Married To Darkness
Chapter 283: Preparing For The Grand Day 2

Chapter 283: Preparing For The Grand Day 2

Jean’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and she quickly turned away, mumbling something about needing to hang her new dress. But as she ascended the stairs, she couldn’t shake the feeling of his intense gaze or the way it had sent a shiver down her spine.

’Does he need blood?’ she thought.

Lucius, standing at the base of the stairs, watched her go, his fingers tightening slightly around the handle of his umbrella. His throat ached faintly, and he pressed his tongue against his teeth. She was utterly enchanting—and utterly dangerous to his restraint.

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Morning, Birthday.

Kings Chambers

Wyfkeep Castle.

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The morning sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue across the castle grounds, but the royal household was already alive with activity.

Servants scurried through the corridors carrying trays of polished silverware, freshly pressed linens, and decorations for the grand hall. The clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen, where chefs barked orders and flames roared as they prepared an elaborate feast fit for a king.

Inside the king’s chambers, the atmosphere was markedly different—calm, methodical, and deliberate. The thick velvet curtains were drawn back, allowing the soft morning light to filter through the tall, stained-glass windows. The golden rays highlighted the grandeur of the room: a sprawling canopy bed with silk sheets, ornate furnishings inlaid with gold and gemstones, and tapestries that depicted the kingdom’s most glorious moments.

The king stood in the center of the room, his posture regal and commanding even in the early hours of the day. He wore only a simple linen robe for now, his broad shoulders and strong frame a testament to his years of rule. Around him, a team of attendants worked with quiet efficiency, each one assigned a specific task to ensure their sovereign appeared nothing less than majestic.

One attendant knelt at his feet, carefully polishing the king’s ceremonial boots. The leather gleamed under the light, the intricate golden embroidery catching the eye with every shift of the fabric. Another servant stood at a nearby table, meticulously arranging the king’s accessories: a heavy gold chain encrusted with rubies, a sapphire-studded brooch, and the ceremonial ring that symbolized the king’s authority.

The royal barber was next, stepping forward with steady hands. He carried a silver tray laden with grooming tools: scissors, a razor, and an assortment of oils and balms. With practiced precision, he trimmed the king’s beard, shaping it into a perfectly even line that accentuated his strong jaw. Once satisfied, he massaged a fragrant oil into the beard, the subtle scent of sandalwood and spices filling the room.

At the same time, the royal tailor approached with the king’s attire for the day. The garment was nothing short of magnificent—a doublet made of deep crimson velvet, embroidered with golden threads in a pattern that resembled the rays of the sun. The collar was high and stiff, adorned with pearls and tiny diamonds that shimmered with every movement. The tailor and his assistants carefully helped the king into the doublet, fastening the intricate buttons with nimble fingers.

Next came the ceremonial sash, a rich fabric of royal blue that crossed over the king’s chest, fastened at his shoulder with the sapphire brooch. The sash bore the emblem of the kingdom, a proud lion standing atop a mountain, and was a symbol of the king’s unwavering strength and leadership.

The final touch was the crown, a masterpiece of craftsmanship that combined gold, silver, and gemstones into a stunning display of power and wealth. The crown was placed upon the king’s head with great care, the attendants stepping back and bowing low as the weight of leadership was once again physically and symbolically placed upon him.

A servant approached with a gilded mirror, holding it up for the king to inspect himself. He straightened his posture, adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, and allowed a small, satisfied smile to curve his lips. He was every bit the image of a ruler—majestic, commanding, and unyielding.

"Perfect," the king murmured, his voice deep and resonant.

Soon he will step out of his chambers, and the grand corridors of the castle filled with the sound of his boots against the polished marble floor. Guards and attendants bowed deeply as he passed, their expressions a mix of awe and reverence. Today was his day, a celebration of his reign, and he would ensure that the entire kingdom remembered it.

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In the concubines’ wing of the castle, the morning was anything but calm. The wide chamber shared by Audrey and Lucille was a whirlwind of silk, laughter, and mild chaos. Sunlight poured through the tall windows draped with sheer curtains, illuminating the rich tapestries on the walls and the ornate furniture scattered across the room.

Audrey, the more composed of the two, was perched on a plush stool in front of an elaborate vanity. Her chestnut hair cascaded down her back in soft waves as her maid struggled to weave an intricate braid adorned with tiny pearls. "Be gentle, Marie," Audrey chided with a soft laugh. "I’d like to have hair left by the end of this."

Marie blushed and muttered an apology, her hands working quickly but carefully. A tray of cosmetics sat beside them, containing pots of rouge, kohl, and scented powders. Audrey dipped a delicate finger into a small jar of rose balm, dabbing it on her lips as she examined herself in the mirror. Despite the commotion around her, she radiated an air of quiet elegance.

On the other side of the room, however, Lucille was a tornado of energy. Draped in a loose silk robe, she darted from one wardrobe to another, pulling out dresses and discarding them on the floor with little regard for the maids scrambling to pick up after her.

"This one is too dull!" she exclaimed, tossing a sapphire-blue gown onto the growing pile. "And this one—ugh, it makes me look like a goose!" She spun around dramatically, her golden curls bouncing as she flung a hand to her forehead in mock despair.

"Lady Lucille, please!"