❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
"Come," he offered his hand to me, trying to hide the smile on his face as he opened the door, acting as if nothing had happened, and he hadn't been kissing the hell out of me.
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HEXHAM PALACE, SKELDERGATE, ALLINGTON.
EDWINA
The doors of Allington's enormous hall slowly swung inwards, and the 'oohs!' and 'aahs!' of the guests gathered bounced off the painted ceiling as everyone admired the bride standing at the threshold, clutching her father's arm.
Celestina Rotavelle had one interesting face.
To an ordinary person, she would be just another goddess with red hair and the green Rotavelle eyes, nearly a combination matching my own appearance.
But that was where the similarities stopped.
Where my red hair glowed like fire when it caught the sunlight, her red hair had undertones of cherry pink, the candles throwing the strands into reliefs of maroon crimson.
Where my green eyes were sometimes blue and sometimes green, swirling like marbles with time, her green eyes were a pure emerald, shining like cut stone glimmering with tears.
Her skin was porcelain white, almost ashen. The shade nearly matched that of Tristan, who was unusually fair. A fine sheen of sweat covered her pale brow, and the tinge of red on her cheeks a bit too red. Her skin had been evened out with layers of powder, yet it could not disguise the desperation in her jaded eyes. They shone with tears, almost like a leaf clinging to the last of its chlorophyll. She gave off the appearance of a young woman trying her best to not cry, holding herself upright but on the verge of tears.
In that moment, I almost felt sorry for Celestina Rotavelle.
Her father, Rayden Rotavelle, placed a hand on her back and pushed her forward slightly. She sighed and stepped forward delicately, daintily, trying to prolong the steps to the altar but knowing she had no choice but to walk.
They'd dressed her in white silk, seemingly made of wisps of air that hugged her curves. Her cherry red hair was worked into a fishtail braid down her back, a lush, lush red. A delicate circlet adorned her head and the diamonds in it sparkled when she moved.
Seeing his sister, Favian appreciatively whistled, pressing a kiss to her rouged cheek. She squeezed out a small smile in return as they all reached the altar where Llewellyn stood in dark blue, sad and morose, waiting for his new bride.
