Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 141

Chapter 141: Rock and a hard place
Trace was torn. He followed Sapphira as was his duty as her bodyguard, yet he could do her very little good.

At least he wasn’t entirely useless, as he’d learned a short time before. He could defend her, as long as his goal was not to thwart Oakdown’s plan to get her married to Denholm.

It seemed a perfectly logical part of the plan to protect her and obey her commands until that time. Necessary, even.

The princess stormed towards the room down the hall where His Majesty was currently meeting with the evil Count. Sapphira shot a near-panicked look at Trace, as if she knew the stakes here.

Did she?

The guards at the door blocked her way uncertainly, and she couldn’t push past them. The princess glared and yelled past them instead of trying.

“Father, Father come out here right now!”

Trace waited with bated breath as the door creaked open. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement. Anaisa! What was she doing up here?

She shook her head at him subtly, and he turned away so that he didn’t draw attention to her. She ghosted out of sight around the corner as the princess confronted the king.

“What is it, Sapphira?” King Harold frowned faintly. “This behavior is not fitting. Should you need to yell for any reason within the palace, especially when we have guests, send a servant instead.”

“How am I to send a servant when these guards block the way??” The princess demanded. “Come out and stand with me. The time for meetings is over. I’ve made my decision.”

“The time for meetings is not over,” The monarch shook his head. “They have just begun. I am planning your wedding right now.”

“Yes, we are making fine progress!” Oakdown stepped up behind the king, and the monarch’s face twitched slightly.

Trace’s heart pounded.

“You need not be involved in my wedding preparations, except in your capacity as a member of the Advisory. And since I don’t see any of the rest of the Advisory present, you are free to go.” Sapphira’s eyes held fire.

“I think the groom’s father should have some role in the planning, don’t you? Perhaps not nearly so much as the bride’s family, but even so…” Oakdown acted wounded.

“I’m not marrying your son,” Sapphira spat the words as if they were poison on her tongue. “I’m going to marry Ben. Please leave now.”

“Daughter, perhaps it is best not to cause a scene in front of our guests,” King Harold’s smile was tight. “We can take this matter up in private.”

“Privately or publicly, I want it known that I. Will. Never. Marry. Him.” She pointed an accusatory finger at Denholm. “Father, I–”

“I was too gentle with you before. We are not taking up this discussion in private because there is no discussion. I have made the decision and you will abide by it.”

The king’s lips were pressed together, his jaw tight. There was struggle in his eyes, and Trace knew for certain.

Oakdown had exploited the absence of the queen’s protection and given some combination of commands to King Harold that mandated the marriage between Denholm and Sapphira.

“Perhaps we should leave,” Ben’s mother interrupted awkwardly, tugging at her husband’s sleeve. “This is a private matter and we should let you discuss it without our presence.”

Ben’s father nodded and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, we thank you both for the great honor you have done our family inviting us here today. We remain your loyal subjects.”

The family turned to leave, but Trace didn’t miss Ben’s longing look at Sapphira. She sent him a worried glance before turning her attention back to the king.

Their eyes held for a moment as a battle of wills ensued. Only, it was not the wills of the king and his daughter that were clashing. It was the will of a princess and a magical Count who could command anyone.

Trace wished he could intervene, could stop it all, could put everything right, but at the moment it all seemed utterly hopeless. His mind scrambled for any possible way to break Oakdown’s hold on the king.

“Daughter, come inside with your fiance to discuss the wedding,” King Harold ordered Sapphira. She looked horrified, and froze in place. “Now.”

Denholm strode forward with a despicable spring in his step.

“Darling, aren’t you thrilled?” He gushed, taking Sapphira’s arm.

She yanked it away. “I am not. Leave me alone.”

“But you can feel the magic between us.” He insisted, “Don’t pretend you can’t sense it.”

Sapphira made a strange face. “How are you doing that? What are you doing?”

“I’m sure these feelings are new and strange, My Pet, but you will grow used to them,” Denholm grinned.

“Stop,” She held her hand to her forehead. “Just stop it, whatever it is.”

“As you wish.” Denholm waved one hand and took her arm again. “Now, let us plan the most lavish and talked-of royal wedding this kingdom has ever seen!”

Sapphira looked as if she might put up a fight. She dug her heels in, resisting as he pulled her into the room where his father waited. The king stepped aside to let them pass, and the look on his face made the princess burst into tears.

“Father, please–”

“It is decided,” He told her, his voice nearly breaking. “I am to issue the royal decree this afternoon.”

Sapphira’s face fell, and she finally submitted to the pull on her arm, shooting a desperate look at Trace.

Denholm shot a venom-filled smirk at the bodyguard, pausing to speak to the bride in a low voice, “Soon enough you won’t have need of any bodyguard, with me by your side. I can protect you much better than he can, as I proved at the ball when I caught you and he was nowhere to be found, poor thing. I thought then that he might have some feelings for you…”

“An excellent point.” The king said suddenly, surprising them. “Trace, you’re dismissed from service. Pack your things and leave.”