The Prince's Arranged Marriage
Chapter 58: Wedding Eve

Chapter 58: Wedding Eve

Night draped its silken curtain over Valtoria Palace as Lucien lay awake in his bedchamber. Outside his window, the soft glow of lanterns cast dancing patterns on the courtyard below, and the distant murmur of the city whispered through the open casement. Yet sleep refused him. Each second stretched into minutes, and each minute into hours, as his mind raced with the weight of the coming day—his wedding day.

He turned onto his back, staring at the frescoed ceiling above. Painted figures of Avaloria’s ancient gods and Veridia’s legendary heroes gazed down, their expressions distant yet expectant. Lucien pressed a hand to his chest and felt the rapid drum of his heart. Tomorrow, he would stand before two kingdoms, pledge his life to another man, and step into a role that had been scripted long before he drew his first breath.

*What will it feel like?* he wondered, eyes moving toward the polished wooden floor. *Will my heart betray me?* Memories of his journey with Alexander flashed unbidden: shared smiles in Frostmere’s winter glow, whispered confessions in Halcyon Reach, and that first hesitant kiss amid Ivora’s blossom-laden meadow. Though arranged by politics, their union had blossomed into something real—an understanding, a fragile trust he had never imagined possible.

He sighed, rolling onto his side. He had readied himself for sacrifice—duties to be divided, perhaps even relinquished. He had steeled himself for the pomp and protocol. But tonight’s jitters were different. They pulsed with the possibility that he could marry not just a prince he respected and tolerated, but a man he truly liked...perhaps even loved.

Lucien swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pacing the thick Persian rug. The silence of his chamber felt both comforting and oppressive, the painted walls closing in around him. He crossed to the tall, arched window and looked out across the moonlit gardens. He saw the statues lining the walk—silent sentinels of Avaloria’s past—and felt the ache of missing Alexander’s supportive presence. *I wish he were here, too,* he thought, flattening both palms against the cool glass.

His pacing brought him to the heavy wooden door, which bore the Veridian crest. He hovered, hand on the latch, as if contemplating wandering the palace corridors for relief. But his resolve faltered, and he stepped back, retreating to the hearth where embers still glowed. He picked up the ceremonial ring—a simple band of intertwined silver and gold threads—from a nearby table and held it in his palm.

*This ring binds us,* he mused, *not just in ceremony, but in sharing our burdens.*

At that moment, he heard soft footsteps outside, and the door opened quietly.

"Elara?" he asked, turning.

She entered with practiced grace, closing the door behind her. Her hair was loose, shimmering like spun gold in the firelight, and her violet gown draped around her like a comforting shade. She carried a small tray with hot tea and a light snack—sweet honey cakes from Altheria.

"You couldn’t sleep either?" she asked, setting the tray on a nearby table.

He offered a rueful smile. "It seems sleep has forsaken me."

She poured them both tea, the fragrant steam curling between them. "It’s the night before your wedding," she said gently. "Even if you’re the mightiest prince, you’re still only human."

Lucien accepted a cup, cradling it. "I know I should be honored and privileged," he admitted, "but I can’t help feeling... unsettled. I worry I’ve become nothing more than a pawn. And yet..." He looked into her eyes, searching for solace. "And yet, I find I look forward to standing beside him. That thought terrifies me more than any political maneuver."

Elara placed her hand on his. "You’re not a pawn. You’re Lucien Damon, heir to Veridia, and a man with a heart. You’ve earned every moment of this wedding. Alexander... he chose to stand by you, not because it was their parents’ plan, but because he grew to care for you." She paused, sipping her tea. "That’s rare. Far too rare. It’s not to be feared, but celebrated."

Her words, so sincere and unwavering, eased something tight within Lucien’s chest. He leaned back, the teacup resting against his heart. "Thank you, Elara. I don’t know what I’d do without you here."

She offered a small smile. "And I promised I’d be by your side until after the wedding. Now, try to rest. Tomorrow will come soon enough."

He nodded, and she rose to leave. "Goodnight, Luc," she said softly.

"Goodnight," he replied, watching her depart before returning to bed, the embers of the fire reflecting newfound courage in his eyes.

---

Morning sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, painting the chamber in soft gold. Lucien’s eyes fluttered open to the distant toll of the palace chapel bell—a melody meant to steady the nerves on the dawn of a royal wedding. He lay still for a heartbeat, gathering his thoughts. Today he would marry Alexander and step into a future fraught with promise and peril.

Outside his door, the palace was already bustling. Valets scurried with pressed uniforms, tailors made final adjustments to ceremonial coats, and the distant scent of jasmine roses drifted in from fresh arrangements being placed in every hall. Lucien swung his feet over the edge of the bed and rose, the wood floor cool beneath his slippers.

Elara waited in the antechamber, her gown an uplifting emerald green that complemented her brother’s Veridian blue. She carried a small makeup pouch and a brush that she’d used since childhood to tame his unruly hair before state events.

"Morning," she greeted, offering him a smile that blended reassurance with the mischief only a sister could provide.

He gave a shaky laugh. "Morning feels like midday jitters, honestly."

She moved behind him, carefully parting his hair as she had many times before. "We’ll get you ready. Step by step."

---

They entered the private dressing room—a long, mirrored hall where Alexander’s tailor and Lucien’s own Valerian seamstress stood in silent readiness. The mirrors reflected rows of finely made uniforms: coat of deepest cobalt embroidered with Veridia’s double eagle, and Avaloria’s midnight blue coat threaded with silver griffins. Each set bore elements of both kingdoms’ heraldry, symbolizing their union.

Elara guided Lucien to a plush stool in front of a large mirror. "First, the shirt," she said, handing him the starched white linen that had been folded with near-religious care. He slipped it on, the crisp fabric smoothing over his shoulders like armor.

Next came the waistcoat—a rich blue of Veridian velvet, trimmed with fine gold braid. He buttoned it slowly, the weight of gold threads feeling strangely comforting. Elara adjusted the hem.

"Perfect," she murmured, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

Then they moved to the coat, its tailored shoulders and fitted sleeves reflecting both form and function. As Lucien stood to allow the tailor to adjust the fit, Elara produced a small, velvet-lined box from her pocket.

"A gift from Mother and Father," she announced.

He opened it to reveal a delicate pendant—a single sapphire set within a circle of interwoven gold and silver threads. "Our mother chose the sapphire," Elara explained softly. "She said it represents Veridia’s steadfast heart."

Lucien felt a surge of emotion as he cradled the pendant. Elara gently fastened it around his neck, the cool stone resting near his collarbone.

"I’ll carry it with me always," he whispered, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Elara brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "You’ll do more than carry it. You’ll wear it with pride."

He closed his hand around the small trinket, feeling both its weight and its promise. The dressing room, filled with mirrors reflecting a prince’s final transformation, seemed to hum with possibilities. As Elara stepped back, Lucien took one last, steadying breath.

Tomorrow, he told himself, everything changes. But I will stand tall, wearing the symbols of my kingdom and the tokens of my family’s love.

He turned to Elara, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he said simply.

She smiled, tears glinting. "Go be the prince—and the man—you were meant to be."

Lucien offered a final nod before turning back to the mirror, ready to face the day that would shape not only his destiny, but the future of two kingdoms united.