Chapter 3

“We've gathered here once again for the wedding of our lovely Lord—”

A single glance from the Lord sent the priest or whoever he was running to the back of the wooden table on the altar.

“Er…” said the priest from his place of protection. “W-what I was trying to say is that—today is our L-lord's wedding day. And the bride may come up now.“

The 'Lord' then looked down at a very shocked and scared-looking Freya and outstretched his hands to her.

Freya felt her heart beating faster than possible as she stared at his outstretched hand. The large room was filled with people looking at her with stern and pitiful expressions on their faces.

She raised up her head and looked at his face, and noticed with scepticism that he didn't seem stressed or impatient in the least—like this was his daily routine.

What was happening? Could she be dreaming? Was this some kind of joke someone she knew had plotted? But when Freya looked around for perhaps the third time, she realised that the last one could not be true. She didn't know anybody who could manage to convince hundreds of people to help them portray a joke. And she was wearing a freaking wedding gown! What was really going on here?

Freya was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt someone drag her off from the ground with force. In the next moment, she was staring at his dark eyes with her legs going weak and fragile under her.

“Don't make me wait, or you're going to regret it,“ his voice was twice as harsh as Freya remembered.

She trembled at that moment and only managed to calm down after reassuring herself that this was all a bad dream that she was soon going to wake up from.

The Lord then shifted his gaze to the Priest and he came back to standing in front of the table. The priest blesses the couples' union and starts to ask while inadvertently avoiding the Lord's gaze: “Lord Dra—” he pauses from a groan from the Lord, and Freya immediately gets a hold on the fact that “The Lord” didn't want the priest to mention his name.

The priest shifted uncomfortably in his long robe and cleared his throat for the third time. “My Lord… do you take my Lady as your—”

“I do.“ His cold voice was really impatient this time.

Freya looked at him with the corner of her eyes, her heart hammering in her ribcage. Why was he so pissed and angry about the situation? Isn't she supposed to be the angry one since she's being forced into something like…

“My lady!“ the voice of the priest resonated in her ears, and from his tone she knew this wasn't the first time he called her.

“I—I'm sorry.“ Freya looked at the Lord as she apologised, but his attention was focused elsewhere with the usual unreadable expression on his forbiddenly-handsome face.

The priest looked really stressed as he continued. “Do you take my Lord as your—”

“I do,” Freya replied before she could stop herself.

A shock gasp escaped from the lips of everybody in the large room. And it seemed they were all thinking the same thing: Where did she get the guts to answer without letting the priest finish just because the Lord did that?

Freya felt the weight of her actions on her shoulders even before she could look around at the people in the room. She was really scared now—more scared than she had been since all of these started. And the reason she was so scared was because she knew the Lord would be furious at what she did. But surprisingly, when she took a glance at his face, she saw that he was smiling—though the smile didn't reach his eyes and he still wasn't looking at her.

“O-okay, then,” said the priest when he saw that the Lord didn't react to her actions. “My Lord, you may now kiss the bride.“

Freya stilled herself as she heard those words, since she had attended weddings before and knew that was the next thing. It wouldn't be her first time if he kissed her, so she couldn't understand why her heart raced at the thought of his lips on hers. She waited for him to make the first move, even moving closer like she was being possessed and completely forgot that there were hundreds of eager and anxious eyes watching their every move.

The Lord leaned in slowly and lowered his head with his lingering blank expression. Freya shut her eyes as she waited for it, so aroused by his appearance that his kissing her felt very normal to her brain. One second passed… then two… and three, but she still didn't feel anything.

It was only after a gasp from someone that she opened her eyes and saw that he was walking down the altar to the aisle.

Freya's mouth opened in shock. She knew she was supposed to feel relieved and happy that he didn't bother to kiss her but a part of her heart was burning in pain and irritation.

“E-erm…” the Priest stammered, like he too could hardly believe what just happened. “May the dance begin.“

Suddenly, there was a slow and sensual music being played by a band Freya had not noticed before. The Lord—or her now Husband—was nowhere to be found. Weren't they both supposed to begin the dance before the other people joined?

