The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 18

Aurora

Her husband was a cold man. She did not even need to speak to him to know. Just knowing that he was from the Volcano Islands was enough to create a rather accurate idea of what he would be like, but when she saw his rigid body, covered by ridiculously pointless armor, and his stern face with its thin-lipped mouth, which corners were perpetually turned downwards, there was no doubt in her heart. She would not love him. She would never love him.

He was brought to meet her in a solar, bathed in and warmed by the midday sun. She wore her prettiest white dress with beautiful, virtuous flower lace that crawled up her neck, past the neckline of the dress, to cover her pale throat with its design. In spite of this, his eyes did not linger on her longer than needed.

When he entered, she curtseyed as she had been taught and uttered her, “My lord,” with proper accentuation.

He bowed, a quick, stiff movement, and muttered, “My lady.”

Sybil sunk down into a curtsey as well, and they repeated the dance of courtesy.

Robert Delroy was not a man of many words, and in the case of Aurora, he was a man of no words. He did not even look at her once during the hour-long conversation, which revolved mainly on the arrangement of the wedding celebration and her dowry. Aurora kept silent, since this had obviously evolved from the first meeting between bride and groom to a business meeting regarding the transaction that was her marriage.

They married the next day. It was a Tiberan marriage, so it was of course festive and beautiful and extravagant. However, it was hard for her to share in the beaming smiles of the guests when her husband’s cold gaze would not even graze her face.

They walked their rounds without even looking at each other. He was much taller than her, and walked with a straight back and his gaze kept steadily ahead of him. When they had to kiss at the end, it was closed-mouthed and she could not help but remember the heated, passionate kissed she had shared with William less than a month earlier. This was so different, so terribly different, and she could not believe that this was not just a nightmare that she would wake up from before it got too bad.

At the wedding banquet, she sat beside him on the daïs, but they might as well have been sitting in each their end of the room. After the main course had been removed, she tried to break the silence.

“Have you ever seen a ballet?” she asked him, turning herself to him a little bit as an invitation.

He looked at her. His eyes, she noted, were a mix of yellowish brown and green. “I’ve never heard of it, no.”

“Oh,” she said. “So Queen Sybil did not tell you?”

He winced, as if in pain or even disgust. “What was she supposed to tell me?"

Aurora tried to smile in a pleasing way - a small one, not amused or overtly happy, but a playful, sweet one. “I dance the ballet.”

He frowned in surprise. “Is that so?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, feeling please at his reaction. “In fact, His Grace, the King, has graciously employed one of the best tutors to help me. If I were to start dancing professionally, I would be one of the best.”

“Well, in that case, I am sorry to have to tell you that I don’t think I can afford such a tutorship.”

She bowed her head and lowered her gaze. “Yes, the Queen has made me aware of what I should expect from this marriage.” When he did not say anything, and instead returned to his plate of food, she said, “What kinds of activities will there be for me at our home?”