”
Ignoring me, Rachel turned sharply to the bridesmaid’s spot.
I walked with Alex toward the arch.
Stopping before a full-length mirror, he flinched and wiped his lips.
“What, got some fruit juice on me?”
He rubbed again, muttering unprompted.
Seeing red lipstick smudged on his hand, I smirked.
Fooling around with another woman right before the wedding?
What a pathetic mutt.
Glancing at him with disdain, I recalled our past life.
Our consummations were rare—barely a handful in two years.
He’d always wilt like a deflated balloon, failing repeatedly.
The few successes were never in our bedroom but in odd places—a secluded garden, an empty room, a dim hallway.
I let out a hollow breath.
This man, my husband in that life, was so impotent he needed the thrill of danger to function.
Yet he’d blamed me, saying I lacked allure, telling me to wear perfume or dress provocatively.
Cursing inwardly, I flashed him a curved smile.
Our eyes met, and he grabbed my hand tightly, his gaze dripping with fake affection, as if saying, I love you too.
“Dear guests, the ceremony will now begin,” the officiant announced.
I stepped toward the arch.
Aselin and Alex stood before the rose-adorned arch.
Rachel, behind them, admired the setup before scanning the packed guest seats.
Gasp.
Her breath caught.
A towering figure with flowing black hair and blood-red eyes—Claude, whose beauty could stop hearts.
Why is Prince Claude here?
Rachel blinked rapidly.
Alex was openly aligned with the Second Prince.
There was no reason for Claude to attend.
…Did he come for me?
Her heart raced at the thought.
But when their eyes met briefly, Claude looked away.
Following his gaze, Rachel tilted her head.
His red eyes were fixed on Aselin, tracking her every move.
Rachel smirked.
Aselin must’ve crossed him.
Why else would he stare so intensely?
Suppressing a twinge of jealousy, she glared at Aselin’s back.
“The groom will now enter,” the officiant announced after a tedious speech.
Alex strode down the aisle, basking in the guests’ attention, and stood proudly at the altar, gazing at Aselin.
“Now, the bride.”
Aselin walked the aisle with a bouquet, Rachel scattering red petals behind her.
Her glossy silver hair and delicate features, pure as a lily, stirred murmurs among the guests.
Rachel’s lips pursed—she was used to being the center of attention, and this stung.
Glancing at Claude, her eyes widened.
His gaze on Aselin burned, not with hatred but something closer to obsession, lingering on her silver hair and face.
Rachel looked between them, confused.
Why’s he looking at her like that? No way Claude likes Aselin. The heavens would flip before a prince who rejected me would fall for her!
Shaking her head, she noticed Claude frown, as if displeased.
See? I was right—he’s just annoyed with her.
Poor Aselin.
Smirking, Rachel stepped to the side as Aselin and Alex stood together.
“We gather to bless this union, not only of love but of souls united under Verta’s grace…” the officiant intoned solemnly.
Nearing the end, he turned to Alex.
“Groom, Alex Wade, do you swear to love only your bride as your soul’s companion?”
“Yes, I swear!” Alex gripped Aselin’s hand tightly.
The officiant turned to Aselin. “Bride, Aselin Rondinella, do you swear to serve and love only your groom?”
Silence.
No answer came.
The officiant cleared his throat, asking again.
“No.”
Aselin’s firm voice rang out as she coldly shook off Alex’s hand.
Pulling the crystal orb from her cape, she tilted her lips.
Without hesitation, she pressed its button with a click.
