Who gets married for that reason? - Chapter 16

A Flood of Forgotten Emotions

For far too long, emotions left to fester had been neglected, their slow decay unnoticed. It felt as if they might spill over at any moment.

Yet, standing before him was Lydia,who, instead of prying or urging him to speak, simply waited in quiet patience. That, perhaps, made it bearable.

“I’ve always been alone, so I find myself wondering what it must feel like.”

Only then did it occur to Ilian that Lydia, too, had lost her family. And unlike him, she had no one left.

Sensing the somber shift in his emotions, Lydia continued walking, gazing upon the garden bathed in the hues of the setting sun. A soft smile graced her lips.

“You needn’t look at me that way. I truly am fine. There are days when I’m not, of course, but even so.”

She had seemed enamored with the garden from the start. Resting her chin on the balustrade, she let go of his hand.

Strands of Lydia’s hair caught the fading sunlight, glistening in fiery hues of red and gold.

Ilian reached out instinctively, intending to smooth back her hair.

As the fine strands brushed against his fingertips, he suddenly realized what he was doing and hesitated. But before he could withdraw his hand, Lydia turned to look at him.

“Ah, I forgot and let go of your hand,” she remarked casually, before tilting her head. “Now that I think about it, are you alright? We’ve barely been holding hands lately. Your curse seemed stable, but have you been in pain? Have your symptoms worsened?”

Her sudden concern was as natural as the way she reached out and took his hand again.

“The symptoms are always the same. The curse torments me as though it seeks to end me…”

Ilian’s mind drifted to the past few days.

Keeping his rising fury at Madeline Inès in check had not been easy. The woman was determined to set foot in Esteban once more, and the very thought of it seethed within him.

Work had been his refuge,an endless mountain of tasks kept his mind occupied, leaving no room for rest.

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

Lydia’s fingers pressed gently against his forehead as if checking his temperature. Standing on tiptoe, she examined him with evident concern.

He had minimized physical contact with her, and without her touch, the familiar agony had returned, stealing his sleep.

So yes, exhaustion weighed heavily upon him.

“Right now, I’m fine.”

At this moment, with all else set aside, focusing solely on Lydia, he truly was fine.

“Just for now?”

“Yes.”

Her furrowed brow betrayed her lingering worry. Ilian, amused, pressed a finger against the crease between her brows.

“Don’t concern yourself too much. I’ve carried this curse long before you arrived, and I’ve managed.”

“Not ‘managed’,you’ve merely endured.”

“You always have a retort ready, don’t you?”

It had been so long since someone had spoken to him like this. Even his sister’s nagging had lessened once he had become the head of the family.

And yet, the sensation was not unpleasant. In truth, he found that it suited him well.

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“This is… a bit excessive.”

On the day of her wedding dress fitting, that was Lydia’s first impression.

Seated behind her, the Marquis spoke without hesitation.

“Not at all. It suits you perfectly.”

“His Lordship is right. You look absolutely stunning”

the dressmaker interjected eagerly, cutting off Lydia’s words before she could object.

“I worried we might need alterations, but it fits beautifully as it is!”

The bodice of the dress was adorned with intricate embroidery, each stitch a testament to the countless hours of craftsmanship that had gone into its making.

It was, without question, a masterpiece.

“It does look breathtaking,” Lydia admitted.

She wasn’t sure how many layers of fine fabric had been draped over one another, but the skirt spread around her in a perfect circle, heavier than it appeared.

The weight of the gown enveloped her, nearly swallowing her whole.

It was almost a shame that such a magnificent dress would be worn only once,for a wedding that was, in truth, nothing more than a façade.

“Breathing, however, is another matter entirely.”

The seamstresses had laced the corset so tightly in their pursuit of the perfect silhouette that she could barely move.

The moment she attempted to take a step, the unfamiliar height of her heels, combined with the weight of the gown, threw her off balance. She wobbled precariously.

“Careful.”

A firm hand steadied her.

She felt the cool metal of a signet ring beneath her palm as her hand landed atop Ilian’s.

He flinched ever so slightly at the unexpected contact.

Through the mirror, their reflection appeared undeniably intimate,like a couple deeply in love, eager for their impending union.

Ilian stood close, his grip steady and secure, as if unwilling to let her go.

But that was far from the truth.

The watching attendants were the reason for their pretense.

Even so, the illusion of affection was so seamless that Lydia almost found herself believing in it.

She reminded herself,again,that she was here as a healer.

That was why she instinctively sought his hand, why she allowed their touch to linger. It was a means of assessing his condition, nothing more.

That was how she preferred to see it.

Yet his hand remained, unwavering against her waist.

The warmth seeped through the layers of fabric, impossible to ignore.

Seeking a distraction, Lydia spoke.

“What if I trip on the day of the ceremony? I can barely move my arms.”

Though it wasn’t a secret, Ilian’s closeness made her voice drop to a near whisper.

A low chuckle reverberated behind her.

The warmth of his breath skimmed her exposed nape, sending an inexplicable shiver down her spine.

Flustered, Lydia tightened her grip on his hand, willing her heart to steady.

Ilian, either unaware or indifferent to her unease, replied smoothly.

“To spare my bride any embarrassment, I shall be as vigilant as I am today.”

“Even if you’re far away, you’ll drop everything and run to catch me?”

It was a lighthearted jest,perhaps a sign of how comfortable she had grown around him.

“If my most precious bride wishes it, then so it shall be. Ah, just in time.”

His voice rose slightly as he reached out to take something from an attendant,without releasing her hand.

“That… surely not.”

A resplendent tiara was carefully placed atop her head.

“Once, the royal family was in dire debt to our house,” Ilian murmured.

“In return for saving them from ruin, we claimed the queen’s coronation tiara. It was a small price for them to pay.”

“I knew it was a royal heirloom, but I never heard that part of the story.”

“It’s a disgrace the royal family prefers to forget. Only we retain the truth.”

“But is it truly alright for me to wear it?”

Draped in white, crowned in diamonds, Lydia barely recognized herself.

“That’s precisely why you must wear it.” Ilian’s voice was steady.

“It’s better they talk about your jewels than about you.”

“I’d prefer that, honestly. If only I could disappear beneath all this finery, too.”

Her words were sincere. With the king, queen, and even the princess,who had once longed for this marriage,attending, she dreaded the ceremony more with each passing moment.

“Remember just one thing, Lydia.”

She instinctively lowered her gaze, uneasy.

Ilian’s fingers brushed her cheek, tilting her chin up.

“You are the only woman I have ever chosen to wed, and the only Marquise of this generation. That is what you are to me.”

Spoken differently, it might have been a confession of love.

But both of them knew the truth.