"Where is she?" King Fabio asked, clenching his fists in thinly veiled rage.
The woman in front of him met his eyes, lips trembling, and he knew in an instant something was wrong with her scent.
The Priest was declaring them bound by fate and law but it felt like Fabio was underwater, he couldn't hear a word over the sound of his own blood roaring with rage.
The celebration was a blur after that. An endless mirage of laughter, wine, forced toasts and hollow congratulations. He smiled when expected, danced when obligated, and pretended not to see the stranger sitting on the throne beside his.
Fabio's true bride grew up together with him, planning the future they would have someday. His true bride had the laughter of a thousand wind chimes and fire in her gaze. The woman veiled and draped in jewels beside him had a different heartbeat, a different aura entirely. He'd felt it the second their lips met. The accursed bond that now tethered him to her confirmed it.
Soulmate.
But not her.
Not his Genevieve.
Fabio watched as she socialized with guests, a smile curled upon her red lips. How could this happen? How could he have been sorely tricked by his own inlaws? Leaving the reception, he paced the throne room, his anger growing by the second. The Wolf King sat on his throne, barely waiting for the last guest to disappear before he stood, fury tightening his jaw.
"Summon the Duke and Duchess of Vonteguarde," he barked to my steward. "Bring her, too."
The steward blinked, seemingly startled by the venom in his voice.
"Her, sir?"
"My wife." Fabio spat, utterly despising that word on his tongue.
The poor man scrambled out of the room.
Within minutes, the three traitors stood before him in the private room, heavy doors closed, stone walls echoing the silence. The woman, Giselle, stood between her parents, fingers trembling against her white dress, veil still attached but blown back, eyes wide with something like guilt… or shame. It didn't matter to Fabio. What mattered was that a stranger wearing the skin of his beloved Genevieve had managed to sneak her way to the throne deceptively.
"So, Sir Gilbert, you dare trick the King of Montegnera?" the King growled, rising from his throne.
"Your Majesty I—" her father, the Duke began to say.
"Spare me," he snapped, stepping down, now face to face with the traitors, "Do not insult what remains of my patience. I know who she is. She is not Genevieve. Where is my true queen?"
Silence. Giselle flinched, eyes fixed on the throne. A throne Fabio had already vowed to never let her claim a right to.
"She…eloped with her lover, my King."
He sucked in a harsh breath, his heart suddenly sinking.
"W-what?" Impossible. "You're lying to me." Genevieve could never do that to me, no, he thought, could she?
The Duke stepped forward, a thin paper in his hand, "She left only this, your Majesty."
King Fabio snatched the letter, skimming through it. Barking an incredulous laugh, he sneered at them,"Do you really expect me to believe your firstborn daughter, the daughter of a wealthy Duke, betrothed to a King, promised every treasure and riches imaginable, eloped overnight with a…stableboy?!"
"Y-yes, your Majesty."
The King bit his inner cheek in a bid to control himself, to stop himself from smiting these audacious traitors where they stood. It was clear to him that these people took him for a joke. How was this possible? His mind was in shambles although he seemed composed, trying to make sense of the situation. Did Genevieve really abandon him? She did seem a bit distant for sometime but nothing too serious that worried him. Fabio paced away, flinging the accursed letter and raking both hands through his now loose hair.
"Then why didn't you tell me? Why did you force your second daughter upon me?"
The Duke had the grace to look ashamed, "We felt it would be a great insult to your name, my King."
Her mother chimed, "We had no choice."
"There is always a choice!" The King roared. "And you chose deception! You married me to a…a stranger in front of the Goddess and all the Court!"
"She's your soulmate, my King," the Duke said carefully. Fabio pinned him a glare, for the first time hearing the truth he hoped to be false, "Yes, she told us what happened at the altar. You know that a bond like that cannot be forged."
He stilled.
That truth settled in his bones like ice water.
Fabio may be young for a ruler at the age of 25 but he wasn't some inexperienced pup, of course he knew it was real. He'd felt it ignite like wildfire in his veins. The cruel irony of it all hit him, that he had waited my whole life to feel the tether of a soul meant for him, hopefully the love of his life Genevieve, and the Gods gave it to the wrong sister.
"She's a placeholder," he spat, turning to Giselle. "That's all you are. A stand-in for the Queen I should have had."
Her lip quivered, but she didn't speak.
"I reject the bond," Fabio snarled. Someone gasped; the Duchess? The girl? He didn't know and he certainly didn't care. "Do you hear me? It means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me."
The Duke stepped forward, voice firm, "You know as well as I do, your Majesty, you can't just reject a soulmate. Wolf law is binding. Besides, mate-ship is created by the Goddess so the bond will grow whether you want it or not."
The King sneered at him, teeth clenched, "Then I'll break it another way."
"Genevieve ran away of her own accord, we had nothing to do with it-"
"Then why did you lie?! Why didn't you say something, you just went ahead and…" he sighed, already exhausted, pacing the velvet red carpet beneath him, "Look I've known Genevieve since we were pups and I love her with all my heart and if she doesn't want me, she can say that to my face."
Giselle, quiet all this while with a thoughtful glint in her eyes, finally spoke. "Your Majesty, if I may—"
"No you may not! You think I'll let your family keep their titles after this betrayal?" Fabio hissed, even the sound of her voice was repulsive to him, "You've made fools of the royal line."
"No!" the Duchess cried. "We meant no harm, we just didn't know how to tell you-"
"From this moment forward," the King declared coldly, not allowing her to finish, "the titles of Duke and Duchess of Vonteguarde are revoked. Your lands will be absorbed by the crown. Your name will be stricken from noble records. You are nothing. Be grateful that I did not order your execution for this grand deception."
The Duke went on his knees as did his wife but Fabio felt nothing for the liars, turning on his heel to leave.
"No…wait, your Majesty, please!" Giselle shouted, rushing after the King as he stormed toward the door.
Her voice cracked, quivered, "Don't punish them for my sister's mistake, please, just listen, I'll do anything—" she begged on her knees.
King Fabio opened the door and paused, looking back at the woman whom the universe deemed it fit to bestow on him. Her fiery hair cascaded like fire from her scalp, partly pinned back by the veil, and wide green eyes, the most expressive he'd ever seen. There was no denying it; she was beautiful, alluring even. But she was no Genevieve. Even now he could make out little differences that at first glance, one may not be able to tell. Genevieve had golden hair like cascading wheat flax and hazel eyes, nothing like the shade of green that started back at him. Genevieve's skin was pale, almost like porcelain and Fabio had often held his hand on top of hers to admire her glassy complexion. Giselle's, on the other hand, was like honey, tan and sun-kissed. Even their personalities differed—where Genevieve was proud, sometimes even spoiled, Giselle seemed humble, reserved.
This was no Queen, Fabio couldn't help but think, to me she seems no different than a lowly peasant.
"Anything, you said?" he retorted, a rush of glee at the sight of her begging.
"Yes, please…just spare my parents…"
"Fine. We are well and truly married are we not?" She nodded in affirmation but he could read her confusion, "Then you and your parents have gotten what you wished for—access to Montegnera's throne. It is unfortunate, however, you will never be crowned Queen consort, you will never be my mate and lastly, you will never have any rights granted to you as my wife. So enjoy your stay at the palace, Lady Giselle Vanderbilt of Vonteguarde, everything is yours by title alone and you don't get to even breathe without my approval." he spat, venom in his gaze.
With that final verdict, the King turned and left her there on the bare floor, still kneeling in her wedding dress.
The bond pulsed between them once again; hot, painful, unwanted.