The Fake Bride

Trinity lay on her back late at night, fully awake. She couldn’t sleep; she kept tossing and turning on this large bed, which felt unfamiliar to every touch of her skin. Since Lord Detles was a noble, he could, undoubtedly, afford such luxury. She couldn’t complain about the soft bed or the feather-stuffed pillows, but they were foreign to her. She was used to the feel of her parched mattress that she had slept on for years even if they weren’t of the finest quality. She could fall asleep easily in the comfort of her small room. Here, alone, in a spacious room with expensive furniture, she missed home dearly.

She sat up, shoving the cover away. The transparent glass window that spanned the entire height of the wall gave her a full view of the night sky. It was dark, well past midnight, and the crescent moon offered little light to the stars nearby. Without those twinkling star lights that always warm her heart, the lone sickle-shaped moon was an ominous enigma.

She got out of bed and went for the door. It groaned raucously under the weight of her hand. Trinity peeked out from the narrow gap, turning in both directions to inspect her surroundings. Nothing but a dark hallway lit weakly by lamps set at intervals, and beyond those was more of the blackness.

Trinity carefully shut the door and tip-toed across the floor, suppressing as much noise her slipper made as she could. Feeling like a stray animal, blind in the dark, she placed her hand on one wall so she could be sure of her footings. She needed some fresh air. There was an oppressing feeling suffocation her, and the large mansion wasn’t the only cause. Trinity licked her lips, realizing how dry her throat was.

The kitchen, she remembered, was next to the dining room. It wasn’t far from the quarter where her room was. At the end of the corridor, the path was branched into two directions. The one on the right led to the supposed kitchen. The one on the left, however, drew her attention. A few steps down, a door was slightly ajar, a sliver escaping through the breach. At this time of the night, who could possibly still be awake? Trinity paused, wondering if she should approach it.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she headed toward the source furtively. Surreptitiously, she poked her head in, just far enough so her eyes could see. At first, all she could see was a table and an antique couch—the dimness was hard on her eyes. Squinting, she looked farther at the area obstructed by the door she was clinging to. In the armchair, Lord Detles sat cross-legged, deep in thought, a glass of wine in his hand. He was still as a statue. She wondered what he was thinking, drinking at this hour…

Trinity shook her head disapprovingly, and turned to leave, only to stop before she even lifted another step forward. “Don’t you know peeping is a bad hobby?” She could hear a laugh in his voice.

Trinity muttered a curse. She couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see her, but she knew he had a despicable smirk on his face right at that moment. A few second passed before she appeared at the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back.

“I was about to leave,” she defended herself while avoided looking at him.
In her peripheral vision, she sensed his smirk pulling farther, reaching his equally impish eyes. “Why leave now? You couldn’t sleep and wandered about, are you not?” he said. “Were you, perhaps, seeking my company?”

Trinity blushed, more enraged than anything. How could he assume such a vulgar thing? How dared he jest about her chastity?

She glared at him, and hoped that, somehow, her gaze could burn him with shame that he had brought upon himself. There was no such emotion that came across his face, only pure glee at her expense.

“Excuse me?” she asked, disbelieved. “What made you think that? Perhaps I’m not being clear, but I am not the kind of girl who fawns over you because of your looks and wealth! I have no reason to subject myself to your whims!”

“ Oh? Really? How do you explain your choice of garments tonight?” He pointed his finger at her, his face as sly as a fox.

She peered down to look at her white nightgown, which flowed down to her feet like a full dress. There was nothing wrong with the way she dressed. If anything, it the dress was more on the old-fashioned side. Until she saw what he was hinting at—the neckline had stretched down and slightly showed her cleavage. Her blush was now a shade darker as she hastily tugged at it, her hands over her bosom protectively. That only made him chuckled.

“How easy it is to make you feel embarrassed,” he remarked. “Young girls these days flaunt themselves like, well…I wouldn’t dare say in the presence of a lady.”

“What are you saying?” she said harshly. His beating around the bush was getting on her nerves.

“What I’m saying is you are a Saint, Lady of all things Chaste,” he rambled in a knowing, yet sarcastic voice. “For all I know, you were born to a nun in a convent somewhere in the mountain.”

Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe the temerity. His mind was as…corrupted as his mouth. “That’s blasphemous, My Lord.”

He merely shrugged. “Doesn’t stop me from speaking my mind,” he said; then his tone changed with the next words. “Come, sit down next to me.”

Trinity stared at him dubiously. Something on her face must have told him of her wariness. “Don’t look at me like I’m a wolf. Despite everything, I don’t attack girls against their will, so come.”

Something in his voice made her stay, eased her spite toward him. Was it her imagination, or was his voice suddenly sounded kind? “Do you swear? You will be the perfect gentleman?”

Lord Detles, it seemed, was the next person to have a shock coming. “Do I have to now?” he whined, stretching hands to the side as a gesture of doubt.

Trinity nodded adamantly. “Yes, you do.” She was whole-heartedly serious. His eyes widened, and then he cracked a smile that was more genuine than anything she had seen from him.

