by Glint, Chloe
"Dance with me?" Kale tried to smile at his bride.
"Really?" Camille stared at his extended hand as if he intended to hit her.
"Of course." Kale nodded.
After a moment of hesitation, Camille took his hand.
****
As Camille swayed in Kale's arms, her head throbbed. She'd always gotten the nastiest of headaches after a crying jag and now was no different. If she had stabbed her fork into her temple, she doubted her head would ache more than it did now. Her pains didn't lesson because she was dancing with her husband, either. The man was making attempts at small talk, but she noted how his eyes kept darting toward Gabrielle. He would rather be dancing with her sister, and if not with her, then likely every other maiden in the room. She blew out a sigh and glanced over at her parents who were watching from the corner. Both of them appeared worried. You two can rest easy. I don't intend to make a scene, she thought.
Suddenly, sharp agony caused her to gasp, drawing her from her observations. Her husband had trodden upon her foot. Thank heavens she had taken off the strange shoes her mother had forced upon her or else it might have hurt worse. At least her husband wasn't looking at Gabrielle anymore and stared down at her feet, red-faced, instead.
"I'm so sorry," Kale said. "Are you alright?"
In dance class, Camille had been stuck with the clumsiest boy. Her feet had been swollen for weeks, but she'd managed to get thick skin—or at least, thick feet.
"It's fine." Camille shrugged. "This is not the first time this has happened."
"I'm not especially coordinated." Kale's voice was pained. "I never have been. It kills my father when he drags me along on his games. Not that I'll be going along anymore with what he cursed me with."
She knew he hadn't meant to say what he had because of his horrified expression, but the words still stung. Still she wasn't going to blame him. She hung her head so her dark hair hung in her face. For once, she was glad she had locks that were so wild. It concealed her expression from Kale. She prayed that he could not see her bottom lip tremble as it often did when she was upset.
Suddenly, it became too hard to breathe in the crowded room. It was her dream wedding. Ladies spun with finely dressed men. A chandelier spilling rivers of golden light hung from the ceiling. The supper, fat chickens dripping with juices and roasted potatoes, caused the air to be overcome with a rich and succulent smells. But despite the fact all of the small parts that should have made up her perfect wedding were right, everything about the night was wrong. She could not bear to be in the arms of Kale anymore. She could not bear to smell his sweet skin and know that his heart was not hers to have. The pain was powerful enough that she wrenched her arm away and stepped back.
"Camille?" Kale stared at her, his eyes widening.
Another tear trickled down her face. She tasted salt upon her tongue. Though Kale reached for her, she realized she would rather be stabbed with a hot poker than allow him to touch her. She raced from the room and into the hallway. A couple sat in the corner drinking wine the color of blood. Desperate to not be seen in such distress, she headed into the garden where she stood, shivering, beneath the moonlight, unsure of what to do.
****
Kale did not go after Camille, but he thought about it. Instead he stood dumbly in the middle of the room, staring at the wall. The look on Camille's face was not one he would soon forget. It had been that of a wounded animal. He would not have been surprised if she cried tears of crimson. Despite the fact that Camille was not Gabrielle, he didn't want to see an expression like that ever again. It's not your fault, he told himself. Your father did this. Somehow, despite that, he blamed himself. He'd have to apologize.
Kale bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. He pushed people aside and left the room. When he reached the stairs, he jumped them two at a time. The hallway, though it was short, took him what felt like an eternity to walk down. When he reached the bedroom destined for him and his bride, he paused, wondering if Camille was inside. The thought of seeing her weep made him want to turn and flee again. He stood still, not knowing for how long. It could have been seconds or hours.
After a shaky breath, he tightened his grip on the handle. He was being a coward. He could not be afraid of his bride. If she was inside, then he would have to deal with her feelings as well as his own, even though right now it felt as though his heart was crushing him. He, though shaking, pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He felt as though he'd plunged into the icy sea.
The inside of the room was dark. No lone bride lay curled up on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Everything remained untouched. He headed over to the bed and stared down at the sheets, his cheeks reddening. Tonight was supposed to be the best night of his life, but now…He swallowed, then flopped headfirst onto the sheets. A shallow breath escaped his lips.
A few minutes passed. Somebody knocked on the door. He sat straight up, his pulse racing madly. Camille! His lips pursed at the thought of seeing her.
"Kale," his mother said from the other side of the door. "Kale, are you inside? I need to speak with you. Please."
Kale's fists tightened on the covers. He wasn't sure he was disappointed or relieved that it was not his bride. All he knew was that he wasn't ready to talk to his mother. Normally, she was his confidant, but now he was ashamed of himself because he had been fooled by his father so terribly. He didn't want to look her in the eye, so instead of answering her call, he rolled onto his side and stared out the window.
Chapter Eight
After Camille managed to calm herself, she trudged up the steps to her room. Her body trembled at the thought of looking Kale in the eye. She half hoped he had fled from their sleeping place. When she reached her door, she was relieved to see that the light was not on. On some level, though, she was disappointed too. She had spent a great deal of time girding her loins. No matter how she had been shamed, no matter how hurt she felt, she had behaved horribly by fleeing from Kale at their wedding party. Like it or not, she was a married woman now, and she owed her new husband an apology for embarrassing him further.
