Could it be that her hatred for her daughter led her to skip her own daughter’s wedding? But Dietrian quickly dismissed this assumption.
‘That can’t be right.’
For the past twenty years, Josephina had meticulously managed the public image of herself and Leticia.
As a mother who dearly loves her mentally unwell daughter.
It seemed unlikely that Josephina would miss an opportunity like today’s ceremony, which could further solidify her image.
With so many eyes watching, it would be more characteristic of her to cling to Leticia throughout the wedding, almost as if showing off.
‘Just like during the previous tea party.’
The fact that Josephina was absent from the ceremony hall suggested something else.
‘It means she is unable to attend due to some circumstances.’
As if to support his guess, an annoyed voice was heard not far away.
“The Saintess is not attending the wedding? How is that possible?”
The speaker was a young man with grey eyes, dressed in elaborate clothing. A woman by his side quickly tried to hush him.
“It can’t be helped. She fell ill while interpreting an oracle.”
“Ha! To have the royal family come all this way and then use that as an excuse.”
“Cal, lower your voice, this is not the royal palace, but the Saintess’s land.”
Despite the woman’s attempts to calm him, the man continued to complain. He appeared to be a royal, part of the congratulatory delegation. Whether he was a direct descendant or from a collateral line was unclear from his appearance alone.
Dietrian briefly memorized the faces of the two before turning away.
The oracle, and the news of the Saintess falling ill.
He was about to ponder the implications of these events on the national marriage, the future of the Principality, and Leticia when…
Across the hallway, the hem of a wedding dress came into view.
Dietrian’s mind went blank.
* * *
Before the wedding, Dietrian had repeatedly resolved to himself not to reveal his feelings for Leticia in the ceremony hall.
This was due to Josephina’s actions during the tea party. Leticia bled simply from bidding him farewell.
Therefore, no matter how much his heart overflowed with feelings for her, he resolved not to show any sign of it until they were alone. But as he watched the hem of her wedding dress slowly enter the room, his heart felt like it was about to burst.
Everything else faded from his mind – Josephina, the second oracle, the royals, and the scornful gazes of everyone present.
All disappeared. There was only her.
As he slowly lifted his gaze following the line of the dress, he saw the round hydrangea bouquet. He took in her radiant skin, the sparkling necklace, and clenched his fist tightly.
He forced himself to look away.
If he saw her face, he felt he might not be able to restrain himself any longer.
His expression hardened as he stared intently at the statue of the goddess in front of him, but his mind was still filled with the image of Leticia in her wedding dress.
The dress seemed to capture all the light in the world, shimmering as if dusted with jewels. But seeing her skin also glowing, he realized it wasn’t just the dress.
‘She’s just breathtakingly beautiful.’
As these thoughts occupied him, the rustling sound of her dress drawing closer filled his ears.
His tension peaked. His throat moved visibly, and his head felt dizzy with the rapid beating of his heart.
He desperately wanted to pull her into his embrace right then and there. He turned his head away as if to deliberately ignore her, resisting the urge to reach out his hand.
‘Josephina might be watching from somewhere.’
Although it was said she couldn’t attend the wedding due to the oracle, he couldn’t fully trust that statement.
Perhaps, she was using the oracle as an excuse to not attend, just to test his true feelings.
While it seemed far-fetched, he couldn’t be too careful when it involved Leticia.
The murmuring of the crowd quieted, and the priest officiating the ceremony stepped up to the dais. The sight eased his almost unbearable tension, if only slightly.
At the announcement of the ceremony’s start, Dietrian and Leticia were to hold hands and walk together.
Preparing to escort her, Dietrian hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to remove his gloves. He quickly decided and swiftly took off his white gloves, stuffing them into his pocket. The bulging pocket looked unsightly, but now was not the time to worry about such things.
“Let us begin the ceremony now,” announced the officiant.
As the music played, Dietrian glanced at Leticia. Her face was veiled, but he could faintly see the delicate contours of her face. He felt both grateful and regretful for the veil – grateful because it helped him maintain his composure, but regretful because he couldn’t see her face fully.
Amidst these conflicting emotions, he finally caught the tips of her fingers.
He barely restrained a sigh.
The warmth of her hand on his bare skin was electrifyingly pleasant.
With great effort, he focused his mind and walked beside her, wishing the aisle would stretch to the end of the world.
When they reached the front of the altar, he reluctantly let go of her hand, feeling a sense of loss as if a child had his candy taken away.
His thoughts had already drifted to their wedding night.
The officiant began the ceremony.
“The only daughter of the great Saintess Josephina of the Holy Empire, Leticia, is to be married to the Prince Dietrian, a moment of immense honor for the Principality.”
