The Wedding Day

The morning dawned not with the jubilant peal of bells, but with a tense stillness that clung to the air like a shroud. Today was the day of the royal wedding, a day meant to be etched in the kingdom’s history with joy and celebration, yet it felt as though the very heavens held their breath, waiting. Sunlight, usually a cheerful herald, filtered through the thick tapestries of Prince Salem’s chambers, casting long, wavering shadows that seemed to writhe with unspoken anxieties. He stood before a cheval mirror, his reflection a stranger. The crimson and gold regalia felt heavy, a costume for a role he was increasingly uncertain he could play.

Beside him, Lord Valerius offered a practiced smile. “A magnificent day, Your Highness. The kingdom rejoices. And soon, the union will solidify our peace.” His voice was smooth as polished obsidian, each word a carefully placed stone in a path that led, Salem suspected, somewhere far from peace.

Salem turned, his gaze sharp. “And you are certain, Lord Valerius, that this peace is truly secure?”