“How will you know when I’ve woken.”
Emilia huffed, already sick of all the questions. “I’ll know. Trust me. I’ll do my part. I want nothing more than to have you gone, for good. Go about your business as if nothing has changed. Pretend that you have given in and agree to marry Lord Killian. Play your part. Be the dutiful little omega he wants. Then, the night before your wedding, take the potion. You’ll fall into a deep sleep and when the court physician examines you, he’ll pronounce you dead. You’ll be interred in the royal family crept as is tradition, and both our troubles will be over.”
Rowan went over the plan again in his head as he held the small vile in his hand. The plan was flawless, as far as he could tell, yet still, something didn’t feel right. “It can’t all be as simple as that.” He said, looking up at Emilia, his eyes reflecting dozens of questions he dare not ask.
“It is that simple.” She told him, curtly. “Now, return to your rooms and try to sleep. You have a busy day today and much planning to do before the wedding. ”
“Seems a waste for an event that won’t take place.”
“True, but you have to keep up appearances. Make sure they suspect nothing or the entire plan goes to hell. Do as I’ve instructed and in a months time you’ll be free and I’ll be a duchess.”
“I know you’re doing this for your own gain, but…thank you.” He slipped the vile in his pocket and bowed to Emilia. The first bit of respect he’d ever shown her.
“I don’t want your thanks.” Emilia sneered. “I just want you gone. You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”
“Of course.” Rowan said, a hint of sadness in his voice. The Lady Emilia and her mother had been every bit as much of a thorn in Rowan’s side as he had been in theirs but he was still a bit saddened by the fact that it had come to this. In another life perhaps they could have been friends, if Emilia’s greed and lust for power had not already corrupted her soul. It’s a shame. He thought. All the time that they had spent hating each other and they could have been each others greatest allies. Now, it was too late. In a month he’d be gone and would never step foot in his father’s kingdom again.
TILL DEATH
Rowan recalled a story from his youth that his mother once told him. A beautiful Princess fell victim to her evil and jealous step-mother when she was presented with a poisoned apple. The Princess fell into a deep sleep. Many thought she was dead but, her youth and beauty still remained. She was so beautiful in fact that those who loved her could not bear to seal her away in a tomb, and so fashioned a glass coffin in which to display her. Many months passed as her death was mourned, until a handsome Prince heard of the beauty in the glass coffin and so he set out to find her and, gaze upon her beauty for himself.
Once the Prince saw her, he fell madly in love with her, though his heart was broken knowing he would never see her smile, or hear her soft voice. He would never hold her in his arms, or feel the heat of her embrace. Distraught over having lost his love before even getting the chance to know her, he decided to leave the sleeping Princess with a single kiss upon her rosy lips before departing. He ordered the lid removed from the coffin and, with a tear in his eye, knelt to kiss his lost love. The power of the kiss–true loves kiss–had broken the spell and the Princess awoke from her death like sleep. Over joyed, the Prince carried her, on horseback, to his Palace where they were at once wed, and presumably lived happily ever after.
Rowan loved the story of the beautiful Princess in the glass coffin and had often, over the years, dreamed of one day meeting his own Prince charming and being swept away to a magical kingdom where he too could live happily ever after. Unfortunately, his life was not a fairy tale and there would be no Prince charming come to rescue him from this nightmare. The only one who could save Rowan now was himself.
His day had been filled with preparations for a wedding that would never come to be. At least, not with him as the bride. After breakfast he was taken to a room to meet with the palace tailor. There was no time to make a new suit for the occasion but after taking his measurements, the tailor went to work hemming and adjusting a suit picked out for him by Lord Killian’s personal attendant. Rowan had to admit, the suit was lovely. He would have been proud to wear it on any other occasion.
The suit consisted of a White tunic and white slacks. The neck and cuffs of the tunic were adorned with gold embroidered roses and a gold, roped belt was tied at the waist. His boots were black leather and he would walk to the alter wearing a gold ringlet on his head. The suit was eloquent, stylish, and fit for a Prince. It surprised him that his father would even allow him to wear something so fine but if Lord Killian had insisted upon it then the King would probably have agreed to just to keep the peace as he really wanted this marriage to proceed without issue.
After the fitting, Rowan was dragged around the Palace by various servants so he could inspect and approve things such as floral arrangements, foods, and entertainment. He really didn’t care what decor was used or what foods were prepared. None of it mattered anyway. He nodded and approved all of it without much thought. It wasn’t as though he’d be there to enjoy it anyway. After that, Rowan and Killian were taken before the Priest who would be officiating the ceremony, and he walked them through the various steps they would be taking.
Killian would enter first and stand at the alter. Rowan would then enter, escorted to the alter on the arm of his father. He chuckled at the thought of his father walking him down the isle, sure that the King would have a disgusted look on his face the entire time. Once the King handed him off to Lord Killian, Rowan would take his place beside his future husband and their vows would then be spoken.
The Priest would then tie a golden rope around their hands, binding them together for life, and then they would both drink from a chalice of wine where each had shared a drop of their own blood. Rowan cringed at the thought of drinking Killian’s blood. If he hadn’t already planned to escape his own wedding, he might have jumped from his seat and ran then and there. Killian looked over and Rowan noticed the expression on his face. Killian wasn’t happy. Most likely due to the fact that Rowan didn’t seem even remotely interested in what the old Priest was saying.
Not wanting to give himself away, Rowan smiled, sat up straight, and at least pretended to listen to the Priest. Finally, the Priest had finished and they were excused. Killian took Rowan’s hand and led him to the dining hall where the royal family would dine together for the last time before the wedding. Much to Rowan’s dismay, he would not be missing this dinner. The King had insisted upon his attending and denying the King was not a wise thing to do. So, reluctantly, Rowan allowed Killian to escort him to a dinner that he dreaded almost as much as the wedding itself.