Cicatrice

Chapter XIV

QUEEN ESTELLE BELSHAW

Some time had passed. Eddie and I had decided to remain friends after our romantic exploration that late night before, although the guilt still haunted me like a ghost in an abandoned house.

"Eddie, I am being wedded, this cannot happen again, I'm sorry," I whispered as my hands graced either side of his wet face, tears streaming down his cheeks. Neither one of us wanted to let go, but we knew it was the best probable solution to this godforsaken situation.

Pretending nothing ever happened. Like our love was never there.

Never existed.

Now I had remained on the head of the dining room table, Malcolm and mines rehearsal dinner. With my eyes staring shallowly down at the floor, words of guests whisper all around me, yet, I can't understand a single sentence.

Here was the last place I wanted to be. I did not want to marry Malcolm; he did not own my heart. He never had owned it. But soon enough, it would be handed off to him on a silver platter and all I could do was sit and watch like it was okay.

What breaks me out of my daze is princess Agnes. With her gleaming smile and bright eyes, she was one of the people I had a sense of trust for. She curtsies at me, taking a seat beside me with her large green gown.

"Good evening your majesty!" she exclaims and I force a smile. "How does it feel to be getting married in a week's time?" she inquires. Princess Agnes' one wish in life was to get married to a prince charming, but simply, the charming part was just a myth.

It was a prison.

I wanted to lie terribly so, but I didn't have enough energy in me. "I would love to be honest, Agnes. I would love to be more excited," I whisper, my voice breaking. I had never voiced aloud that I had not wished to be married to Malcolm. Her wishful eyes formed into a frown. I didn't have it in me to be deceptive today. I had been all burnt out and all I could think about was the romantic night that Eddie and I had spent together.

"What's not to love about Malcolm? He has it all, your majesty," Agnes protests, and I sigh.

"Agnes, Malcolm isn't where my heart resides," I murmur, finding myself staring at Eddie who was currently serving some socialites escargot.

Agnes catches on quite fast, her eyes shifting from me to the table where Eddie resides. "Who is that?" she questions in a chirpy tone. "He's my servant, Eddie," I reply. He catches me staring and I flinch, turning my attention back to Agnes.

"Your majesty, may I be frank?" she asks. As I take a sip of my red wine, I nod. "Hit me," I say.

"Are you an imbecile?" she asks, catching me off guard so much I start to chuckle. "Am I a what?" I furrow my eyebrows as she laughs humorlessly. "That is no servant, your majesty. He serves the look," she utters under her breath, sending chills down my spine.

"What look, pray tell?"

"The look of a royal,"

What on god's earth had put that assumption in her head?

The sudden dinging of a glass halts me from asking Princess Agnes what gives her the impression that Eddie is royalty. Father stands from his chair, a bright look on his face.

"Now, to my beautiful daughter, the Queen, Estelle," father announces, holding a glass of wine above his head, a gleaming smile looking down on me. "Congratulations on your engagement, I wish you and Malcolm a lifetime of happiness," he continues, and everyone erupts into joy, applauding.

I laugh at his sheer audacity. "Happiness?" I look at Eddie, who was carrying a silver tray, as tears start to gather in my eyes. "That's a joke," I scoff, heading out of my seat as the room remains quiet, all eyes on me.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit and pretend that everything would be alright. Although I was a queen, I felt I had no power at all. I couldn't call off this wedding. I was trapped. I didn't want to be tarnished just as my father did for making a mistake.

Picking my dress up by the hem, I rush outside as if I am in a film. The winter air freezes my skin as tears run down my pink cheeks. I couldn't promise myself to Malcolm, not when I had already broken his trust by sleeping with Eddie. The guilt had overtaken me, and all I had wanted to do was to run away.

"Estelle," a voice belonging to Malcolm calls from behind me as I lean on the marble fence. "Begone, Malcolm, for chrissakes," I whimper, staring out at the open air. "I'm not going to leave my fiance out here in the cold, so you better start talking, love," he whispers, his arms slivering around my waist as I shut my eyes tight.

"Tell me what is going on and I will help fix it," he growls, his lips headed toward the nape of my neck as I cry. "Why do you cry, my love?" he questions, kissing my neck.

"We share no love, Malcolm. Face it," I whisper as I pull away from his touch. He quickly furrows his eyebrows, staring deeply into my soul. It then quickly turns into a smile. "We cannot get married," I whisper as my voice cracks.

"It's all in your head, Estelle. You are in love with me," he whispers and I almost believe him. He cups my face with his hand.

"We are bound to be together. Mess it up, and people will come for you. You know that, don't you?" he whispers with an aggressive undertone as my eyes widen.

"You will be my wife,"