Chapter 6

"You're looking rather wan, Shirayuki. Don't puke on my dress; the horrid thing was ridiculously expensive to make, apparently."

Shirayuki paused in the middle of lodging the final comb into Kihal's hair and looked into the mirror of the armoire. She was quite pale, wasn't she? Maybe even a bit green. She swallowed the lump of nervous bile in her throat and ignored the wave of nausea caused by the action. "Can you blame me?"

Kihal rolled her eyes. "Oh, come now. It's not like you're going to declare yourself to him in the middle of the ballroom."

"I might as well be," she murmured back.

Kihal turned around on the bench with a petulant huff that belied her future status. "Obi and I worked very hard on this plan. All you need to do is be your beautiful self, play your part, and everything will be fine."

"My beautiful self," she echoed, staring wryly down at her dress, the very same one she had worn to Lord Eisetsu's party all those years ago. While perfectly adequate for the coming event, the gown would pale in comparison to the lavish creations that would adorn most of the ladies there, many of whom would likely be extra trussed up in order to catch the eye of the unmarried king. She would be a veritable hen in a room full of peacocks flapping their feathers for the ultimate matrimonial prize.

"Oh, for god's sake. I can practically see the cogs turning in your head." Kihal stood in a shimmering wave of gold and white silk, placing her hands on Shirayuki's shoulders. "Besides the fact that you're stunning without any of these fripperies, it shouldn't matter how you look. It's you he wants. The others can preen all they want in front him, but I can guarantee he'll only have eyes for you, so much so that I'm a little concerned Zen will notice." She plopped back onto the bench with a sigh. "I tried bringing up the matter with him, by the way."

"Oh," Shirayuki breathed, her stomach tying into knots. Kihal had more than a right to bring up the topic, she was going to marry the man, after all. But, Shirayuki was not sure how far Zen had come in getting over his past relationship. He'd been so busy with his duties and paying call to Kihal, that Shirayuki hadn't spoken to him much since arriving back from Yuri Island. He was still one of her most precious friends, and she was sad to cause him any pain. Izana potentially returning her affections had been so off the radar, that Shirayuki hadn't worried about the potential awkwardness of such a situation. Now, things were different, and she had no idea how well Zen might react to a potential romance.

"I didn't outright say anything," Kihal said quickly, no doubt seeing the horror blooming on Shirayuki's face. "I only intimated that His Majesty seemed fond of you."

"And what did he say?"

Kihal made a slight wince. "Well…he vehemently denied the possibility. Though, I think his insistence on the matter was more for himself than me."

"I'm so sorry."

She raised an eyebrow. "For what? I knew going into this that he likely still had feelings for you. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything."

"Kihal…"

"What? I'm not. I barely know him. It's true he is handsome and kind and," she looked down at her lap with a pensive expression, "while I do hope there will be love down the road, I understand he needs time."

"I still feel horrible." Shirayuki had been feeling guilty the moment she had broken things off. It had been the right thing to do, but the hurt inflicted on Zen had nearly torn her apart.

"We're all adults here. You can't spend your like tiptoeing around his feelings. He's a big boy." Kihal waved a dismissive hand. "Enough about my marriage woes, we need to focus on tonight." She shot Shirayuki a mischievous smile. "I know you're not happy with your gown, so I've come up with a solution."

A knock sounded on the door, and Shirayuki tilted her head. "What did you do?"

"Think of it like a thank you gift for all of your support these past three weeks. Now…" she stood and gestured to the bench as a servant walked in, a bundle of shimmering blue draped over her arm. Kihal picked up a brush with a sly grin. "It's your turn to get ready."

If one more young lady fluttered her eyelashes at him, Izana was going to kill someone. Probably Haruka.

"One would think this was a pageant to select your bride rather than my betrothal ball," Zen said dryly over the rim of a champagne flute.

"They are wasting their time," he bit out before he could think better of it. He glanced at his brother to gauge any reaction.

To his immense relief, Zen's face was blank, save for a raised eyebrow. "Haruka doesn't seem to think so."

"Haruka is an idiot." The marquis had taken upon himself to intimate that Izana was seeking a bride in all of the formal invitations to the capital. Tonight was the first major event of Zen's' betrothal, and it seemed just about every lord in the realm had trussed up their daughters like prized animals at the fair in the hopes of catching his eye. He smiled tightly as another debutante sailed by in a flurry of garish skirts, obviously angling for an audience. The girl couldn't have been older than sixteen, and the observation made the champagne bubble back up his throat a little.

"So, which one have you chosen, then?" Zen gestured to the assembled crowd. There must have been a thousand people milling about, a disconcerting percentage of the young, female variety. "You certainly have your pick."

