Chapter 26

T he guests collectively gasped as the koel and then Liana and her attendants appeared at the steps of the k?lajan under a magnificent flower arch.

The bride clutched a wild native bouquet woven with white and cream wildflowers, and her veil and dress fluttered in the breeze, mirroring her heart’s nerves.

K’Lita gave Liana a squeeze on her arm. ‘Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be. Sante both for being here.’ Liana’s whisper overflowed with emotion. ‘For supporting me. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

K’Shana smiled at her newfound friend. ‘We’re so proud of you, Kwen? , and your service to our crown. It also helps that you’re such a beautiful bride.’

K’Lita nudged her. ‘Now get your Djuik !’

Liana arched a brow at the word, the official title given to a Queen’s non-Ilkanite husband.

It still sounded surreal to her.

The whole freakin’ affair was out of this world, and with a shaky inhale, she stepped out into the unknown, flanked by her attendants.

The koel floated to the side, joining the guests, as her final trill echoed through the air.

Liana came up next to Kaxim under the pavilion, the earthiness of the war camp mingling with the faint scent of incense from the priest’s altar.

Her heart thudded in her chest. Not from the usual pre-wedding jitters but from the proximity of the man standing beside her.

The fierce, unyielding Commander who was now her husband-to-be.

He turned to face her.

His presence gave off a silent charisma, dominating the space without speaking.

Yet somehow, he was removed from it all, aloof, as if not quite in communion with the celebration unfolding around him.

Their eyes met, clashed, and heated with a lightning-fast smolder.

She lurched, a fever running through her.

Her eyes raked over him.

Fokk, he was so handsome.

From his tall, imposing form to his broad shoulders filling out his formal wedding attire and the ceremonial robe, with its intricate embroidery and unyielding collar.

His face was set in a scowl.

The scar on his face rippled, his dark brows drawn and furrowed. It was as if he’d still not reconciled with the idea of this union and that it was a burden he had no choice but to bear.

All through the ceremony, he was cold and taciturn.

He stood stiff, which made her chest tighten.

She detected the uncertainty rolling off him in waves, his reluctance to commit to the marriage of convenience that bound them together.

As they exchanged vows, Liana found herself studying his features.

His strong jaw was clenched tight, and his mouth, though shaped by politeness, held a certain harshness as if the words of commitment were bitter on his tongue.

And yet, when their hands touched while exchanging rings, she sensed a spark—a momentary jolt that made her wonder if he thought it, too.

His fingers, rough and calloused from years of wielding a sword, were gentle as they brushed against hers, but he withdrew, almost as if the contact had burned him.

‘Do you take this woman to be your Royal Kwen? and Devoted Wife, Commander?’

‘I do.’ Kaxim’s response to the priest’s question was clipped and polite, with his tight rumble hinting at his wariness.

Her mind, body, and soul churned when Liana said her vows.

Taking an inhale, she spoke with all the warmth and sincerity she could muster, hoping that, in time, Kaxim might see the possibility of something more between them.

‘Do you take this man to be your King and Husband, Kwen? ?’

‘I do.’

At her husky utterance, the man before her locked up. He barely acknowledged her, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the gathering of elders, generals, and dignitaries.

When he did glance her way, it was brief, as if he was forcing himself to acknowledge her presence.

Yet, despite the distance he maintained, something in those fleeting looks intrigued her—an emotion simmering just beneath the surface, something he was trying to suppress.

She inhaled and ignored it, unwilling to delve deeper or ask him via their soul bond why he was so shut down.

‘Do you promise to honor each other, uphold the other, and continue the legacy of our kingdoms with new life and vigor?’

‘We do.’

Elder K’Lita stepped forward for the more ceremonial aspects of the wedding.

Kaxim and Liana knelt before the altar, where a pair of crowns lay on cushions.

The Elder reached for the first diamond- and pearl-encrusted coronet and lay it on Liana’s head.

‘You have proven yourself, Liana, in battle, even falling by a sword for your people. Your people choose to bestow you as the High Kwen? of Ilkan. A leader and protector of our people.’

Liana’s fingers trembled at the heaviness of the wreath placed on her, overwhelmed, for she had never sought power or titles.

‘I accept,’ she said, her voice ringing clear and true. ‘I will be the High Kwen? , and I will stand beside Kaxim to defend Ilkan against all who threaten it.’

Elder K’Lita did the same for Kaxim.