She turned the handle on the door and went inside. After she had shut the door behind her, she froze when she saw a lump on the bed. Covers draped over a figure stretched across a mattress. I can't do this. I can't. Her throat tightened and she whirled around. She needed more time to prepare, more time to—
"I've been waiting for you," said Kale as blankets shifted.
Slowly, she turned back around and peered through the darkness. Kale sat up, the blankets bunched around his waist. The darkness and the closeness between them crushed her. Before she had thought being around Kale in a group was bad. This was worse. She fished through her brain, trying to find the right words to say. Finally, she found a handful.
Camille swallowed. "I'm sorry, Kale, about leaving you at the wedding party."
"Don't you go apologizing." Kale ran his hand through his hair. "None of this is your fault. I wanted to run from the room myself."
Neither of them spoke again. Kale shifted in the bed, obviously uncomfortable, then patted a spot at his side.
"Just come over here, will you?" Kale said. "It'll be easier for us to talk if you aren't so far away."
At first Camille hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to be closer to her new husband. She was frightened that her brain would become mush again. You promised yourself that you would be brave, Camille reminded herself. Even as her legs screamed and she longed to turn away, she walked toward Kale and took her place at his side. She swallowed hard. Silence overwhelmed the room again.
"What happens now?" She whispered.
"I don't know." Kale sighed. "I'm not sure what to do. This is all too much."
She groaned and hid her face in her hands. She wished she had never gotten her hopes up, wished that she had never allowed herself to believe that Kale's interests were truly in her. How many times had she told herself that she was not lucky enough to find a young, smart suitor?
If only she'd realized something was wrong the moment she received a letter from a handsome gentleman. Never again would she allow herself to be overcome by such whimsy. This was reality.
As she struggled with her feelings, she was surprised when a warm hand grasped her own. She looked up into Kale's eyes and noted that his expression was not as hard anymore.
"Don't cry again," Kale said. "Please. I don't think I can handle seeing you wear that expression."
"My apologies." She hung her head and swallowed.
Once again Kale did not speak, but he did nod. A burning question permeated her brain. How disappointed was Kale that he had pulled back her veil and had seen her face instead of Gabrielle's? A lot, judging by the way he looked. She begged herself not to ask the question, but it was burning her up inside.
"You must really hate this." Camille chewed her lip anxiously. "I wouldn't be happy if I expected a butterfly and got a lizard on my wedding day."
Kale glanced at her wearily. "Don't speak of yourself in such a way. You aren't Gabrielle, but you aren't a lizard either."
She gazed down at herself. If she was Gabrielle, her flesh would have been so fair it glowed. Yet Kale was still being kind to her. His sweet personality was the same in real as in his letters. The fact just made her feel more horrible. He was a good person, yet he'd been betrayed.
"You're looking sadder and sadder by the second." Kale squeezed her hand. "I don't know what I said to upset you further, but maybe we should lie down and sleep. It's been a long day."
"The longest." Camille nodded her head in agreement.
Both of them stared at each other. The moment was not the slightest bit romantic. Instead it was just awkward and strange, as if she was a filly learning to walk for the first time. The only person she had slept beside was her sister, and the two of them had never gone out of their way to cuddle. She wasn't sure what was expected of her. Should she stay close, or should she draw away?
Kale answered the question for her and, shaking as much as she was, settled down into bed at her side. His lips were thin and his jaw was tense again. Yet he did not look away from her. After a moment of hesitation, Camille lay down facing him too. Her breathing was irregular and her heart thundered in her chest. Despite a thousand questions that danced in her head, she knew that she would not have any carnal relationships tonight. There was no way Kale would touch her. It was just as well, because she was not certain she could stomach it if he did.
With a sigh, her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to force herself to sleep. Despite how hard she tried, all she could hear was Kale's uneasy breathing from beside her. Despite her efforts, she could not forget he was there.
****
After Camille joined him in bed, Kale willed himself to sleep. Still he could not manage to even shut his eyes. Whenever he did, his mind replayed the moment when he had pulled back his bride's veil and had found the wrong person. He also kept thinking about how his father had betrayed him. Everything today had gone wrong. He could not understand why it had happened to him. He was a religious person because of his mother. She had drilled her faith into him even when his father secretly ranted and spat at the church behind closed doors. He wondered whether God was angry at him. Why had he been given an unsuitable match? He and Camille simply would not work together. Her features were too odd for him to be drawn to. The girl appeared smart enough, an asset he could respect, but he didn't think they would be much of a mental match either. Yet now he had no choice but to spend the rest of his life with someone he could never grow to love.
He did not know whether it was better or worst that Camille appeared to grasp that truth just as much as he did. Though she had not spoken the words out loud, it had been clearly visible by the sadness in her eyes. I wish this had not happened to the two of us. She deserves better. Guilty by his feelings and his thoughts, he squeezed Camille's hand in hopes that he might feel a rush of attraction toward her. Unfortunately, all he experienced while holding his bride's hand was a bad taste in his mouth.
