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The Binding Ribbon
publish date:
2021-04-05 15:00:45Adalia’s Journal
Day 2,412.
A gown laced so tightly I cannot breathe, sitting beside a prince who claims me, across from the man I used to love. And now, the Kings demand our vows.
The steel stays of Adalia's corset dug relentlessly into her ribs with every breath she dragged into her lungs. She had traded her blood-stained tunic for a formal black and red ceremonial gown, but as she stood at the threshold of the grand dining hall, she felt more trapped in this silk cage than she ever had in her plate armor.
She squared her shoulders, smoothed down her skirts, and forced her chin high. She was a warrior of the South, and she refused to let this Northern court see her shake.
Archer was waiting for her at the archway. The moment she crossed the threshold, he offered his broad arm, his hazel eyes softening with something scarily intense. “You look magnificent, Princess.”
“You’re actually in a dress,” Xander’s smooth voice cut through the air from his seat at the long U-shaped table. He was leaning back, a sly, familiar smirk playing on his lips that hit Adalia with a wave of unbearable nostalgia.
“She looks extraordinary,” Archer shot back, his tone dropping into a cold, lethal register before Adalia could open her mouth. He threw a glare down the table that could have frosted solid steel.
Adalia gave Archer a tight, grateful nod, then instinctively stuck her tongue out at Xander—a stupid, reflexive habit from their childhood that made Archer’s arm flex violently beneath her fingers. Archer marched her straight to the head of the table, standing like a wall beside her chair until Xander was forced to look away and sink back into his seat.
As the servants poured the spiced wine, Adalia's hands began to tremble under the table linen. The memories of her thirteenth birthday were screaming in her ears—the day her father took her training steel away, locked her in the maiden quarters, and told her her only purpose was to bear royal children.
Now, sitting beside a Northern prince while the man she used to love watched her from twenty feet away, the air felt too thick to breathe.
Under the tablecloth, a broad, warm hand gently covered her shaking knuckles. Adalia flinched, looking over at Archer, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring straight ahead at the high council, his large palm offering a steady, quiet grounding that surprisingly anchored her spiraling thoughts.
King Lionell slammed his golden goblet onto the board, the heavy sound ringing off the high stone rafters. The room went dead silent.
“We drink tonight for our victory against the rebels!” Lionell roared, his voice booming through the hall.
“And we drink for our bloodlines,” King Gabrielle added, standing beside him with a severe look on his face. “To bind our realms forever against all enemies, we announce the formal betrothal of our heirs.”
Gabrielle grabbed Adalia's right hand, pulling her to her feet, while Queen Leora stepped forward with a thick length of crimson silk. She wrapped the ribbon tightly around Adalia's wrist—the legal mark that she remained her mother's property until formal marital vows were spoken.
Across the table, Queen Ilana took Archer’s sword scabbard, stripping him of his legal right to draw steel without his King’s leave until he took a wife.
“Leora, Queen of the South,” Lionell announced, his voice echoing over the silent nobles. “I give you my son to protect, companion, and rule alongside your daughter!”
“I accept,” Queen Leora answered clearly.
Gabrielle held Adalia’s bound hand out toward Archer. “Ilana, Queen of the North, I give you my daughter as wife, confidant, and future Queen of your realm.”
“I accept,” Queen Ilana responded.
The ceremonial ribbon was brought forward to join Archer’s wrist to Adalia's. Cold panic seized Adalia's chest—the corset squeezed every remaining drop of oxygen from her lungs. She looked up at Archer and saw a bead of sweat glistening on his pale forehead. He was just as terrified of losing his freedom as she was.
Gathering every single ounce of her nerve, Adalia pulled her hand back before the priest could step forward. “Father... Your Majesty... I request that we delay the final marriage vows!”
The hall went dead quiet. Every noble froze mid-breath. Adalia turned her head toward Archer, her dark eyes wide and pleading, silently begging him to back her up before her father had her dragged away.
M.O KenyanUnlock Chapter 9 to see if Archer risks his crown to support Adalia's rebellion!
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