His coronet was simpler, and his new title as High Djuik of Ilkana City gave him the title of Lord over the capital.

The couple then stood atop the sacred dais as ceremonial robes were draped around them.

The Ilki elders chanted ancient blessings, their voices rising and falling like the wind.

Liana closed her eyes, letting the weight of their words settle into her bones.

As the chanting reached a crescendo, Elder Nakan stepped forward, holding a gleaming chalice. ‘Drink, Liana, and let the vitality of Ilkan flow through you.’

She took the vessel with steady hands, the liquid inside shimmering like molten gold. As she raised it to her lips, she caught Kaxim’s gaze by her side. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of them, bound by duty and destiny.

The spirit burned as it slid down her throat, spreading warmth through her veins. She perceived the power of generations of High Kwen?s before her, their strength and wisdom becoming her own.

Elder Nakan placed a heavy scepter in her hand when the chalice was empty. ‘Rise, High Kwen? Liana, protector and leader of Ilkan.’

Liana rose as the gathered nobles and warriors bowed their heads in reverence.

Her heart swelled with purpose, vowing to bear it with all her might and grace.

‘People of Ilkan and esteemed guests,’ she said, her voice ringing through the hall. ‘I stand in front of you not just as your High Kwen? but as one who has grown to love this land and its people. I vow to lead with wisdom, to protect with courage, and to serve with compassion. Together, we will face the challenges ahead and forge a future worthy of our ancestors’ dreams.’

Liana’s gaze found Kaxim’s once more as the small crowd cheered.

With palpable relief, she tagged a glimmer of something that made her heart race - respect, admiration, and perhaps even the spark of unbidden desire.

Following the ceremony, guests mingled under woven umbrellas while the Queen’s servers set up the k?lajan for the after-party.

At the same time, the royal couple stood shoulder to shoulder in a receiving line, greeting each guest while ignoring the ratcheting tension between them.

To forget her troubles, Liana focused on warmly thanking each guest for their attendance.

Kaxim, on the other hand, mumbled a few words and spent the rest of the time staring off into the distance.

Liana resisted the urge to stick a sharp elbow in his side for his brooding moodiness.

She suspected it’d make things worse and possibly draw attention from her guests, so she settled on clenching her jaw and grinding through the formalities.

The only aspects that calmed her shot nerves were the lyre quartet and the koel , which provided a soothing musical interlude.

Guests were ushered in for the celebration meal as twilight fell on the tented celebration, setting every surface aglow with golden illumination.

The reception began with Kione and the Kíríga of Katánē giving the groom’s toasts, which had everyone in gales of laughter as they shared stories from Kaxim’s younger and wilder days.

Ilki’s best chefs had designed a refreshing summer menu.

The grand feast was a spectacle of culinary artistry, a celebration of abundance and tradition that filled the ancient hall with tantalizing aromas and vibrant colors.

Long tables were laden with generous platters, every one a masterpiece of flavor and presentation, inviting guests to indulge in the bounty.

Massive sharing plates featured an array of delicate cheeses, each aged to perfection and paired with rich, tangy dips made from roasted chickpeas, pureed lentils, and sun-dried tomatoes.

The salads were a riot of color, with fresh greens and jewel-like pomegranate seeds, all dusted with a fragrant blend of crushed spices—coriander, sumac, and a hint of anise.

Thick, seared cuts of meat, rubbed with a fusion of cumin, paprika, and cardamom, their juices mingling with the dark, savory relish that accompanied them.

Alongside these were grilled root vegetables—sweet potatoes, parsnips, and beets—coated in a saffron-and-citrus-infused yogurt, their sweetness balanced by the tartness of the creamy sauce.

Grilled asparagus and slender spears of courgettes, brushed with garlic butter and charred to perfection, added a bright green vibrancy to the table.

Loaves of fresh baked leavened bread, still warm from the oven, were piled high in woven baskets. Their golden crusts were sprinkled with spices and coarse sea salt.

The feast was a celebration not just of Ilkana’s best cuisine but of the land and lakes that provided it—each delightful morsel a treat amid the war they were caught in.

The food was paired with the best wines and spirits from the Katánian’s army supply.

Throughout the reception, Kaxim, who now sat by her side on a dais made for the royal couple, remained distant.

He moved stiffly as if the fine clothes were a straitjacket and the formalities a chain wound around his neck.