"It will be made known in due time." If he managed to get his proposal out within the next century, that was. He'd been advised by Mitsuhide to give Shirayuki some space, both to allow her time to settle and to not rouse the suspicions of Zen.

"I don't like lying to him," the knight had said as they exited the greenhouse together, "but I think it would be too much excitement to handle at the moment. He's quite nervous about the betrothal, you know."

Mitsuhide had confided that Zen's feelings were still a bit raw from Shirayuki's rejection, but that he was putting his best foot forward in making the union with Kihal work. Izana was loathe to cause his brother any further distress, especially considering the grand effort he was apparently putting forth. That did not mean, however, that Izana would hold off on his proposal, even if he would wait to make a public announcement. It would be better for Zen to be told in private, after the chaos of the wedding was finished.

This did, of course, all depend on Shirayuki's acceptance.

He took a nervous swallow from his flute as Zen narrowed his eyes. "Is she someone I know?"

"Where is your bride, Zen? The dancing is about to start."

"Brother—"

"Lady Kihal Toghrul of Yuri Island and Miss Shirayuki of Tanbarun!" The boom of the herald's voice proved a welcome interruption. All eyes were riveted on Lady Kihal as she strode through the doors, but Izana could do nothing but stare at the utter vision walking beside her. Layers of shimmering, blue silk flared from Shirayuki's waist, complimented by a tight fitting bodice with puffed sleeves, leaving an expanse of chest and creamy shoulders that he longed to drape with sapphires. Silver rose embroidery decorated the length of the gown, seeming to sway in an invisible breeze as she moved. Her glorious red hair sat in a messy, elegant arrangement decorated with fresh white roses.

She looked positively regal, and his throat grew tight at the thought of having her on his arm.

"Beautiful," Zen breathed beside him, and Izana could only hope the words were meant for his bride, who was quite lovely in her own right, wearing a shining confection of gold and white. The two women made a striking pair, and just about everyone in the room seemed to agree, if the hushed attention the ladies were receiving was any indication.

The girls weaved through the crowd and stopped before them. It took everything he had not to keep gaping at Shirayuki like a fool.

"Your Majesty. Prince Zen." Lady Kihal dipped into a low curtsey, Shirayuki following suit with a billow of shimmering fabric and looking everywhere but at him. Her silver gloved fingers trembled against her gown.

Gods he'd mucked things up.

"Good evening, ladies. How lovely you both look," Izana said, mustering the first genuine smile he'd made this evening. He subtly elbowed Zen, who left his dazed state with a cough.

"Yes," his brother said with a blush.

"What a lucky man my brother is, Lady Kihal," he said, volume rising as Zen's eyes strayed to Shirayuki.

"You are too kind, My King," she replied with a magnanimous smile, either not noticing her fiancée openly ogling her friend or pretending ignorance.

"And you, Shirayuki, put every young lady here to shame." He shot a playful wink to Lady Kihal. "Minus the bride, of course."

His future sister-in-law let out a melodic laugh. "Oh, do not spare my feelings. She outshines everyone present, as I am sure you well know."

"You flatter me too much," Shirayuki said with a soft glare in her friend's direction.

"I quite disagree," he replied softly. She finally looked at him, her eyes wide and a blush creeping across her cheeks. He could almost feel Zen's glare on his back. Izana wished he could smack him over the head for putting on such a blatant display. He had already spied more than a few guests sending glances their way and whispering amongst each other.

Shirayuki straightened, seeming to gather herself. "His Majesty is teasing, I am sure." Her mouth formed a thin line. "That's all he ever does with me, after all."

"You tell him, Shirayuki," Zen said with a chuckle, his shoulders relaxing. Izana breathed an inward sigh of relief that there was no further scene, even if the damage had already been done.

Lady Kihal, bless the girl, seemed to sense the perilous situation. She grasped Zen's elbow as the music began, the first waltz of the evening. "Are you going to ask me do dance or what?"

Zen tore his gaze from Shirayuki. "I… yes, of course, Kihal."

She all but dragged him away, Zen quickly looking over his shoulder a few times until the pair was out of sight. If he could, Izana would have run a hand over his face.

"Your Majesty." Shirayuki's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. She was looking down at the floor again, her blush deepening several shades. "W-what lovely music they are playing."

"Yes," he replied dumbly before registering her meaning. "That is," he supplied quickly, "Would you care to dance?"

"I would like that very much," she replied. His gaze was drawn to her ruby red lips as she spoke, and he swallowed the surge of desire that raced up his spine.

She looked at him expectantly, and it took Izana a few painfully awkward moments to remember what he was doing. He downed the remainder of his drink, leaving the glass with a passing footman, and held out a hand.

"Shall we?"