Soon, the people started to leave their seats without paying any attention to the forsaken bride on the altar, their face smeared in pity. Two ladies who seemed like her bridesmaid walked over to the altar and helped her climb down.

“W-what is happening, please?“ Freya asked as soon as she was down. “Can you both explain what's going on?“

They looked at her with widened eyes and bowed with apologetic looks on their faces like they weren't allowed to speak to her.

“Okay, then.“ Freya didn't want to put them in trouble by forcing them to speak. “At least, can you both take me to my hus—”

Freya caught sight of a handsome new guy dressed like royalty approaching her. At the sight of him, the two bridesmaids nodded their heads and rushed away.

“Pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said with a smile and raised her right hand to kiss her knuckles. “I'm Lord Ethan.“

Freya studied the man in front of her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a small but perfectly carved head and posture that screamed of confidence. “L-lord?“

Lord Ethan flushed. “Not much of a title. You can call me Ethan if you want.“

Freya nodded slowly, letting the information sink into her brain. “I—I don't know what to say.“

Lord Ethan smiled, not looking uncomfortable like Freya had expected. “Do you care for a dance, my lady?“

Freya studied him once again. He looked very nice and behaved well just like his face, but she still felt like she should dance with The Lord first. But then she reasoned she might have the opportunity to get answers from him if they were dancing. So she answered in the affirmative.

Lord Ethan didn't say another word and led her to the wide dance floor where a more slow waltz song was playing. They started moving slowly to the music, Freya stepping on his feet in less than six seconds since she wasn't experienced. But Lord Ethan didn't mind and lightly complimented on how pretty she was. As they danced, Freya thought of what questions to ask first. She was aware that they were being watched by many people, including some that were dancing.

“What's bothering you, my lady?“ asked Lord Ethan when he noticed she was stepping on his legs more frequently.

“I—I… What is this place?“ she asked.

His brow creased for a moment, and then his expression came back to normal. “I'm guessing you're not from here. How were you picked to be Lord… I mean—to be The Lord's bride?“

Freya clearly saw it in his eyes—the fear that crossed when he almost mentioned her husband's name. “He doesn't have a name?“

“Who?“ asked Lord Ethan like he honestly didn't know who she was talking about.

“My husband,” replied Freya, just before he took her waist and raised her to the air.

“He does have a name. But it's against our culture to let the bride know before he told her himself.“

“Okay.“ Freya knew he was lying, but didn't want to pry further. “About your other question: you were very right when you guessed that I'm not from here. I actually woke up and found myself in a room with him—and then he left and I came out and somehow found myself on the altar with a wedding dress. Can you tell me what's going on?“ Freya felt the gaze of a different person poking on her skin even before she could finish speaking, and she knew who it was even though there were quite a large number of dancing people.

“I don't know how—” Lord Ethan started to say but was suddenly cut off by someone.

“Thank you for keeping her company, Ethan. Now, can I have my bride to myself?“ his voice sent a shiver down Freya's spine, and for a second she thought he didn't like Lord Ethan.

Lord Ethan immediately backed-off and released Freya's hands. “Of course, my Lord.“ Then he turned to look at Freya's pale face. “It was nice meeting you, my Lady. And thank you for the dance.“

The Lord mentioned something under his breath as Lord Ethan left. Then he suddenly grabbed Freya's hands and said: “Come with me.“

“I'm not going anywhere!“ Freya stood her ground, looking up at his blank face.

Something flashed past his eyes as he heard her. “You really have some guts, don't you?“

“Well, I don't care what this is. I don't care why I'm in a wedding gown and why I'm being treated like I chose this. You could kill me if you want. But I'm not—”

“Is this about the kiss, my Lady?“ he asked, sounding amused.

Freya wanted the ground to open up and swallow her at that moment. Her face went scarlet red and she almost forgot the other reason why she was angry. “Why should I care about the fact that you didn't kiss me? I barely know you and—”

“Right.“ That was all he said before he gently grabbed her waist and crushed his lips on hers.