11 Scars
Those dark eyes were dimmer than they used to, but the life was no longer snuffed out of them.
Akira clung to the arms of Daphne's nanny, and as Daphne passed by, she shouted something into the air. Her broken voice was muffled by the otherwise jeering crowd, but the sight of her alone was enough for Daphne.
It was more than she had hoped for. Akira was well, and at least, Daphne could see her for one last time, no matter how short it was.
She looked toward the Northern King, and it was clear that he also was aware of Akira's presence. "I told you that I was not a liar like you," he whispered into her ear, and the suggestive gesture sent the crowd into yet another riot. "I told her that she would be free to go, but she wanted to see you wed before she and your nanny departed."
If Daphne had not known any better, she would have thought this to be a gesture of kindness. After all, he was letting her loved ones attend their wedding.
But alas, Daphne was not stupid. All he wanted to do was bring her more shame by letting those she loved see her suffer and bow down.
She clung to his neck a bit more, thinking of how she would soon see his limp head roll back.
She was now free to kill him. Akira was back from the brink of death, and although the scars would never fully heal, she would be free to leave the palace.
Daphne would make the man pay for his crimes. For every blade he scarred Akira with, she would make sure that she slashed an equal mark at his heart.
They arrived in another tent, this time more modest.
In it was a single redwood coffin, the one Daphne had been carried in from, as well as rows of candles that hurt her eyes. A giant bed of furs was propped nearby.
Despite how well-lit the entire room was, the heat from the countless candles immediately made it seem as if they teleported straight to the center of hell.
He lightly rested her on the bed, but as soon as her back hit the soft furs, Daphne sprang back up and ran towards the wall.
"Shy?" He half-joked. "Your Highness had been a lot bolder mere moments ago in the other place, or was it just the thought of caressing your present husband in front of the altar of the deceased one enough to bring that side out from you?"
The revolting idea had never even crossed Daphne's mind. Whatever issues he had with his deceased brother, she would make sure that both of her "husbands" were dead by the end of the night.
"A moment is worth a thousand gold right now."
She hated how he dared to use a proverb from the Kingdom of Eversun.
He walked closer, bringing her hands to the edge of his shirt. Her hands shook, and she could barely grip the slick fabric. Especially as the palms of her hands were slightly sweaty, her grasp loosened.
She had to make sure that he wasn't hiding any more tricks up his sleeves.
Taking in a deep breath, she motioned to grab the fabric again. He must have seen right through her feigned confidence because he took her hands into his larger ones.
Smiling, with one fluid movement, he guided her hands upward, and very soon, his outer cloak rested in a pile on the ground.
Inside was a thin black shirt with buttons running down its center. The ivory-colored buttons were eerily shiny.
"Do you like these buttons?"
He pressed her fingertips against their outline.
"They're made of bone."
She paused her movement.
"Human bone."
Half jumping back, she felt her heart catch against her throat.
He took a moment to relish her reaction before chuckling. "I'm only joking. They're made of polished oxen bone."
Daphne couldn't tell whether he was joking, but it was like she had much of a choice otherwise anyway. She closed her eyes, reaching for the top button. Slowly, she fumbled around with it until it came undone.
A bare patch of skin shone through, one that was equally as pale as his face. It was almost like there was no ounce of blood within his body.
She unbuttoned another one, doing so until she reached the end of the column, averting her eyes the entire time.
"Why won't you look at me?" For a moment, his voice was softer than usual, taking Daphne by surprise.
His amber eyes were slightly watery, and if Daphne had been an outsider watching this affair, she might have been fooled into thinking that he was a loving husband who was complaining about his bride not giving him attention.
His bare chest peeked from behind the shirt, and a meshwork of crisscrossing scars made a blazing map across his skin.
While Daphne had been horrified earlier at how many scars Akira had, she had to admit that he had much more. Some were near white, patches of skin that had partially healed over time, and some others were darker. These bands traveled across his entire chest, snaking onto his back.
It would have been the perfect time to plunge the dagger into his chest, but somehow, Daphne couldn't muster the strength.
For a moment, she stood in silence at the scars, wondering what exactly the Northern King had gone through previously in order to obtain them.
"Are you done looking?"
His eyes had turned back to his normal, emotionless ones.
"If you are, let's proceed with the most important part of the wedding." He motioned to untie her dress.
She scampered back away, afraid that he would find the dagger, mentally cursing herself for not seizing the perfect opportunity earlier.
There must have been a reason for him to deserve the scars. They could have been from fighting and killing her very own people. Or perhaps someone had punished him for a crime that he once committed.
No matter the reason, he was her enemy.
And her sole goal was to kill him.
