Faint footsteps and the murmurs of dozens of people could be heard from inside the bride’s dressing room. The ceremony was about to begin, and Naavah was fixing her white embroidered veil with shaking hands. Inspecting her reflection in the mirror, she admired her simple dress. With long sleeves, elegant embroidery at the waist, and small folds on the bottom edges, it complemented both her body and features. Although she was not the one who chose this wedding dress, she found it mesmerizing. Naavah just hoped that her future actions would not be wrong, not embarrass the Duke of Wintkrim. She often fainted or made ludicrous gestures out of nervousness in front of people, but now the memory of Fyodor’s smile encouraged her to at least try to control herself. Albeit she was not in love with him, she still wanted to make a good impression, especially since they were the main focus of the event. She decided this from the moment she heard the wedding day was set.

Two weeks had passed since their meeting, and Naavah was forced to remain in bed the whole time due to sickness. It had been impossible for her to help with the preparations for the ceremony, and although she was relieved that someone else had to take care of the many details, she still wished to be a part of the event, even a little. During that time, Alex, her aunt, gave her advice on how a wife should behave, what her duties would be, and how things would change, while her uncle, Dargan, always reminded her, whenever he could, that she must thank them for everything they had done for her. However, the day before was the hardest for her, as she had to travel to her future husband’s manor. When Dargan and Fyodor settled on the wedding, they both agreed it would be preferable to hold it at Fyodor’s manor. Although Fyodor only wanted this because he thought it would be easier and better for Naavah’s health, Dargan only thought of the inconveniences that would arise if the wedding took place in his own mansion. And Naavah knew it from the beginning but kept her mouth shut to avoid a beating.

After hearing a knock on the door, she saw Ubertina peeking inside the room to announce the beginning of the ceremony. Sighing, Naavah closed her eyes and exhaled deeply while rubbing her palms before she took her uncle’s arm. Despite her shallow breathing, she smiled broadly upon noticing Fyodor in front of the altar. It was the most desired moment of the whole day, that is, seeing her future husband again, especially after she realized how well the dress fit her. However, she wasn’t the only one impatient for the reunion. When Fyodor saw Naavah, his heart began to beat as if it would burst out from his chest. He was proud to be this woman’s husband. She was dazzling but also intriguing. After their first meeting, he reflected on the expressed requests and found them promising. Having participated in so many military campaigns among the empire, he knew many stories of marriage, marital flaws, advice regarding the husband’s behavior, and a woman’s way of acting. However, based on her way of speaking, thoughts, values, behavior, and adorable little gestures, Naavah seemed to be different from all the ladies described in those stories. Thus, he hoped that she would truly be different from those women.

The ceremony began, and the priest’s words could be heard in the quiet ballroom by every person present. It was common among all people, despite their social rank, to listen to the sermon of the priest, and although many wanted to comment on Naavah’s dress or Fyodor’s attitude, they did not have the courage. After the vows, the crowd started clapping and saying good things about the couple. Everyone thought the couple looked good together, and people always liked to make up stories and gossip about other people’s lives, especially when they had little or no information at all about those involved. Knowing this, both Fyodor and Dargan tried to pre-arrange a small wedding in an attempt to avoid unnecessary chit-chats. However, there were nobles, marquises, and dukes that the Grand Duke, Fyodor’s father, wanted and vehemently requested to be invited to the ceremony. Therefore, Dargan took the responsibility of scrutinizing each person and their words.

When the priest left the altar, the Duke and Duchess of Wintkrim were to remain for greetings and gifts from all the guests. Naavah clutched the bouquet of white roses in her hand, trying to comfort herself, although she wanted to run and hide from the eyes of strangers. The Wintkrim family was well known throughout the empire, so everyone was eager to meet the Duke’s wife. Even though only a few received invitations to the great event, the number of people present was impressive. It was hard to view everyone in the large room, so it was impossible to see the disgruntled, frowning man in the back. His eyes were always, only, fixed on the bride, watching her every move, examining each of her features to better memorize every detail. He took a few imperceptible steps in Naavah’s direction and tilted his head, staring at her with wide and focused eyes. His senses were disturbed by no other noises except her voice. Not before he felt he had had enough of her, he vanished from the crowd, unnoticed.

At one point, Naavah felt like fainting due to pressure, and held her husband’s arm tighter. She wanted to continue with the greetings and gifts, but sensing that something was wrong, Fyodor nudged her and indicated a secluded spot with his eyes. He then excused himself and led her to a large wooden bench in the small garden from the back of the manor, thinking that her sickness was not completely cured.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, brushing the barely visible dust off the bench before letting her sit.

She hesitated, not knowing how to respond. She was sure that he had already foreseen this and, at the same time, did not want to make him worry. Moreover, she thought that her dizziness was inconvenient for Fyodor and their guests, even though he did not say it out loud out of respect.

“I am a little dizzy. But I will be fine, don’t worry! It happens to me sometimes.”

Smiling slightly, Fyodor clasped his hands behind his back. It seemed to him that Naavah was trying to downplay her own health, and there were two reasons for that: either she didn’t feel sick at all, or she wanted him to ignore it. The latest was more likely, in his opinion.

“Don’t worry! These things can happen to anyone, especially to a bride on her wedding day. I know women who have even fainted while dancing or taking their vows. Besides, it is our wedding, and we are the only ones who should feel good and happy. And I am happy.”

Glancing at him, Naavah could see joy and delight, both directed at her. Maybe this marriage will be a good one, or maybe it will be a failure. Either way, they were married now, and the wedding had to go on.

He returned to the guests, giving her a few more minutes to calm down. Standing still on the bench, she encouraged herself to go to her husband's side. Yet, uncertainty began to spread in her mind. Will she be punished by him for this moment, like her uncle always did when facing bothersome situations because of her? Or will Fyodor be able to forgive her weakness?

“But the look in his eyes…” she thought, seeing his figure clearly before her eyes.

She smiled slightly.

Snowyflakes

• I didn't wanted to focus so much on the wedding, the ceremony or anything related of its details (e.g., color of the carpet, the vessels, napkins, invitations and so on) because it's not so relevant for the story.

• Feel free to leave a comment with your opinion about this chapter if you want. I would like to read your thoughts. Also, this helps me improving.