6. Henri

I scented him the second I walked into the hallway leading to the chapel. He was here. My mate was here. Leave it to me to find my mate on my wedding day. They scented of shifter though, so they'd understand the marriage thing. I hoped.

My fox wanted to break through my skin and find him, but that wouldn't end well. My father didn't keep me completely isolated all of this time just so I could run off and find my true mate. Nope. He'd make sure I didn't get far, and with my luck, he'd also make sure my mate and I never crossed paths. This arrangement was too important for him to let it go for my happiness. He didn't give even half a shit about that.

I just had to go through with the marriage and figure it out from there. My soon-to-be husband would understand—he was a shifter too. For all I knew, he had a true mate as well. Maybe he'd become my partner and help me find my mate. Stranger things had happened.

My stomach dropped. The words of my father kept ringing in my head. We had to consummate this marriage. It wasn't optional. It was also all kind of messed up. That was a bridge I was going to have to cross when I came to it. First I had to survive the day.

I walked down the aisle to the front of the chapel. In a human wedding, I'd have chosen all of the people walking with me. There would've been groomsmen and my sister carrying flowers, and I wasn't altogether sure what else. Instead, it was security dressed like they were my besties. At least this ceremony didn't mean anything to me. If it had, all of that would've made it exponentially worse.

The scent kept getting stronger and stronger as I progressed. I wanted to look around, to figure out who it was. But I kept my head forward and did as I was told. There would be time to figure this all out later. But if I fucked up this wedding? I might be back under 24-hour babysitting, and then what? I'd be alone.

When I stepped in front of the altar and the person officiating the ceremony, I was sure it was them. They were older and not what I'd call my type, but scents didn't lie. This was getting more and more twisted by the second. And then the man had my future husband stand beside me.

I'd been wrong. So very, very wrong. My future husband was my mate. I was arranged to be married to my mate. Fate had a sense of humor, I'd give them that.

I looked at my mate and smiled, but he gave nothing away. I held onto the belief that maybe it was because we had to pretend we weren't mates. Why would that be? I didn't know. But it was better than the alternative: that he was rejecting our bond or possibly not even feeling it.

The ceremony was fine, I guess. I wasn't used to the customs of humans, so maybe it wasn't that great? But it had music and people pretending to cry with joy, so it was fine.

And then the part I was actually wanting to happen arrived. He told us we could kiss. I wasn't expecting a sensual kiss that knocked me off my feet or anything, but I was expecting far more than the quick peck I received. The kiss had been just enough that it had me begging for more.

After we were introduced as husbands, we walked out together. My husband offered me his arm, and I gladly accepted. My fox wanted his touch. Heck, I did too.

We were directed to stand in a line where a group of people all shook hands with us and congratulated us. My husband—such a weird word—greeted them by name and position. These weren't just random wedding guests. They were there for politics. Each of them held some sort of political role. There was a president, a king, a prime minister, and even a few princes. It was the who's who of royalty. One after another, they congratulated us, and I played my part as the dutiful new spouse, all excited about our upcoming lives together.

Once the last hand was shaken, we were whisked away to a room on the other side of the palace. This place was freaking huge. And not even filled with character so that it was charmingly huge. It was gaudy as heck, and I was about to live here.

I was hoping we'd be able to talk at our next location. But no, instead, we had to get 42 billion photos. And not normal photos either. Each one was so awkwardly posed I doubted they'd get a single usable one out of it.

The photographer seemed nice enough. Zero percent of this was his fault. He had us standing here, there, and everywhere and each time posed in the most awkward position. It was dreadful just standing. All I could think about was my mate who stood beside me silently. He still had yet to acknowledge that he liked me, much less recognized me as his mate. Then again, I probably hadn't done so for him. Everything happened all at once. I was lucky I knew my name.

The entire day was such a fiasco. Hours went by—not in the "it felt like hours" way, but in the "three hours ticking off on the clock" way. And even then we weren't done. Someone came into the garden we were now in to tell my mate something. The person shooting us was not pleased, but what could he do? My mate was the next king.

"It looks like they're ready for us for dinner," the man said. "It shall be a pleasant evening."

We ended up sitting at the end of a long table, the room filled with people, all of them watching us intently. Everything we said was being listened to. Every bit of food we ate being watched. Which meant I ended up not feeling comfortable doing either.

I wanted to ask my now-husband what he liked to be called, if he even liked the food we were eating, if he had picked out the food to begin with or if that was done by a royal party planner. Just random questions that popped into my mind.

On the other hand, I wanted to tell him my name—even though he already knew it from the wedding ceremony—but it would be different. I could even tell him why my name was spelled weird. I wanted to form a connection with him. That would've been nice, but it didn't seem to be in the cards for us tonight.

Apparently, when you were royalty and you got married, there were expectations. And those expectations had very little to do with your happiness. Oh, well. It had to get better, right? We were mates, after all. Please let it get better.