“Yes, I swear in the names of my father, and his father, and his father’s father before that. Are you happy now?”

Raising an eyebrow, she considered him one more time. She decided it wouldn’t hurt. He couldn’t be that bad of a man if he was closed to Earl Parlem. Besides, he looked…lonely sitting in the armchair all by himself.

She crossed the room to the long couch, next to his satin armchair. Trinity straightened her back, her hands folded over in her lap. It was a tense silent afterward…

“Must you sit all the way over there?” True…she had the whole couch to herself, but she had chosen the other end that was far from the lord—not next to him, or the middle—because she wasn’t taking any chances. She nodded.

“Fine, suit yourself.” He conceded. “Make yourself comfortable.”

While he took another taste of his drink, Trinity glanced around. The faint light from before, she realized, originated from the grand fireplace in the corner, its hearth flickering with a weak flame. Decorating the walls were various paintings of people she did not recognize, sceneries of seasons, and plain objects like a basket of apples or a boat in a bottle.

“You weren’t able to sleep?” he said, pulling her out of her awe.

“No.”

“Hmm…Neither did I,” he admitted. “I wonder if our case of insomnia is rooted from the same cause.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I know you, even though we our first meeting was at the ball,” he began, diverting the conversation into a different direction all together. “The princess and Damon are very fond of you. They spoke about you all the time that I had to doubt where their affection lay.” The young lord laughed wryly.

“How…I don’t understand your meaning, My Lord.”

“You, Trinity, are exactly as they described you. No, you are slightly more.”

“…”

“I think they underestimate you. You are more fierce than they gave you credit for.”

Should she be proud or offended at his observation? Is he even sober?

“Trust my words, miss. I know the depth of your loyalty. I do wonder, however, how far you will go.” He set aside his wine and pierced through her defense with one fixed look. “What will you do?”

His words hung in the air, and for a long time, she was frozen with shock. It was a reminiscent of the event that felt like ages ago—the night the old gypsy woman had foretold her future, foretold the destiny that had inexplicably thrown at the princess. Those words echoed like a constant reminder of her powerlessness and pained her every time.

What will you do?

The surge of sadness in her had nowhere to escape, so it poured out as rage at the lord whose fault was being the immediate one near her. Clenching her fists, her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress.

“I can’t do anything,” she chided. “You don’t have to remind me that. I know I’m incapable. If I could trade place with the princess, do you think I wouldn’t? I would exchange my life if I had to!”

For a while, he contemplated. There was no mockery in his expression. “I realize you would do just that, but to be honest, you can’t pull it off. You cannot compare to a princess who had been thoroughly groomed since birth—at least, not yet.”

Trinity furrowed her brows at him. “Have you called me here to insult me?” Though, it is true.

“Not at all. I am merely curious,” he said innocuously. “Besides, knowing my dear cousin, he will be running here any seconds now.”

His unfazed confidence took her aback. How he could say that even as a joke, she didn’t know. If the earl had wanted to, he would had done it when she was searching for him in the crowd this morning. He was not coming!

“Don’t say something so irresponsible to the princess,” she reprimanded. “She will not appreciate it.”

“You’ll see. If he doesn’t come, I will personally skin him alive for keeping me up this late!”

“Wait…do you mean—”

“Yes, yes,” he interjected as if reading her mind. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than staying up late at night?”

“Then—” this time her sentence was interrupted by a sudden burst of noise echoing from afar. Her ears, as well as the lord’s, perked up, listening. The noise, a series of frantic banging on the door, grew louder this time around. Lord Detles stood up then, smiling with certain triumph as if he had won a bet.

“Would you look at that? The culprit himself has answered my call.”

Before Trinity could even show her confusion, the lord pranced out the room, turning back only once more. “Stay here. It won’t be long.”

And he was gone, leaving her shrouded in the faint light that seemed to have lurked into her own mind. For a while, she sat, unmoved, listening to the sound of his heels clapped against the floor, then disappeared all together. Could his words have been true? Who is he receiving at this time of night? I couldn’t be…could it? But what if he hadn’t been wrong? What if…?

Restless, she approached the window, staring at the empty darkness below. She could barely make out the silhouette of anything. But when the front door opened, a stroke of light fell on a shape that, undoubted, was a man. Her heart quickened; she stumbled back. Trinity began pacing the room. A man? Could it be?

Soft footsteps soon returned, making her more nervous as it became clearer and nearer. She could hear muted voices, exchanging back and forth, but the conversation was inaudible to her. When she could no longer hold her patience, she printed to the door, just as Lord Detles appeared before her. She stopped before she could collide into him. His face was surprised—either from the shock of seeing her or the anticipation written on her face.

He smiled, as if reassuring her good news. “Put your heart at ease.” He stepped into the room, and with him out of view, she could see him—Earl Parlem, breathing heavily as if he had ran all the way here on foot. In the mid of the exultation and astonishment and the other emotions that swirled in her head, she barely heard what Lord Detles’ said next.

All she saw was the earl, and all she heard was what he said next, “Good evening, Trinity. I hope my presence is not an inconvenience.”