Chapter 16
Westmarch, at Wolveston Hall.
Eleanor stared at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror, still half–dazed by the ornate bridal gown draped around her.
She had expected to spend her life bound to a crippled man, mourning a marriage of title and duty. But fate, it seemed, had decided to toy with her once again.
The very day she arrived at Wolveston Hall, Lord Edmund awakened.
At the time, she had simply been standing beside his bed, looking down at a man who had slumbered for years. His features were striking–strong brows,
a sculpted nose, lashes casting shadows over his pallid skin. He looked more like a statue than a man, still and solemn, carved from marble.
She sighed quietly to herself, thinking what a waste it was. Had he not been lost to sleep, he would have been devastatingly handsome.
And then–his fingers moved.
Startled, she stumbled back as his eyes fluttered open, dark and sharp, locking with hers.
In that breathless instant, her voice quaked. “S–Someone! He’s awake!”
What followed was chaos–a blur of shouting, footfalls, and weeping joy. Physicians flooded in, servants and elders of House Wolveston crammed into the chamber, all scrambling to confirm the impossible.
Eleanor stood rooted in a corner, watching the man who should’ve remained asleep gradually return to the world.
Once it was certain that Lord Edmund had awakened, his mother, Lady Wolveston clasped Eleanor’s hand tightly, tears streaming down her face with a tremulous smile.
“You’re a blessing upon this house, child. A blessing sent by the heavens!”
Later, Edmund asked to see her.
She entered the chamber with her heart pounding, certain he meant to annul the marriage agreement.
After all, House Viremont had always been beneath the Wolvestons. She had never understood why the match had been accepted in the first place. Now that he had awoken, surely he would refuse her.
But before she could speak, he asked, “Do you know why House Wolveston agreed to this union, Lady Eleanor?”
She shook her head.
“It wasn’t your father we promised,” Edmund said softly, every word clear and unhurried. “It was the House Lirendale.”
Her mother’s family.
“Your mother and mine were dearest companions in their youth,” he continued, watching the tremble in her lashes. “They swore, should either bear children, they would join our houses by blood.”
A luap rose in her throat.
“After your mother passed, word reached us of how the Viremonts treated you” Edinund sat up slowly. “The Lirendales longed to take you in, but the Viremonts refused. So when your father proposed a match, they saw their chance–to free you from that household.”
His eyes were steady. “Whether I slept or woke, I was always meant to marry you Never your sister. Only you.”
He paused, then smiled faintly. “I’ve been asleep too long. I’ll need time to learn the keep again, and my strength will return slowly. But I’m not without capability. I’ll see to it you are protected. That you want for nothing. You may spend gold as you please, go wherever you wish.”
His voice softened. “We may not love each other–not yet. But we can be kind. We can grow toward something more. Will you give it a chance?”
In that moment, as if compelled by something unseen, Eleanor pockled
A loud click brake her reverie the door creaked open behind her.
She turned, startled to find Edmund already standing just behind her.
He wore a crimson vebet surcoat trimmed with guld thread, the fabric falling gracefully over his broad shoulders and slender frame. The rich huse and intricate embroidery lent him an air of solemn majesty as though he were born for this moment.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the nape of her back. Waru breath danced across her skin, making her shiver
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“So shy?” he teased with a low chuckle. “Whatever shall we do tonight, my lady?”
“Who’s shy?” she blurted, cheeks flaming. “You just startled me, that’s all! I’ve lived through worse, you know!”
“Oh?” He quirked a brow, his tone playful as if they were already a pair long wedded. “Then my Eleanor is a warrior indeed.”
Her heart gave a painful lurch.
What happened to taking it slow? Weren’t they meant to be courteous strangers first? So why did he look at her like she was his world?
She tried to shift the topic. “Why are you here? Hasn’t the ceremony yet to begin?”
“I worried you’d be nervous.” He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “So I thought–we’d walk together. I’ll be right here.”
His hand was warm, dry, grounding.
As they stood at the edge of the great hall, Eleanor felt a strange detachment settle over her.
She had dreamed of this day countless times–of walking the aisle in brocade and gold, crowned in jewels.
But in every dream, she was walking toward Roland.
A sting bloomed in her chest. She drew in a deep breath and forced his name from her mind.
“Are you ready?” Edmund whispered.
She nodded, offering him a soft smile.
The heralds sang their blessings. The guests turned as one, their eyes shining with joy. Eleanor clung to Edmund’s hand on instinct.
“Do not fear,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
Guests whispered among themselves:
“What a striking couple…”
“They say she woke the heir from his long sleep…”
“A lucky star, this bride. A true blessing to the House Wolveston…”
From the moment she arrived in Westmarch, everyone had treated her with uncommon warmth. No contempt, no scorn–not a single cruel word.
And now, not one guest dared speak of House Viremont.
She knew–it was Edmund’s doing.
Gratitude swelled within her chest.
They knelt before the altar.
The priest began to recite the sacred rites, his voice echoing beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Eleanor clasped her hands, her breath trembling as the final blessing approached.
Just as the priest raised his arms for the final blessing, the great hall doors slammed open.
A tall figure stood against the light, silhouetted by the storm outside
“I forbid it,”
The voice, raw and strained.
Eleanor froze. Slowly, she turned
Roland stood in the doorway, his hair in disarray, damp curls plastered to his brow. His chest heaved as though he’d run all the way from Crownspire. “Eleanor..” His voice cracked. “Don’t marry him”
Clupter 16
