50. Dagmara

Dagmara’s heart pounded in her chest. This was the moment that she had dreamed about in childhood—getting married to her future husband. Not once in her life did she think it would be like this.

The doors to the ballroom remained closed, waiting for her grand entrance. She simply had to make it up the top of the staircase where they set up an altar so that everyone in attendance could see them on the balcony.

Bernadette had told her to legally marry the king, then immediately search his room. If things went wrong, she would be waiting with a carriage. This was now a direct order from the queen, and Dagmara had no choice but to go through with it. She prayed everything would go as planned.

Where was Magdalena? Dagmara hadn’t heard from her friend at all. Was Magda on her way here to Ilusauri? Had something happened to her in Flaustra? Did she decide not to come at all?

If you’re going to arrive, Magda, it’s now or never.

“You look beautiful, Princess.”

“Thank you.” Dagmara smiled at Martine, as she flattened her hands against the dress.

Her wedding dress was a full-length gown with a striking, fitted bodice that accentuated her waist, before curving up into long sleeves made of only sparkling beadwork that covered her breasts, shoulders, and arms. The back plunged into a deep v-shape, while the skirt flared out dramatically in mixed layers of silver and white, The heavy fabric was embellished with intricate silver embroidery that fanned out into a long train. Her silver-dyed hair was left hanging loosely around a diamond-studded crown.

“You also look nervous,” Martine noted, letting a smile form on her face.

Dagmara sighed. “I didn’t think I would be so nervous. I thought this wedding would be a formality. But…by the guardians, the way I feel for him…” her voice trailed off, embarrassed.

“You’re falling in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.

Dagmara nodded.

The fanfare began, and it was time to enter. She fixed her crown, feeling the sharp points of the diamonds nearly like daggers. She felt awkward not holding anything in her hands, but in Ilusaurian tradition, her hands needed to be free for the ceremony.

The doors opened, and white light poured onto her. She forced her feet to move down the makeshift aisle of people standing in groups on either side of the ballroom. There were tables set up for the dinner later, and a large area of the floor remained open for her dance with the king. Queen Bernadette had a special location to watch the wedding on the balcony, surrounded by Azuremi guards and her advisors. The musicians were on the other side of the balcony, their notes echoing through the room. The sun was setting, and rain began to fall, tapping on the glass windows beyond the chandeliers.

Then Dagmara saw him. He was at the top of the staircase, his hands clasped behind his back, in white attire. A white cape fluttered behind him, stitched in silver. He looked like a knight in shining armor. Or rather, a king.

Her king.

The world faded away, the music a distant lullaby. She ignored the hushed voices of the crowd, unable to take her eyes off Claude. She had never seen him more handsome. His expression softened when he saw her, expressions of pride, lust, and yearning crossing his features.

She ascended the stairs, willing her health to be kind to her for once in her life. She needed to get through today. That was all.

She felt her heart rate increase with each step she took, but she was nearing Claude, and she focused solely on him.

When she reached the top, Claude took her hands, and it was as if electricity rushed through her body. By the guardians, she wanted to grab his face and kiss him then and there. He had hidden his scar once more, but she would’ve preferred to see his true self.

“You’re stunning,” Claude whispered as the maidens fixed Dagmara’s dress.

“Thank you, but you’re…you’re stunning as well.”

A soft laugh escaped his lips. His smile was captivating.

The officiant proceeded with the ceremony, starting with a long list of what they should and shouldn’t do in marriage. Then the ceremonial caster arrived, the Azuremi tradition, and Claude and Dagmara interlocked their hands before reaching them into the liquid. As soon as it molded around their grasp to later become a sculpture, another maiden washed the excess of the casting liquid off their palms.

At that point, Dagmara knew she had been standing for too long. She could feel darkness dancing in the corner of her vision, her stomach roiling with nausea. The world began to tilt.

“Are you alright?” Claude whispered. The officiant could hear, but none of the guests in attendance did.

“Lightheaded, but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a good thing we all kneel for the next portion of the ceremony.”

“We do?”

Claude glanced at the officiant. “Right?”

Initiating the sequence, Claude knelt, leaning back on his heels to face Dagmara. Dagmara followed his lead, and her maidens frantically rushed to readjust her gown. She hadn’t read about this anywhere, and deep down she knew Claude was doing this just for her.

The officiant let out a scoff before clumsily taking one knee, guiding them into the vows.

“My partner, my better half, my queen,” Claude said in Azuremi for her. “I will put you first, keep you safe, and never leave your side. Whatever the world may bring, we will face hand in hand.” Then he extended his palm toward the officiant. The man pricked Claude’s finger, extracting a single drop of blood. It landed in a concave spot on the backside of a ring. The diamond gemstone was then closed, concealing the drop of blood inside. Claude took Dagmara’s hand and put the ring on her middle finger. “With my blood, I am yours.”

