Chapter 127: A Joke
A day to the wedding and his attire was still being debated.
More relatives and acquaintances had taken up temporary residence in the castle to ensure the success of the matrimony.
Claire was nowhere to be seen, and he was always crowded with people to demand her private company.
He knew she’d been avoiding him since the night she left his room after confessing her jealousy - or maybe he was reading everything wrong.
The men gathered in the antechamber to assess his attire. Different dressmakers with exceptional qualifications rallied around him, each struggling to show him a unique cut they believe would suit the event.
He wanted to wear black, but Aunt Adisa had violently advised against it. So did everyone else.
Andon was surprisingly not there - he had always been present in every other fitting he had been forced to endure since his return.
"The grey looks nice with the coat, but I prefer the blue, what do you think?" Oswald, his father’s cousin’s son said, stroking his beard.
Uncle Casmere nodded hesitantly.
"I suppose the blue is better." He said at last.
Yeren went back into the dressing room and allowed the attendants to rid him of the grey contraption.
"That will be all for today." He said, walking away before any of them could protest.
There were many letters to be attended to and many more to be written. And Lord Malrick was pestering him to oversee the accounts because of his Aunt’s unscrupulous spending for the wedding.
Everything would be done in due time.
He just wanted to know what was wrong with Andon.
Was he ill? He seemed healthy at dinner the previous evening.
His aunt met him along the hall.
"Have you seen your bride-to-be?" She asked after they exchanged pleasantries.
He shook his head, completely oblivious to the woman’s whereabouts.
"Have you seen Andon?"
"The poor man hasn’t left his chambers this morning, Eliza has been worried about him."
His next destination was Andon’s chambers.
As he and his entourage approached the door, he heard voices.
That of Andon’s, and that of a woman’s.
He decided to wait briefly, in case the woman planned on leaving soon. But after a long while, neither came out.
He opened the door and went in.
The sight that greeted him froze him to the spot.
Garelle stood there, her chest bare while Andon stood as far away from her as possible, holding a goblet.
Both of them turned to him simultaneously. Garelle hurriedly drew the garment over her breasts with a gasp.
"Lady Plumette was just leaving, Your Grace."
The woman was different shades of red and pink as she gathered her dress around herself.
Yeren waited for her to leave quietly.
Once the door closed behind her, he rubbed his eyes.
"How did she get into your room?"
Andon shrugged. "She said she wanted to talk privately."
"Look how well that ended up. Has this happened before?"
"Yes. She came in search of me a few days ago. The woman is unrelenting."
Yeren averted his gaze.
He never imagined Garelle acting this shamelessly.
"What do I do with her? I can’t have a wife who pursues her lover so openly when we are yet to wed."
"You have to proceed with the wedding, you don’t have much of a choice either way."
He left it at that.
That evening after dinner, the men gathered to have a few drinks in celebration of his wedding.
The women retired early. Claire wasn’t among them. Her sister had been present, although the little girl never uttered a single word till she left the table.
Where was Claire?
Did she think she could avoid him forever?
Toast after toast, the thirst refused to quench.
The other men retired to their bedchambers, leaving him and Andon.
After a few more drinks, they staggered to their bedrooms.
It was the day.
His wedding day.
His attendant shook him awake - the alcohol had lulled him to sleep faster than anything else.
From what he could see, the blue attire had been chosen for him with silver accessories.
When he was dressed, he was escorted down to the carriage that was supposed to convey him to the Chapel. He had argued that he could walk the short distance, but his Aunt and everyone felt that a ride was more ornamental and momentous.
And thus, he rode in the carriage.
But then he wished he had been walking.
He saw her, hand in hand with her sister as they walked along the flower-strewn path.
She glanced at the carriage as it rode by, but only a passing look. And he hadn’t bothered to lift the curtains either.
People were already seated as the guards escorted him to the altar of the Chapel where the priest stood.
His council members had taken up a dignified position at the front pew, all smiles and laughter as they watched him make a blood alliance with one of their own.
If they thought his marriage to Garelle would give them more power over him... they thought wrong.
Claire and her sister settled at the back pew, far enough to be distant from the celebration, but close enough to witness it all.
He was getting married.
And it wasn’t to her.
He hadn’t seen his bride-to-be since the day she had left Andon’s bedchamber.
More people flooded into the Chapel, including young Lord Straught - from the sigil of the red wolf he saw. Rodick’s son who’s mating ceremony he had attended was there with his bride in matching peach-coloured attires.
The music began but there was still no sign of his bride.
Or Andon.
He could only hope that she hadn’t gone in pursuit of the poor man any longer, but his instincts warned otherwise.
Until Eliza climbed the altar heavily strewn with rose petals and daffodils just to tell him that the bride was missing.
A glance at his guards informed them that they were to go in search of her, while the rest were to follow him to Andon’s chambers.
When he got there, he unceremoniously swung the door open.
The room was dark as the drapes were yet to be drawn. But he didn’t need more light - he could see well enough.
Both of them were asleep under the sheets, her leg draped over Andon’s possessively.
And they weren’t wearing any clothing.