Of course I’m going to behave myself. Well, as best I can. I’ve never wanted anything more than to be as perfect a vessel as my mother is. I try my hardest, I really do. However, I still disappoint people. My fiancé most of all. To the extent that he does not even want me.
My bottom lip hurts as I bite it. The sharp stinging pain focuses my mind and prevents me from spiraling into a pit of self-pity.
“Very good.”
My father leaves. Without even an awkward pat on the arm. The door clicks shut quietly. I am alone. Time to take a deep breath and try to calm my heart that is beating far too fast.
I probably should take one last look around my rooms and make sure the servants haven’t forgotten anything. Though, I sincerely doubt it. My mother runs a tight ship. Always has. Our staff are one hundred percent proficient. But I can allow myself one last walk around for sentimental reasons.
It is strange to see my rooms devoid of all my belongings. There is nothing here but the furniture that existed long before I was born and that will outlast me by generations. The walls were last decorated a hundred years ago and will not be touched for the foreseeable future. Now all my stuff has gone, there is no trace of me left. It is as if I was never here.
An entire lifetime and there is no mark of me on my ancestral home. Nothing. Not one single sign.
I sigh deeply. I’m being melodramatic. Perhaps if I had not been born a vessel, and had left home to go to boarding school and then university, I would not be feeling so emotional. But as it is, I swear it is strange to spend your entire life in one place, and then have to leave it forever. What I am feeling can’t be odd? Can it?
My wrist watch buzzes, reminding me of the time. It’s time to go. The moment is finally here. I’m leaving my childhood home for my husband’s.
I hurry outside. My parents are already in the car. Philip opens the door for me. I nod my thanks at him and slide in next to my mother.
As soon as my butt touches the leather seat, the driver pulls away smoothly. The engine purrs as we glide down the sweeping driveway.
My neck is twitching. It is all but itching with a desire to turn around and take one last look at my home, but mother and father are right here and they will see. So I don’t. I keep my gaze fixed firmly ahead. To the future, not the past.
It’s my wedding day. First day of the rest of my life.
Chapter two
Lucien
“Do you, Lucien Alexander James Mallory, take Count Felford, Andrew George William Colville, to be your lord and master? Do you solemnly vow to honor and obey his every word?”
The words ring out clearly in the small chapel. My knees hurt. This flagstone floor is unyielding and cold.
“I do,” I say, and I do not know how I get the words out.
“Do you, Count Felford, solemnly swear to take this vessel as your own and provide for his needs?”
“I do.” Count Felford’s voice is loud and clear.
He places his hand on the top of my head and I look up at him as I am supposed to. As usual, his stunning good looks make my heart flutter, and the disdain in his eyes twists my guts.
He still doesn’t like me. Seven long years of engagement, and I have tried everything. I have been the best possible vessel I could be. I even helped him with his latest hairbrained scheme, and it has all been for nothing.
I would want any husband my parents chose to like me. People are far kinder to those they are fond of. But I especially wanted Count Felford to like me, and I don’t know why.
But it clearly isn’t meant to be. Added to whatever flaws he sees in me, he doesn’t like that I was chosen for him when he was sixteen, and there is not a thing I can do about that.
He hates me. He doesn’t want me. He resents me. And he doesn’t even know any of my secrets. How much worse will things be if he finds out?
“Blessed Be,” chants the priest.
“Blessed Be,” answers the congregation.
I swallow. It is done. I am bound to Count Felford. I am his property to do with as he chooses. I belong to a man who sneers in disgust every time he sees me.
I can look away now, but I don’t. I’m caught in his dark gaze, like a rabbit in headlights. Or a mouse before a snake.
In a few short hours, this man is going to take me upstairs. He is going to take my body. Take my magic.
I have never been more terrified.
He holds out his hand, and it takes me far too long to realize he is offering me assistance.
My cheeks heat and I drop my gaze. Rising from, and dropping to, my knees is something I’ve done with my trainer a thousand times. I can do both gracefully. And without any help.
My fiancé really does think I’m useless. No. Wait. Felford is no longer my fiancé. He is my husband and master now. And the sound of that feels strange in my mind. I can just tell that the first time I speak it out loud, my tongue is going to tangle on the words.
I ignore his outstretched hand and flow perfectly to my feet. Showing him that I am not useless.
But he doesn’t look impressed. He looks displeased. My heart sinks even further. Everything I do is wrong. No matter how hard I try.
He doesn’t offer his arm as we lead our guests out of his family’s chapel. It’s fine. It is a fairly modern addition to wedding customs. I can pretend it is not a snub, it is simply Felford being traditional.
We make it to the dining room, and stand at the head of the table while the guests are seated. It is a small wedding party. Smaller than usual. Felford hasn’t invited a soul, as far as I can see. It’s just his parents and a handful of their friends from the Mage Council. My parents have brought a few people. An old uncle and a business associate.
New Year’s Day is auspicious for a wedding, but I suppose it means not many people are free to attend. And that’s fine. Old Blood weddings are supposed to be small and discreet. It is tasteful that way. Mundane weddings, with thousands of guests and dancing, are garish. No matter how fun they might look.
Felford’s staff start serving dinner. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother wrinkle her dainty nose. But everything appears fine to me. Except perhaps, the servants did not all step forward with perfect synchronization.