Dagmara was about to proceed into her vows. She was binding her life to this man, whether she remained married to him or not. There was no turning back. If she and Magda switched places now, even if no one noticed, it would always be Dagmara’s blood inside Claude’s wedding ring. A piece of her would always belong to Claude somehow.

“My partner, my better half, my king,” Dagmara began her side of the vows, hoping her Ilusaurian was intelligible. By his smile, she couldn’t tell if it was awful or if he found her accent adorable. “I will put you first, keep you safe, and never leave your side. Whatever the world may bring, we will face hand in hand.” She repeated the same Ilusaurian tradition. The prick of her finger stung, but she didn’t mind. With a drop of her blood in his ring, she guided it onto his finger. “With my blood, I am yours.”

“For the betterment of our kingdoms,” he whispered.

She smiled. “And the safety of our people.”

He stood first before helping her to her feet. She felt secure with his guidance. Then they descended the staircase, hand in hand, before the music shifted to the Azuremi waltz.

They danced with one another, their bodies moving perfectly in time, his cape fluttering behind him. Her chest was pressed against his, and his arms supported her. She was lost in his eyes, and it was as if no one else existed.

As the song came to a close, they remained in one another’s arms, unable to break apart.

His hand shifted from her back to her neck, cradling her head. Leaning closer, he rested his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, breathing in his cologne and knowing there was no other place in the world she would rather be.

“I want to respect your Azuremi traditions,” he whispered, “but why must I wait until midnight to kiss you?”

“By the guardians, that is the worst tradition ever,” she laughed. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Their noses were touching. “I want you to kiss me.”

“I will kiss every inch of your body, and more,” he said. “I would take you right now in front of all these people.”

Heat rushed through her body, her blood pulsing. “What’s stopping you?”

“I am a king, and I respect your kingdom’s traditions,” he said. “Besides, your mother is watching.”

She laughed. “If she wasn’t?”

“You’ll find out tonight when I have you all to myself.”

The music shifted into another tune, and a guard made an announcement as they brought out the table for the married couple, raised on a platform so they would be higher than everyone in attendance. Claude held out his hand to Dagmara, and she accepted it. He led the way over to the table, Sacha, Pierre, and Martine falling into step around them to separate them from the guests.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” Pierre whispered. “There is something you should see.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, it’s about…” he hesitated, “it’s important.”

“Alright,” Claude said.

Claude led Dagmara to the front, stepping up on the riser their table was on, and pulled out her seat. As she sat, he laid a finger under her chin and lifted her head to him. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the other governors are questioning why Lionel isn’t here. I’m hoping it has nothing to do with the Celesta.”

Then Claude proceeded up the staircase, flanked by Pierre and Sacha. He exited the room, leaving Dagmara by herself.

“You can eat,” Dagmara told Martine, feeling her presence.

“I’ll eat later,” Martine replied, her hands behind her back as she surveyed the crowd.

Dagmara, on the other hand, wouldn’t risk eating too much. If she ate too big of a meal, she would become fatigued. Another symptom of her unknown condition.

Everyone settled for the dinner, taking a seat at the banquet tables. There was a special table reserved in the back for Queen Bernadette.

Briefly, Dagmara caught Sabien’s eye as he sauntered across the back of the room, whispering to each guard he passed. He maintained an attentive gaze on the crowd, taking a post by the grand windows. The rain pelted the glass behind him, night finally falling. He looked up at Dagmara, and she quickly averted her gaze.

She saw a bowl of salt already at her table, and she once more felt at peace. She knew Claude had put it there.

“To our new queen!” a voice rang through the room. It was from Madame Annette. She was standing in the aisle, not seated at a table.

“We are grateful for the union between Ilusauri and Azurem, and we are glad to have another guardian on the throne to protect us.” Her voice was sweet but filled with contempt. “We would love nothing more than to see your power in action.”

Ice coursed through Dagmara’s veins. Two guards brought out a large bowl of water and set it down at her table. They bowed before walking away.

“What is this?” Dagmara asked, shooting a glance at Annette. She tried to keep her voice even, but was keenly aware that everyone’s eyes were on her.

“If you truly are the Princess of Azurem, you wouldn’t mind showing us a bit of your magic? Like you did at your coronation, right?” Annette’s eyebrows were raised on her forehead. It was evident she no longer believed that Dagmara was the true princess, if she ever had believed it. “Wouldn’t we all like to see?” She addressed the crowd.

A thunderous round of applause echoed through the room.

