Azrya's youngest sister, Iris, only eight years old, shot her a bright and beaming smile, waving eagerly, unaware of the true nature of the day. Forcing herself, Azrya weakly smiled back at her sister and continued down the aisle.
The only attendees from Akio's side were a small group of his knights. The rest of the people present were the servants and the priest.
As she reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony, but Azrya didn't hear a word. Her mind was too full of dread. She quickly glanced at the door, wondering if she could bolt and escape, but the thought vanished as her sister's sweet face appeared in her mind. Azrya accepted her fate. It was too late for her now. Within minutes, she would be married to the man in front of her, who towered over everyone and could strike fear with a single glance.
Azrya's eyes watered as the priest neared the final vow, turning to Akio.
"Do you take the Lady Azryana of the kingdom of Toria as your lawfully wedded wife, in the eyes of God and the realm?"
"I do," Akio replied gruffly.
He looked no more pleased than she did. His face remained the same unreadable mask he always wore. Yet, he had formally requested her hand in marriage from the king, so Azrya couldn't understand why he appeared so grim. Out of the two of them, he was the only one who had gotten what he wanted.
Then it was her turn.
Azrya paused, her voice trembling.
"I do," she whispered, barely audible.
"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest concluded.
Beneath her veil, a single tear slipped down her cheek as the room erupted into celebration. A feast would be held in their honour. And later that night, they would consummate their marriage. Azrya shivered at the thought.
The feast lasted hours before Azrya was finally escorted by her ladies-in-waiting to a specially prepared chamber. It was there, in that room, that everything would change. The maids bathed her, dressed her in a sheer white slip-on, and left her alone.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Azrya's nerves tightened. She reached for the wine jug left by the servants, ignoring the cup and chugging down the alcohol straight from the jug.
Her nerves were all over the place.
The door suddenly swung open, startling her as she jumped up. Akio stood in the doorway in a white tunic and black trousers, his eyes locked onto her, saying nothing. This time, there was an expression on his face she hadn't seen before.
Akio's gaze roamed her body, devouring her with his eyes. Through the translucent fabric, he could see her curves, her perky breasts, everything.
Azrya instinctively covered her chest with her arms.
Akio approached slowly and gently moved her arms down, locking eyes with her.
"You look beautiful. Don't hide yourself," he whispered, cupping her cheek.
She looked away, but he tilted her chin up, drawing her eyes to his—a deep, dark gaze that pulled her in.
Then he kissed her, hungrily, passionately. Azrya gasped. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, his tongue pushing deeper into her mouth, claiming her.
She didn't know how to react, overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy. But she let him hold her, her arms around his neck, as strange sensations stirred within her.
Akio carried her to the bed, laying her down as his lips never left hers. In one swift motion, he tore her delicate dress away, leaving her bare. The cold air hit her skin, drawing a gasp from her lips. His kisses trailed down her body—neck, collarbone, breasts.
Azrya's soft moans escaped despite her attempts to remain quiet. She was shocked by her own lewdness, by the pleasure surging through her.
Akio's mouth found her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples. She gasped again, grabbing his hair, every nerve alight with sensation. She wanted to hate it, to hate him—but her body betrayed her.
He moved lower, kissing her stomach, then spreading her legs. Alarmed, Azrya tried to scramble up, but he was already between her thighs, his mouth on her most sensitive place.
Azrya cried out, throwing her head back, as he licked and sucked her womanhood. She grabbed his hair tighter, gasping when he slipped a finger inside her, coaxing a climax she couldn't stop.
Her body trembled violently as her pleasure peaked, waves crashing over her until she lay limp, dazed, and breathless.
Akio returned to her lips, kissing her again. She tasted herself on his tongue.
He removed his shirt, revealing a muscular, scarred body that mesmerized her. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a body honed by war. She stared, longer than she meant to.
Akio slid off his trousers and she felt something hard and thick press against her. Panic crept in.
Sensing her fear, he kissed her more gently, massaging her breasts, trying to ease her tension.
But when he positioned himself at her entrance and looked into her eyes, fear overtook her again.
Azrya whimpered, closing her eyes as he began to push in.
Then he stopped.
She opened her eyes, confused.
"Do you want this?" he asked softly. "If you want me to stop, say the word and I will."
Azrya was stunned. He wanted her consent. That made no sense—wasn't it her duty as his wife?
She thought of her sister, of the threat looming over her family if she failed.
"No, it's okay," she whispered. "You can continue."
But Akio didn't move. He studied her face, then pulled away.
He got off the bed and began dressing.
Azrya blinked in disbelief.
"What's wrong? I said it was okay. Why did you stop?"
He didn't answer. Shirt half on, he poured himself a cup of wine, downing it in one gulp.
"We need to consummate our marriage for it to be official," she pressed.
Akio scratched his head. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
He poured another cup.
"You might want to cover up before you catch a cold," he said, glancing at her breasts.
Only then did Azrya realize she was still completely naked. She dove under the covers, blushing.
"I don't know why you're hiding like I haven't seen and tasted everything already," Akio teased, smirking.
Azrya scowled.
He picked up the wine jug and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To clear my head. Get some sleep—we leave the castle early tomorrow," he replied, then closed the door behind him.
Azrya tossed and turned that night, questions racing in her mind.
Was he not attracted to her? Did she do something wrong?
Clearly not. His desire had been evident. So why did he stop?
She could only hope he truly wouldn't tell anyone. If her father found out the marriage hadn't been consummated, her sister would be the one to suffer.
Still, something about Akio made her think he wouldn't betray her.
With that fragile hope, she finally drifted into sleep.