Chapter 1: Bride Unseen
“Prepare yourself. Tonight is the night.”
Crema turned from the window. Her father stood in the doorway, smiling as though he had brought her the news she had been waiting for.
After three years, the Crimson Moon would rise again. Prince Giovan’s family was coming to discuss the marriage arranged when she and the prince were children.
She had imagined this evening for years. Now that it had arrived, she pressed her hands together to keep them still.
“Indeed, Father. I’ll be ready.”
He came closer and studied her face. “I’m glad you’re happy about this.”
“What do you mean?”
“This marriage was arranged a long time ago. You accepted it without a fight. I hoped you hadn’t begun to regret it.”
“Of course not.” She managed a smile. “Giovan is the future king.”
The title was easier to mention than everything else she wanted. She had imagined a home with him, children running through the palace, and a husband who would be glad to see her at the end of the day.
She had grown up believing Giovan would be her mate. Tonight, she wanted to learn whether he had been waiting for her too.
Her father drew her into a brief hug.
“Then we have nothing to worry about.”
Crema rested her cheek against his shoulder. She hoped he was right.
Her mother arrived with servants carrying dresses and jewelry. Her father stepped aside while they placed everything near the mirror.
“Marriage isn’t easy, Crema,” her mother said.
Crema looked at her. This was not quite the reassurance she had expected.
“There will be arguments and misunderstandings.” Her mother rested a hand on her shoulder. “Be patient with Giovan. This future was arranged when you were both children.”
“I know.”
But knowing about an arrangement was different from knowing the man she would marry. She wanted a chance to speak with him, away from their parents and the formal greetings.
Before she could say that, someone spoke from the doorway.
“Oh? Is all this necessary?”
Janine stood with her arms crossed. Her gaze passed over the dresses and jewelry before settling on Crema.
“Are they really working this hard to make you look presentable?”
One of the servants lowered the necklace she was holding.
“Janine,” Crema’s mother said sharply. “Watch your words.”
“What? I’m only asking.” Janine glanced at the clothes again. “Something important must be happening tonight.”
“Prince Giovan’s family is coming.”
Janine’s smile faded for a moment.
Then she looked at Crema. “Congratulations, cousin. You’re finally getting married.”
“We’re meeting his family,” Crema said.
She did not want Janine turning the visit into another reason to mock her. The wedding arrangements had not yet been discussed.
Crema had noticed how often her cousin spoke about Giovan and how closely she watched him whenever he appeared. Janine’s interest had troubled her before, but tonight she wanted to concentrate on the meeting.
Her mother moved between them.
“I have one request. Don’t cause trouble tonight.”
“Of course.” Janine stepped back toward the hall. “I wouldn’t want to ruin Crema’s special evening.”
The door closed behind her.
Crema released the breath she had been holding.
“Don’t let her bother you,” her mother said.
“I’ll try.”
She sat before the mirror while the servants helped her prepare. They chose a simple, elegant dress and tied her hair neatly with a small butterfly ribbon.
When they finished, Crema studied her reflection. She adjusted the ribbon, then lowered her hand before she could disturb it.
Would Giovan like the dress? Would he speak to her easily, or would they struggle through a conversation while their families watched?
Her father’s voice carried up from downstairs.
“They’re here.”
Crema rose too quickly. Her mother caught her hands.
“It’s normal to be nervous.”
Crema nodded, but she needed another moment before she could move.
Then she followed her mother downstairs.
King Dior entered with his family. Crema greeted him as she had been taught, listening to the formal exchanges while searching for Giovan behind the arriving guests.
He was not there.
At first, she thought he might follow them. She kept glancing toward the entrance, even after everyone had settled into the room.
The conversation continued around her. A servant offered refreshments. Crema accepted nothing.
Finally, King Dior turned to a guard.
“Where is Giovan?”
The guard bowed his head. “Prince Giovan has not arrived yet, Your Majesty.”
“Find him.”
“Your Majesty—”
“Bring him here.” The king’s voice hardened. “If he refuses to come willingly, bring him in.”
Crema looked up.
Refuses?
Her mother touched her arm. Across the room, her father’s polite smile had disappeared.
Crema tried to think of another reason for the king’s order. Perhaps Giovan had been delayed. Perhaps his father was impatient.
But the conversation had stopped, and nobody offered an explanation.
She waited with her hands folded tightly in her lap.
When the doors opened again, a guard entered alone. He went directly to King Dior and dropped to one knee.
“Your Majesty.”
“Where is my son?”
The guard swallowed. “Prince Giovan refused to come.”
Crema’s fingers tightened.
“He said he has no intention of marrying Lady Crema.”
No one spoke.
She lowered her eyes, but there was nowhere to hide from the people sitting around her. They had all heard the same words.