The officiant’s voice was pompous.
“The Prince must always be thankful to the Goddess and not forget his loyalty to the Empire.”
The speech was filled with praise for the Empire and disregard for the Principality, just as he had expected.
Dietrian was distracted by Leticia’s presence and hardly listened, but a few words resonated with him.
Be thankful to the Goddess for the honor of taking Leticia as his wife.
‘Of course, I will.’
Though Dietrian had lived a life devoid of religious devotion, on this day, he felt an urge akin to conversion. Sigmund would have been irked by such a notion, but Dietrian, unaware that the founder of his nation was nearby, was simply grateful to the Goddess.
Amid the ongoing ceremony, Dietrian found himself pondering over another concern.
‘Can we kiss after exchanging rings?’
Principality weddings tend to be much more liberal compared to those in the Empire.
The groom might carry or even lift the bride as they enter, to the enthusiastic cheers and applause of the guests. The same liberty applies to the ring exchange.
It’s customary for the groom to kiss the bride deeply after slipping the ring on her finger. Some grooms even go as far as kissing the bride’s palm, wrist, or collarbone, eliciting playful jeers from the audience.
Instead of being shy, the brides often reciprocate with a kiss.
‘How far is permissible in an imperial ceremony?’
Dietrian was confused. He knew almost nothing about imperial wedding customs. He had never imagined he would engage in such intimacy with the daughter of the Saintess.
‘Is kissing allowed? Or is it not? Not even a peck?’
He regretted not researching this beforehand.
He was desperate for contact, yet at a loss on how to proceed during this formal opportunity. While he wrestled with his regrets, the officiant spoke.
“Now, as a sacred symbol of your marital vows, please exchange rings.”
Thankfully, he had another chance to touch her hand.
Dietrian quickly took the black box offered by Enoch, who was dressed in traditional Principality attire as his best man. Enoch seemed half-distracted, looking at Leticia, but Dietrian, equally out of sorts, paid no mind.
Opening the box, he found a pair of rings, each embedded with a jewel, shining brilliantly. They were heirlooms passed down through generations of the Principality royalty.
The rings were once worn by Sigmund, the founder of the Principality, and his wife, made long ago but still sparkling like new, thanks to the dragon’s blessing.
Leticia gently extended her hand.
Seeing her slender fingers, Dietrian swallowed hard and took her hand.
Finally, they touched again.
He was ecstatic.
He congratulated himself at least five times for removing his gloves as he slowly slid the ring onto her fourth finger.
Then it was her turn.
Leticia’s fingertips trembled slightly as she placed the ring on him. It naturally reminded him of how she trembled in his arms two nights ago.
He longed to embrace her waist and kiss her like that moment.
The urge was so strong that if he relaxed even a little, he felt he might forget all the watching eyes and act impulsively.
‘I can’t do that.’
Dietrian quickly withdrew his hand from hers.
He decided not to hold hands or kiss after exchanging rings, as they would in a Principality wedding.
It wasn’t the concern of others’ gazes but his own control that worried him. He wasn’t sure he could stop himself.
His face grew even more rigid with tension.
And watching his expression from behind her veil, Leticia bit her lip.
Her heart ached.
‘He must really dislike me.’
From the moment she entered the ceremony hall, his expression had been as cold as a winter storm. His apparent discomfort at her touch, withdrawing quickly after placing the ring, had hurt her deeply.
Even though she had expected it, it was still heartbreaking.
She had harbored a little hope.
After all, he had been so kind that night.
She thought perhaps he didn’t despise her as much as before, that it might be more bearable. But it seemed that was just wishful thinking.
Leticia’s eyebrows drooped sadly. And so, their misunderstanding deepened.
Enoch gazed at Leticia’s profile, unable to believe his eyes. He blinked repeatedly and rubbed his eyes, but the scene before him remained unchanged.
‘Am I dreaming right now?’
But it was too vivid to be a dream.
‘Why is my benefactor here?’
The person who had saved him had appeared as Dietrian’s bride. He checked multiple times, thinking he might be mistaken, but it was clear he wasn’t.
Her neatly pinned-up golden hair, petite stature, the bracelet on her wrist, and decisively, her voice when responding to the officiant.
[It will all be well from now on. I will protect everyone.]
It was the same gentle voice that had reassured him when he was in pain.
‘Why is my benefactor marrying His Highness? Where is the Saintess’s daughter?’
Enoch was utterly confused.
‘Did the Saintess’s daughter refuse to marry? Did my benefactor step in to take her place?’
As everyone standing before the altar grappled with their own turmoil, the wedding ceremony came to an end.
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