Chapter Nine
Camille barely slept at all, but during the last few hours of early morn, she managed a few winks. Now that she was awake, she sat up quickly and stared into the mirror. Her hair was a massive tangle of weeds upon her head. Her face was red, blotchy, and dampened from drool. Oh please tell me that Kale did not see me like this. I look horrendous. When she saw her husband sitting at a desk, though, she knew he had not only seen her, he had many minutes to study her. She winced and tried to tame her wild locks with her fingers, but they just sprang up as before.
Unfortunately, Kale chuckled. She had a feeling it was at the expense of her hair.
"Good morning," Kale said.
"Morning." Camille made one last attempt at patting down the massive bush on her head and failed. "How long have you been awake?"
"An hour or so." Kale paused. "If you could call what I did sleeping."
She frowned and thought, He doesn't look as though he had any trouble resting. It didn't seem fair that she could wake up in the morning looking like a wildebeest when he was perfect in every way. His skin was flawless, his hair was brushed back behind his ears, and his eyes were sharp and intelligent. She had to fight down the deep desire to muse his hair only to make the situation a little fairer.
Frowning, she struggled out of the bed. The wood was cool beneath her toes. She looked down at herself and suddenly remembered that she hadn't gotten out of her wedding dress the night before. It was now bunched at her thighs and revealed her legs. She whimpered, blushing, and pulled at the material so that it covered her. If Kale had any interest, he didn't show it. He didn't even look at her again. Instead he gazed at a dress the color of ivy that lay draped on a wooden chair.
"Today we'll be going to our home for the first time," Kale said. "My mother had this dress sent up for you."
She nodded. The dress was lovelier than anything she had ever worn before. She had always had fine clothes. Yet the nicest throws and the most beautiful gowns had always been gifted to her sister, either from suitors or from their parents. She knew it was easy to want to dress her sister. The girl looked like a doll. I just know she'd love to see the dress. I'll wear it today when I say goodbye. Even the thought of leaving her sibling behind made her flinch.
Still she could not wallow for forever. She walked over to the dress. Momentarily she saw her sister's image. It was easy to imagine Gabrielle prancing through the fields with her golden hair streaming behind her. It was also too easy to imagine Kale standing beside her, hand in hand. The two of them would have made a fine match. Her heart ached and she shook her head to clear it. She picked up the dress and gritted her teeth in defiance. She'd appear just fine in the dress. Who cared if she didn't have her sister's hair or fair skin? She tucked the dress beneath her armpit and turned around, trying to maintain her calm. That was when she froze. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to change. Naturally, people would expect Kale to help her with her clothes. It was the night after their wedding, after all. He was supposed to know her body.
Either because of her silence or her sudden stillness, Kale looked at her again, a frown upon his face. "What's the matter? Don't you like the dress?"
"The dress is fine," Camille squeaked.
"Then what's the problem?"
"There is no place for me to change." Camille held the dress tighter.
"Oh." For once, Kale's perfect facade slipped away and his face became the hue of a roasted pig. "I see. I'll turn around, shall I?"
She became so hot from embarrassment she was surprised the dress didn't catch on fire simply from her touch. "I need help with a dress like this. My sister always tied my corset. It is not a simple thing, putting on a gown of this type."
If Kale had been red before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. She wondered whether they were mirror images of each other. It was too easy for her to imagine both of their heads exploding, spattering gore along the walls.
"How about I turn aroun
d and take off this dress, then you help me pull on this other one," Camille said. "My back will be turned toward you. You won't see a thing."
"I suppose I am your husband." Kale said the last word as though it chocked him.
Because she didn't have the ability to speak, she nodded and turned. She, heart beating fast, shut her eyes and counted to ten. As she counted, she tried to pretend that she was completely alone. She didn't want to remember that her husband was standing beside her, watching her. She was glad he appeared shy. If he touched her too much, she was certain she would turn into a puddle of mush.
As she struggled with these feelings, she bent down and seized the bottom of her dress. When she pulled it over her head, the world spun. She threw her wedding dress, stained with her own horrible memories, to the floor at her side. Her matching undergarments, a cream colored piece with a bushel and corset, would be harder to remove. It was a shame she couldn't wear it with the ivy dress because the pieces wouldn't match. It was also a shame she needed help loosening the lace of her corset.
"Can you help me?" Camille whispered. "Just quickly."
"Help you?" Kale sounded as though she had asked him to chop off his own thumb and give it to her as a present. "How so?"
"Just untie the corset." Camille squeezed her eyes shut.
Silence fell. At first, she thought her new husband would shame her by not coming to her assistance. But he released a weary breath and drew nearer. She could hear his heavy breathing as he stood behind her. His fingers brushed her neck, making her skin tingle and her stomach twist at the same time. He reached for the first piece of lace, gathered it in his fingers, and then tugged. She could feel how much his hand trembled. Finally, though, the corset was loosened and her skin was revealed. Before her husband, even though she was only facing forward, she felt like the most vulnerable person in the world.
****