When he ate, it was sparing; his movements were controlled, and his manner was curt when addressed.

He answered questions with short, efficient sentences, and when he was done speaking, he would retreat into reticence, his discomfort palpable.

Liana noted how he avoided her gaze as if trying to create an invisible wall between them even as they sat together.

Liana glanced sideways at Kaxim at the grand wedding table, the murmur of their guests’ conversation filling the air around them.

The Commander’s face was set in a stony expression. His jaw clenched as he pushed morsels on his plate, his silence weighing on her.

‘Is there something wrong with the food, Commander?’ she asked, her voice dipped, meant only for him.

His eyes remained fixed on the goblet in his hand. ‘The meal is fine,’ he clipped.

Liana’s heart burned, but her smile persisted, though it was more like a mask now, a crafted facade to keep up appearances in front of their guests.

‘Then why do you look like you’re chewing on nails?’ she whispered.

Kaxim turned to meet her gaze, his obsidian eyes intense, his lodestone pulsing. ‘You know why,’ he murmured.

His rasp was just audible over the clinking of glasses and the soft laughter from the other end of the table.

Liana’s face faltered for a moment. ‘We’ve already had this discussion,’ she said, trying to maintain a light tone, though the strain was evident. ‘We’re married now. There’s no going back.’

‘That doesn’t mean I have to like it,’ he shot back. His words were as sharp as a dagger.

Liana winced at a pang of hurt from his remarks but refused to let it show.

Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips still curved in a polite smile for their audience. ‘You might at least try to look happy,’ she whispered, her voice trembling. ‘This is supposed to be our wedding day.’

Kaxim’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a flicker of emotion passing over his face before he masked it. ‘I never wanted this,’ he growled.

‘And you think I did?’ Liana countered, her eyes flashing with indignation. ‘But we’re here now and must make the best of it.’

He opened his mouth to retort. However, one of the guests calling out a toast in their honor interrupted his flow.

Liana plastered a bright smile and raised her glass, as did Kaxim, though his expression resembled more of a grimace.

As the visitors cheered and drank, Liana leaned closer to him again. ‘At least fokkin’ pretend, Kaxim. For the sake of our people.’

He stared at her for a long moment, and she caught the conflict in his eyes. The tension between them was almost palpable, a crackling undercurrent threatening to spill over at any instant.

‘I don’t know how to,’ he growled, churlish as fokk.

But then, just as she feared he might say something that would ruin the evening, Liana forced a light laugh, tilting her head.

‘Get over yourself, you fokkin’ drab seed eater,’ she said.

She added a teasing smirk. ‘It’s not every day a man like you gets to marry someone like me.’

Kaxim blinked, taken aback by her sudden shift in tone.

He stared at her, his stern expression wavering as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Then, to her surprise, the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant upturn.

‘Am I that tragic of a joy-suck?’ he asked.

‘You’re a miserable fokk,’ she declared.

His chest shook, a low laugh rumbling from it. After a beat, he shot her a look from his smoldering silver eyes. ‘I am, aren’t I? I tend to get into a funk and stew like my current reality is an eternal ordeal.’

Liana chuckled as the strain between them eased a fraction. ‘Ordeal, hmm? Well, at least it’ll make for a good story.’

Kaxim’s smirk widened, though his eyes still showed a shadow of reluctance. ‘I suppose it will,’ he conceded, lifting his goblet again.

Liana allowed herself to relax if only a little. The pressure wasn’t all gone, but they’d found a fragile peace for now.

Now and then, she would catch him staring at her when he thought she was unaware.

An intense emotion smoldered in those stolen glances, a heat that belied his outward frigidity.

It was as if he was trying to figure her out, to understand this woman he was now bound by duty to whom he wanted nothing to do with on a personal level.

Regardless of his chilly mask, she sensed the passion within him, a fire he was reluctant to let burn too bright where she was concerned.

A restlessness rose between them, a push and pull that made her heart race even as she struggled to make sense of the man who had just become her husband.

He was a contradiction—a man of few words and cold manners, yet with eyes that spoke volumes when he dropped his guard, if only for a moment.

As the night wore on and the reception wound down, Liana couldn’t shake the perception that Kaxim’s reluctance was more than his misgivings to marry. Instead, it rested on a fear of what might happen if he allowed himself to care, to feel.

She was saddened by the walls he had built around his heart, barriers she wasn’t sure she’d ever breach.