Previously
Euclid arrives at the Temple and bursts into Evgenia's waiting room, mistakenly believing she is attempting suicide when he sees her with a vial. Evgenia is internally amused by his dramatic concern, as the liquid was actually a sedative to calm her nerves.
I held out my hand, gesturing toward the object in question.
Euclid was no fool. He realized his blunder immediately. His face flushed scarlet in an instant, and though he tried to cover it with his hand, his trembling pupils were plain to see between his long, pale fingers.
Even his fingers are handsome.
I hadn't had the chance to fully appreciate them earlier, but I secretly hoped he would let me hold his hand just once more. Quashing such selfish thoughts, I straightened my lips, only to realize they had curved into a smile without my noticing.
It wouldn't do to keep smiling while he was so mortified.
Of course, Father had already been scouting for a suitable match, but I wanted to make it subtly clear that any notion of my opposing this union was entirely unfounded.
Yet, rather than showing surprise as I had expected, Euclid's expression grew oddly troubled.
Did he misinterpret my tone? I worried my words had sounded too cold or sarcastic. But then he said something wholly unexpected.
Wait, he knew?
Then why on earth did he jump to the extreme conclusion that I opposed this wedding so fiercely I would rather die?
Had Duke Basilian misconstrued my intentions?
That seemed increasingly likely. Although it hadn't been my intent, when I had practically begged Father for this match, I had certainly acted as though the Crown Prince had cut me to the quick.
Everyone knew about my history with the Crown Prince, but it was hardly something I cared to discuss in front of Euclid.
Hastily, I shifted the topic.
The moment the words left my mouth, I worried my tone had been far too sharp.
I had grown far too used to playing the role of Evgenia.
I shouldn't have spoken that way to Euclid.
Just as I feared, his face darkened. Panicking on the inside, I wondered whether I ought to soften my question and ask again, but then he spoke.
His face remained somber as he lowered his head slightly and said, “I am sorry.”
“…”
The unexpected apology left me momentarily speechless, blinking in confusion. Noting how neatly arranged his hair was from above, I tilted my head.
If anyone deserved an apology, wasn't it Euclid, who was marrying the notorious Evgenia?
That was the obvious conclusion anyone would reach. Yet Euclid slowly raised his head, a tranquil smile gracing his features like a portrait painted by a master.
“I am sorry that, compared to what the Duchy of Rodion gains from this marriage, you must settle for someone so undeserving of being your husband.”
Unable to hide my astonishment, I instinctively asked again.
His low, earnest voice carried a sincerity that could make anyone believe him, but what he was actually saying was utterly absurd.
The more I turned it over in my mind, the more preposterous it sounded, leaving me entirely at a loss for words. Meanwhile, Euclid pressed on.
I almost called it pure nonsense. This wasn't the sort of thing you said to the person you were marrying—let alone your absolute favorite.
I was just about to voice my utter disbelief when—
Knock, knock.
Anne stepped into the waiting room after a brisk knock, her eyes going wide the moment she saw Euclid and me together.
Between the shattered glass on the floor and the taut air hanging between bride and groom, it was quite a sight to behold.
In the flurry of the moment, I lost the chance to push back against Euclid’s ridiculous—practically delirious—comment, and he held out his hand to me.
The words I never got to say caught in my throat, but captivated by his gentle smile, I laid my hand in his. I could never bring myself to refuse him.
Unfortunately, I had to let go of his hand in under ten seconds.
Anne, taking in the room's atmosphere, reminded me of the veil I was supposed to wear for the ceremony.
Apparently, Temple weddings had a tradition where the bride's face was completely covered by a veil.
Hiding my reluctance as best I could, I released Euclid's hand.
( ‘It'll remain our secret that I held on a little longer than I should have.’ )
The moment Euclid awkwardly stepped out of the bridal waiting room, Anne, busy fetching the veil, asked carefully,
Though it was true in a sense, I explained in a hurry to prevent any misunderstanding about Euclid.
Even so, Anne couldn't help glancing over at the broken glass in the corner, her curiosity plain.
It lasted only an instant, however. Quickly refocusing on her duties, she finished the preparations and gasped in admiration.
Instinctively, I glanced at the full-length mirror standing in the corner of the waiting room.
The sight of myself in the wedding gown and veil felt thoroughly unfamiliar, but just as Anne had said, it wasn't half bad.
And it seemed the others shared her opinion.
At any rate, everyone was praising me.
‘Well, that's what people usually say when they see a bride in her gown.’ But for someone like me, whose dream had been to live happily ever after with my favorite, it was a little disappointing that on top of his earlier misunderstanding, he hadn't bothered to say a single word about how I looked!
( ‘Even if it's Euclid, it's hard not to feel a tiny bit slighted…’ )
Still, what was the use of pouting? With looks as dazzling as his, it was probably hard for him to be impressed.
Even though I had admired him earlier, seeing Euclid in his formal attire once more was simply arresting.
His golden hair and luminous eyes shone so brilliantly they made the bouquet in my hands feel utterly plain.
( ‘Well, it seems it's time to move along.’ )
While everyone else, including Duke Basilian, had long since headed to the guest pews, Euclid stood quietly by the entrance, staring at me without uttering a word.
I wanted to keep looking at him too, but proceeding with the ceremony took precedence, so I called out to him softly.
Startled, as though jerked from a daze, Euclid's shoulders gave a small twitch.
“…”
Like a well-trained puppy, Euclid offered his hand once more, and without a second thought, I took it.
( ‘Thank goodness for this veil.’ )
Without it, there would have been no hiding my flushed face or the erratic pounding of my heart.
Nor was it possible to steal glances at his face, as he matched his pace to mine, walking just a touch slower on my account.
Choosing a Temple wedding for its simplicity turned out to be a brilliant decision.
( ‘If only he weren't the one officiating, it would have been absolute perfection…’ )
Lifting my gaze forward, I finally saw the last key figure of this occasion: Damian.