Chapter 191

Caleb goes through the motions of the ceremony. There’s a lot of talking. The chaplain does a lot of talking, and then members of the court get to all say their peace.

Caleb blocks most of it out, focusing instead on this unfamiliar, unsettled feeling inside of him. Yes, he wants Harper to be here instead, but he’s always wanted that, even if he didn’t fully know or understand that notion.

So why does everything feel so different now? More dire. More urgent.

He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down over the side. The wind is in his hair. Someone stands behind his back, shoving him forward.

She should be strong enough to fight anything or anyone. He’s the strongest Alpha the pack has maybe ever had. Yet, against this growing pressure, this growing dread, he feels entirely useless.

His only friend Tristan, the one he could confide in, gone.

Harper, the object of his affections, is hurt by even the sight of Caleb.

His advisors and his own mother want him to marry Annabelle. They would dismiss his concerns if he tries to raise them.

A king should not be selfish, they would say. That’s the very same mantra he’s told himself to lead him to this moment. Saying those words is how he was able to come to stand here at all.

Marrying Annabelle is his duty as king, and as leader of a fragile nation on the brink of civil war. Alliances need to be made, borders secured. The rebellion needs to be brought in line, and Annabelle’s pack is the best to help Caleb to do that.

At least, that’s what he’s been told.

Is it the truth?

Isn’t he also making efforts to push for peace without the need of this alliance? His advisors are already making steps to ensure commoners are allowed as members of his court.

Though Annabelle’s presence would likely help ease any ruffled feathers the nobility would have over this action. The nobles seem fond of her and her demure nature, even if she’s already revealed herself to be spoiled underneath. Perhaps the nobility relate to that too.

But what of Caleb himself? His mate sickness will only get worse over time. Someday, he might even be so lost that he will no longer be fit to rule. Who will stand by him then? Certainly not Annabelle.

Caleb blinks and realizes that the entirety of the room is looking at him – all except Annabelle who still seems disgusted by his presence.

Confused, he looks at the chaplain for explanation.

The chaplain clears his throat. “My King, it is time for the vows.”

Oh. This is the point of no return. Once my vows are given to Annabelle, they cannot be unbroken. She would still need my mating bite, but otherwise, we would be for all intents and purposes, mates.

“If you would face each other,” the chaplain prompts, looking nervously between Annabelle and Caleb.

Caleb, clearing his throat, turns toward Annabelle first. She turns as well, toward Caleb, but does so much slower.

“My King,” the chaplain says. “It is your right to go first…”

“Very well,” Caleb says.

Annabelle still refuses to look at him, her gaze shifting from off to the side to down to the floor. She seems utterly miserable by the whole state of affairs – all because Caleb isn’t dressed to her liking.

Harper would want to marry him so much she wouldn’t care what he wore. But, with his affections for Harper, he never would have attended the wedding covered in blood.

He’s only here like this now because he cares so little for Annabelle and this wedding.

“My King?” the chaplain says again, a hint of a question in his voice this time. “Perhaps you would like to repeat after me?”

“Very well,” Caleb replies.

“Please, repeat after me. I take you, Annabelle…”

Caleb opens his mouth, but the words do not come.

Whispers begin in the gathered crowd.

Caleb wishes he could bring himself to care. About them. About Annabelle. About any of this.

The chaplain clears his throat. “I take you, Annabelle…”

Annabelle finally looks at Caleb, the disgust that had covered her face now clear in her eyes as well.

Harper would never look at him like that.

She would love him, and he…

“King Caleb?” Annabelle says.

One word forms on Caleb’s lips. It carries the weight of the world, yet when it’s finally spoken, Caleb feels nothing but relief.

“No.”

Bethany does her best to try to cheer me up, but there’s nothing she can do to lift my miserable spirits. Eventually, I ask her, “Please, Bethany. I appreciate you, but I want to be alone for a while, okay?”

Maybe it’s selfish to want to wallow in my misery for a while, but the only way I can see to survive this heartbreak is to plow straight through it.

Distraction isn’t going to work. Meaningless platitudes aren’t going to work either.

Bethany looks at me sadly, but eventually she nods with understanding. “When you need me again, ask and I will be here.”

Unable to trust my voice anymore, as I am using most of my effort to hold back my sobs, I nod instead.

She nods too, then turns and leaves, closing the door softly behind her.

The moment the door closes, I let the tears fall.

I hate how weak this heartbreak has made me feel. I am a strong woman. I have faced many hardships and survived them all. I know I will survive this too. But everything feels so heavy. The weight of my own bones seems to hold me down.

Thinking back, I try to hold on to the encouragement the Pitmaster gave me, speaking of life after the harem. I could be like her, finding a true calling once my time here is done. Caleb has enough affection for me, I think, that he might let me study or when the rebellion has calmed, perhaps he’d even let me leave the capital altogether.

Yet, these things all feel so very far away in this moment. To achieve them, I still have to suffer through this mounting heartache.

To survive this, I need to cry.

So, even as strong as I know myself to be, I allow myself a few moments, in the quiet loneliness of my room, to fall apart and wallow in my pain. I let it wash over me, allowing the hurt to fester out from my heart and into every part of me, until even my fingertips hurt.

It’s almost too much, but I know I can endure it. I’ve endured much worse than heartbreak.

So, so much worse.

Yet why does this still feel like my heart is dying?

Someone rattles the door handle and it opens. Did Bethany forget something?

I wipe away my tears with my wrist. Sniffling fiercely, I tell her, “Get what you need and please leave, Bethany. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

The person comes in and closes the door behind them. For a moment, they stand just inside the door. But then, they take three confident strides toward me.

The footfalls are different than Bethany’s, without the clink of a heel.

I turn to look, and it’s Caleb.

He stops when I look at him, as if my gaze has frozen him solid.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, sniffing. Am I hallucinating? “How can you be here?”

I can’t read his expression through my tears, but in his voice, I hear something I never quite expected.

Relief.

And affection.

“I called off the wedding.”