Heart Over Sword-Chapter 303: Wedding of the Century (4)

In the hall where Evanna was once scared for her life, watched as Arawn sliced a servant’s hand off and felt the King’s icy stare was now a lively celebration. Like the ceremony, the hall was colourful; potted plants and plants Evanna helped grow and bloom rose like tall, intimidating stalks and trees. Many looked in wonder and awe.

Like the forest where they first kissed and Arawn proposed, luminous butterflies fluttered around, enchanting guests who were not used to such scenes. Some elves were still in awe because not all were like the warriors and ventured into the depths of Direwood Forest. Many came up to the newlyweds congratulating them, though Arawn remained expressionless to everyone he disliked, which was many, whilst Evanna smiled and beguiled those like the Princess she’d grown up to be. Now that she was his wife and connecting multiple kingdoms together, many respected her.

After the trial, nobles in Dunhurst treated Evanna the way they should have all along, but years of negligence, abuse, and bullying would not amend the resentment she felt towards them. Sure, she could smile and talk idly with them, but mostly, she gave them the cold shoulder. Here in Direwood, her time had been short as a hostage and longer as the prince’s fiancé as she planned the wedding. There had been no such treatment here.

Besides, most were enamoured by her and that she was part elf, human and fae.

"You are positively radiant," King Nuvian greeted, his hands wide, waiting for an embrace. Evanna smiled politely and accepted the King’s hug before meeting the hazel eyes of the Queen’s.

Iolena nodded her head once and gracefully pointed her hand in the direction of the table of gifts. "Our gifts cannot be wrapped and are already in your chambers."

"You shouldn’t have," Evanna smiled and curtsied. "But we are grateful for your thoughtfulness."

They will go soon, and Evanna can relax, or so she hoped. They’d already spent an hour greeting guests, conversing with them, and her feet, though not wearing any heels, hurt. However, she wore no heels, following the tradition of the snow elves; it was just a long day.

Nuvian waved his hand. "Nonsense. You are our prized granddaughter; we will spoil you with riches and gifts. Congratulations on uniting Lyvaria, Flori and Dunhurst."

"If only our daughter was as successful and graceful as you," Iolena added, looking in Loraven’s direction.

"My mother is successful, and if you continue to watch her, maybe you will learn how to be just as graceful," Evanna snapped, uncaring now that she was in the Flori court. Though she did not want to start a war, the Princess wondered how much she could get away with talking to the Queen of Lyvaria that way. She did not see the woman as family or someone loving towards her mother.

How dare Iolena insult my mother, her own daughter, in front of me, Evanna seethed.

Arawn’s hand slid across her lower back, the warmth of his hand providing support. Without speaking to one another, Evanna could already tell that no matter what she did, Arawn supported her.

Iolena glared at her granddaughter, but Nuvian stepped in with his charming smile that Evanna swore she heard others sigh at again. "Don’t mind, Iolena, it was a long, treacherous journey through the snow. She is tired."

"Ah, what is a wedding without a little family drama, though," Arawn smirked back, his hand tracing up Evanna’s back and to her shoulder. Goosebumps followed the trail of his fingertips, and her thoughts went in an entirely different direction.

Clearing her throat, Evanna turned to her husband. "Shall we dance, Arawn?" It was nice to drop formalities now, and from the way his eyes sparkled in response, she knew Arawn was ecstatic at the drop of his title. It showed to others that they were already so intimate with one another. Nobody would dare try to make a move on Evanna, lest they lose their lives, heads or sexual organs, woman or man, but it was as though an arrow shot straight through his chest, and it warmed at the sound of his name leaving her lips in such a setting.

"We shall." Arawn accepted Evanna’s hand and pressed a light kiss on the markings of her wrist, the markings revealing their vows to one another. He held her gaze and hid his smile from the slight shiver that ran through her body. Oh, it was going to be a delight to unravel her this evening.

Although he was ready to sweep Evanna away right here and now, Arawn would play his dutiful part. The moment it was acceptable to leave, though, Arawn would zip off with his delectable little wife.

By then, he did not care whether it was rude. It was their wedding; they could do what they wanted. As Arawn elegantly led Evanna across the dance floor, King Thalinal watched from a column, enjoying the attention on his son for once. Those nearby noticed Thalinal but stayed away; his aura was intimidating, icy and downright scary. His people loved him, though.

Thalinal was a strict, wise and mostly fair ruler, which improved much of the Flori’s way of life. The King watched his son, happy and smiling down at his wife; in turn, one side of Thalinal’s lips twitched up, feeling, for the first time in years since his wife’s death, a warmth flourish across his chilled, icy body.

"*I see that.*" A familiar feminine voice spoke from the side.

Thalinal did not need to look to know who was beside him. Who, but Loraven, dared to approach him? "*I know not of what you speak.*"

"*Liar.*"

Thalinal arched his eyebrow and glanced at the Princess of Lyvaria. "What do you want, Loraven?"

"A dance." Loraven held her hand out, ignoring the many stares and hushed whispers about someone daring to not only approach King Thalinal but ask for a dance! How absurd! He would never!

Whether they were joined by the union of their children, the King would not-

"For old time’s sake?" Loraven added, not accepting his refusal, as she slid her hand into his and pulled him away from his spot.

Thalinal rolled his eyes, looking more like his son than ever before with his younger features and sudden boyish attitude. The gossip roared to life more, and many wondered about their relationship. Those who were in the inner circles of the royals were the only ones to remember Thalinal and Loraven’s friendship and how far back it went with his beloved wife. They did not gossip. If they did, their throats would be slit.

Th𝓮 most uptodate nov𝑒ls are publish𝒆d on freew(e)bnove(l).𝓬𝓸𝓶