Chapter Thirteen

Kyla's POV

As I sipped my wine, the whispers grew louder, a cacophony of curiosity and speculation. Suddenly, a gentle voice called out, “Kyla.”

My mother-in-law, a vision of elegance, approached me with a warm smile. She grasped my hand, her touch reassuring, and led me into the heart of the hall. With a subtle gesture, she commanded attention, her eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“Attention, everyone,” she began, her voice melodious and authoritative. “We gather tonight to celebrate a union, a bond between our kingdoms. I thank you all for traveling from the seven realms to join us.”

She raised my hand, her eyes shining with warmth. “Behold, the king's bride. I implore you, to accord her the respect and dignity she deserves.”

The hall fell silent, the only sound was the soft clinking of glasses. My mother-in-law's voice rang out once more, “Silence, please.”

The room held its breath, and then, she concluded, “Toast to the bride and a happy life!”

Glasses rose in unison, a chorus of “Cheers!” echoing through the hall. Wine flowed, and the room erupted into a joyful buzz.

My mother-in-law's gentle grip on my hand tightened. “Kyla, follow me.”

I trailed behind my mother-in-law, her gentle guidance a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. We entered her chambers, a sanctuary of warmth and elegance. She retrieved an antique box, its surface adorned with delicate patterns, and carefully dusted it with her slender fingers. A soft click echoed as she unlocked the box, revealing a treasure within.

“This necklace,” she began, her voice tinged with nostalgia, “was gifted to me by my mother when I was a child. I've cherished it, awaiting the day my son would find his bride.”

Her eyes sparkled as she lifted the necklace, its simplicity radiant in the soft light. “I want you to have it, Kyla. A symbol of our bond, and my welcome to our family.”

Emotion overwhelmed me, tears welling up like a fountain. “Mother,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

I enveloped her in a warm hug, feeling an unbreakable connection. She stroked my hair, her touch maternal and comforting. “Don't ruin your makeup, dear,” she teased, gently wiping away my tears.

“Enjoy the party, and know you are loved whatever situation you find yourself in now, " she whispered, her eyes shining with affection.

As we parted, I felt a deep sense of belonging, my heart filled with gratitude.

Kira trailed behind me, her discreet presence a comforting constant. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, “Kyla!”

Dean, the Royal Adviser, approached with a dazzling smile, his blond hair and gray eyes radiant in the evening light. His chiseled features and confident stride made him difficult to ignore, but I reminded myself I was married.

“We meet again,” he said, offering his arm to escort me.

I accepted, feeling a flutter in my chest. “Yeah,” I replied, shyly.

“How do you like this place?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

“It's grand,” I said, attempting to play it cool.

Dean chuckled. “I see that from your stunning look.”

My cheeks flushed, and I cast my gaze downward, unable to meet his piercing eyes. His compliment left me breathless.

“And where is the groom?” Dean asked, his tone light and friendly.

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. The truth was, I had never met my groom, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine.

“I'll leave now,” I said, avoiding the question.

Dean bowed graciously, his smile unwavering. “Okay, Milady.”

As I walked away, I felt his gaze follow me, warm and gentle.

I scanned the room, my eyes searching for a familiar face. In my mind, I had conjured an image of my groom, but none of the faces matched the perfect man I had envisioned. Frustration simmered within me as I glanced over my shoulder, expecting him to appear.

But he was nowhere to be found.

Disappointment washed over me, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of anger. Why hadn't he shown up? Didn't he know how important this night was?

A dignified figure emerged from the crowd, adorned in royal attire. His introduction was laced with a charming smile. “Hello, sister-in-law. I'm Dave, your husband's stepbrother.”

As he spoke, his words spilled out in a ceaseless torrent. His gaze lingered on me, making my skin crawl. I watched, transfixed, as his lips moved with an unsettling enthusiasm.

Dave's hand reached out, his fingers grazing my skin. I recoiled, instinctively retreating from his touch. A shiver ran down my spine.

Just then, a stern voice called out, “Dave!” His smile faltered, and he shrugged before departing.

Relief washed over me as I stood, eager to escape. I swiftly exited the hall.

As I retreated to my room, my mind whirled with questions. How many brothers did my husband have? The term “stepbrother” lingered in my thoughts, accompanied by Dave's unsettling demeanor.

His weird behavior stirred unease within me. What else didn't I know about my husband? A pang of loneliness struck, and I yearned for my family's comfort. I missed my dad's reassuring presence, wishing I could rest my head on his thigh and feel safe.

While navigating the hallway, a loud “thud” echoed, followed by silence. I paused, curiosity piqued. Where did the sound come from? I approached a sturdy, ancient door, pressing my ear against it. The silence was oppressive.

Shrugging, I attributed it to fatigue and continued to my room. Perhaps I was hearing things.

“Dean!” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned, his eyes locking onto mine as he descended the stairs.

“I guess we're meant to be,” he joked, a charming smile spreading across his face. “We've been meeting from every angle.”

I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest. Dean approached, his hand reaching out to gently remove a stray thread from my hair. His fingers brushed against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

My necklace had tangled with his tie, and I fumbled to untangle it, my hands shaking with nervousness. Dean's eyes crinkled with amusement. “Let me,” he offered, his voice low and soothing.

As he worked to free the necklace, his fingers grazed my skin, sending waves of electricity through my body. “There,” he whispered, his whiff tickling my ear.

I apologized, my face flushing with embarrassment. Dean brushed it off, his smile reassuring.

As I continued to my room, a hand suddenly pulled me into a dark hallway. I screamed, but a palm clamped over my mouth, silencing me.

I bit off the hand “Help” I screamed