Prologue
FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE
Samuel looks at his reflection in the mirror. His hands are bejeweled with rings and so are his locs. He smooths out the white velvet fabric of his tunic with a shaky exhale as the attendant adjusts the shoulder tassels from the side. Staring at the attendant through the mirror, he whispers “That’s enough for now,” and nods with a thankful smile.
Joaquín watches Samuel four steps behind, their eyes meeting through the looking-glass.
“Nervous, my Lord?” Joaquín asks. There’s a slight smile on his lips.
“You have no idea.” Samuel answers. He fiddles with one of his rings, it’s adorned with a lovely ruby, and he thinks about how another one is about to get added to his fingers in two hours. “I’m about to become King consort. That’s about to be real.”
Joaquín tilts his head a bit. “Hasn’t it been real since your engagement with King Steven?”
Samuel scoffs. He darts his eyes on his hands, then walks away from the mirror. “You know that’s not true, Torres.”
Joaquín usually follows, but the room is small enough to watch his Lord from afar. Besides, Samuel seems to need some space to breathe.
A lot of things will happen after the marriage, and a lot of things have happened even before. Steven’s grief over the premature death of his father and James’s guilt of not being able to protect the King had all weighed on him all at once — and it doesn’t count the predicament the three of them are in just yet. When does it end?
He wanted one thing.
One thing.
A knock on the door, and both Samuel and Joaquín turn. Joaquín strides to answer the door immediately. He’s whispering with the other attendant, looking at Samuel momentarily, then turns back to whisper again.
Samuel blinks away and takes a few more steps just towards the window, the courtyard visible with guests walking around before the ceremony. He spots his friends, Anthony and Rhodes and Natalia, and he dreads the idea of them witnessing vows composed of half-truths and some lies.
Joaquín hurriedly walks back to his Lord. “Just stay here, my Lord, we’ll take care of it.”
“Take care of what?” Samuel answers breathy and low as he leans towards Joaquín. He has an idea. He needs clarification.
The door bursts open. None of the attendants situated outside nor the guards have managed to stop the knight with his armor so dirty and dull and black as the night sky as per his request. His metal boots clatter against the polished marble floor. With one heavy swipe, he removes his helmet and drops it on the floor with an echo, shaking his head to clear his face from his long hair. He takes a breath, glacier eyes taking in the white garment Samuel is in. There’s a look in his eyes that feels hopeful, that speaks a thousand words — a few of them being it should’ve been me.
Samuel’s brows perk up into an expression of relief and uncertainty.
James.
The one thing.