Everyone applauded except Queen Bernadette, who inched forward in her chair, prepared to intervene.

But Dagmara could do this. She remembered the way the magic had coursed through her body when she healed Claude in Sailonne.

“Alright,” Dagmara announced, standing from her chair. She refocused her attention on the bowl of water as the room fell completely silent. She tried to draw from within, her gaze set on the water. Something was different about her. She had felt it in Sailonne. She had healed Claude.

She had magic.

Time seemed to lengthen as she waited to feel something. She waited for the magic to tingle at her fingertips as it had before, but nothing came. A dead space seemed to fill through the room as the time dragged on, everyone waiting.

Maybe she had no magic at all.

Then the water stirred. Her body went numb.

She watched as the water levitated before swirling in the air. The room let out a collective gasp, covering the sound of Dagmara’s own gasp. The liquid molded into a wolf. The blue liquid rippled as the wolf figure let out a silent howl.

Applause rang through the room at the show.

Dagmara couldn’t move. Her eyes were transfixed by the magic before her. This wasn’t her own doing. She felt no magic coursing through her like she had when Claude was healed. But then, how was this possible?

There was only one answer. This wasn’t her. She remembered how Aleksy had tricked everyone at the coronation, making everyone think Magda had Life magic. Now, someone was doing the same thing, but this time, they were saving Dagmara.

She shut her eyes quickly, hoping no one could see that they had not transformed into the icy-blue color. She waited, feeling a mist from the water before her, until she knew the display was over.

The thunderous applause rang through the room.

“How dare you!” The booming voice echoed through the dining hall and caused Dagmara to jump in her shoes.

The applause stopped.

Dagmara whirled around, her body alight with fear. Her eyes widened at the sight of Claude, storming down the staircase. His white cape fluttered behind him, and his brow was furrowed. But he wasn’t looking at Dagmara. His gaze was set on Annette.

The room was utterly silent as the king reached the bottom of the stairs. He pointed his finger at Annette. “Magdalena doesn’t have to put on a show for you. If you ever question her integrity again there will be consequences.”

“My King, the Princess—”

“She is your queen.” Claude cut her off, his voice so threatening it sent a chill down Dagmara’s spine.

“My apologies,” Annette stammered. She curtsied low to the ground, dipping her head to the king. “It will not happen again.”

“Do not bow to me,” Claude scolded. “Bow to your queen.”

Dagmara’s breath hitched. Although he wasn’t looking at her, Dagmara searched Claude’s expression. His eyes were still dark without a hint of silver. He wasn’t compelling Annette. He was ordering her. It was almost worse that he was forcing her to bow out of her own will.

A tense silence filled the room. It felt like an eternity before Annette met Dagmara’s gaze. Her eyes were wide with fear. Any distrust or condescension in her expression had been wiped clean.

“My Queen,” Annette said before dropping into a bow.

Then Claude stepped onto the platform beside Dagmara. As he approached her, she forgot how to breathe. When he took her hand, her blood turned to ice. He pressed a kiss on the back of her palm, his lips soft and gentle against her skin.

“I am a man of my word, and today I made a vow.” His whisper was barely audible, meant for only her to hear. “I will always put you first and keep you safe.” His tone was sincere. Then he looked at her, his eyes glistening.

Dagmara was too stunned to think about the expression on her own face.

Claude’s regal tone resurfaced as he stated, “You are now Queen of Ilusauri. Serve our people, and I, in return, will serve you.”

He lowered himself to his knee in front of her, still holding her hand, and dipped his head.

Realization dawned on Dagmara like a dagger. He was bowing.

The Guardian of the Mind was bowing to her.

In unison, the entire room rose from their chairs and dropped to a bow, following their king.

The world began spinning around Dagmara. She wrenched her gaze away from Claude and looked out to the guests.

Emotions flooded her body. They shouldn’t be bowing. She wasn’t Princess Magdalena. She wasn’t Queen Magdalena. She was a false queen. A fraud.

Every guest in attendance was bowing to her. Even the soldiers lining the room followed their king. Even Queen Bernadette inclined her head. Everyone except—

Dagmara’s heart stopped. One person remained standing at the back of the room, barely visible in the shadows. His hands were poised behind his back as he stared at Dagmara with a smirk plastered to his face and ice-blue magic shimmering in his eyes.

Sabien Renaud.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, and the water in the bowl rippled.

Thoughts rushed through Dagmara’s mind like a tidal wave as everything made sense. Sabien was the one who healed Claude in Sailonne, not Dagmara. His hand was over hers the entire time. She was never the one with magic. She was horribly ordinary and Sabien was…he was…

A Guardian of Life.