She had worried that Giovan might not like her. She had not prepared herself to hear his refusal delivered by a guard in front of both families.
Her mother’s hand stayed on her arm.
Crema wanted to ask whether the guard had misunderstood. Instead, she stared at the folds of her dress.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
She raised her head as Prince Giovan entered.
His presence brought no relief. He wore a dark shirt, and his shoulders were rigid. When their eyes met, she saw a tight jaw and a hard expression.
She could not tell whether his anger was directed at her, his father, or everyone in the room.
He had come after all.
But coming did not undo what he had said.
King Dior stood.
“Everything is prepared. When the Crimson Moon rises tonight, the wedding will proceed.”
“Tonight?” Crema asked.
Her father turned toward the king. “Your Majesty, we believed this evening was only for discussing the arrangements.”
“I’ll be direct.” King Dior glanced at his son. “Giovan is being distracted by another woman.”
Crema looked at the prince.
His expression grew harder, but he said nothing.
“A woman I know nothing about,” the king continued. “Someone with no place in our royal family. I will not allow a temporary obsession to destroy my son’s future.”
Crema heard the king’s judgment, but she knew nothing about the woman he was describing.
Was she the reason Giovan had refused the marriage? Had he made promises to her?
Crema wanted to hear his answer. She needed to know whether she was about to marry a man who had already chosen someone else.
King Dior faced him.
“Do you have nothing to say?”
Giovan looked at Crema.
She held his gaze, waiting. Even an honest refusal would give her more than this silence.
His eyes moved briefly over her face and her clasped hands.
Then he looked away.
The discussion continued between their fathers. Crema heard arrangements being settled, but nobody asked her whether she still wanted the wedding that night.
She had accepted the marriage before. She had not known about Giovan’s refusal or the other woman.
Now the preparations were moving ahead while both of them remained silent.
When the royal family rose to leave, Crema stood with her parents.
Giovan followed the king out.
He did not speak to her. She watched him cross the doorway, hoping he might stop long enough to explain.
He never turned back.
Only after his footsteps faded did she loosen her hands.
Her mother reached for her, but Crema looked toward the empty entrance.
The man she had waited for had finally come, and she still did not know what he wanted from her.
Hours later, music drifted up through the mansion.
Guests had arrived for a wedding Crema had not expected to take place that evening. The Crimson Moon was rising, and she was upstairs in her wedding gown.
The fabric settled around her feet as she turned toward the mirror.
This was the dress she had dreamed of wearing. She had imagined looking at herself with a smile, eager to go downstairs.
Instead, she listened to the music and wondered whether Giovan was already at the altar.
The door opened.
Janine entered and stopped when she saw the gown.
For a moment, Crema thought her cousin had come to make another cruel remark.
Then Janine crossed the room and seized the fabric with both hands.
“Janine, stop!”
Crema caught her wrists, but Janine pulled.
The sharp sound of tearing cloth cut through the music.
Crema looked down. A seam had split.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t accept this!”
Janine gripped the gown again.
Crema tried to pull the fabric free without letting it tear further.
“I met Giovan first,” Janine cried. “He was mine first!”
Another section ripped.
“Let go!”
But Janine held on, her face twisted and her eyes wet.
Crema planted her feet. “You knew our families had arranged this marriage.”
“I didn’t care. I loved him!”
Crema stared at her.
Janine had always shown interest in Giovan. But saying she loved him did not explain what he felt, or whether she was the woman King Dior had mentioned.
Before Crema could ask, Janine pulled again.
“You should have refused him! You should have stepped aside!”
Crema pushed her away.
“Enough!”
Janine stumbled back and released the gown.
Crema moved out of her reach, gathering the damaged fabric against herself. Her hands shook as she examined it.
The tear was too large to hide by smoothing the folds. Another split ran through the part Janine had pulled.
Crema had only just put the gown on. Now she could not imagine walking into a room full of guests wearing it.
Janine stood nearby, breathing hard.
Crema looked at her. “You had no right to do this.”
A sharp knock interrupted them.
“Lady Crema?” a servant called through the door. “The ceremony begins in twenty minutes.”
Crema glanced toward the door, then back at the dress.
Twenty minutes to explain what had happened. Twenty minutes to find something she could wear.
Below them, the music continued.
“Lady Crema,” the servant said again, his voice less steady. “Prince Giovan is coming upstairs.”
Janine’s face went pale.
Crema tightened her hold on the torn fabric.
Footsteps approached along the hall. She could not hear the music clearly anymore. She listened as the steps came closer, then stopped outside her room.
The handle began to turn.
Giovan was about to see the ruined gown and Janine standing beside her.
Crema knew what had happened.
She had no idea which one of them he would believe.
