Chapter 7: The Shame of a Markless Queen

"My King, we weren’t expecting to see you till tonight," Xavier started, slightly bowing as he let go of Hazel’s hand.

King Conan cracked his neck, looking past his Beta. They had spent the entire night driving, or more accurately—over-speeding—just so he could see the woman he had taken from Tideclaw.

"Hello Xavier. I grew impatient, I suppose."

Conan stared at his bride.

She had been properly cleaned up now, and some color had returned to her lips, and her entire face. She was clad in a simple but gorgeous wedding dress that enunciated every curve her pathetic previous outfit had concealed.

Hmm.

She wasn’t unpleasant to the eyes.

But that smell....

Hazel immediately lowered her head in reverence.

"Greetings, my king. I assume your trip here was—"

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that?"

Hazel flinched, slowly lifting her head. Is he upset? She couldn’t tell. His face looked expressionless.

"Oh yes. Forgive me, it won’t happen again," She whispered, feeling fear nearly paralyse her. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon, especially since he had said he had some ’business’ to attend to.

She wanted to ask if he had gone back to kill her father, but decided against it.

I’ll ask when the time is right.

Conan said nothing else, his eyes locking on Becky immediately. His face then broke into a small smile.

"Cousin, you came."

Hazel’s thoughts scattered like startled birds.

Cousin?! This strange silver-haired extroverted woman was the king’s cousin?!

Becky snickered. "Of course I did. I knew the poor woman who was to marry you would need some serious help." She strode forward, delivering a small punch to Conan’s shoulder.

"Yeah whatever," he rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling before facing Xavier. "I hope she was taken care of as I instructed?"

The Beta nodded. "Yes. Doctor Ivana took care of her wounds. But there was a slight problem," Xavier’s voice lowered. He took a closer step to Conan, who had a brow raised.

"Your mother was in the palace."

What?

Conan replayed the sentence in his mind, hoping it had been nothing but a lie. But he knew it wasn’t.

The King stiffened, and Becky patted his back.

"How about you go back to preparing for your wedding? It’s bad luck to see the bride before it’s time, you know," she offered, attempting to get Conan’s mind off it.

Conan stared incredulously at Becky before he sorted. "I’m not that superstitious, but whatever. I’ll see you tonight, alright?" The question was directed at Hazel this time, who immediately nodded her head frantically.

Conan let his gaze drag across her, one long, unhurried inventory, then turned and walked away without a word.

~

"Are you ready?"

Was she ready?

Hazel held a small bouquet of white flowers, the scent doing a wonderful job of calming her nerves.

Time had travelled rather quickly, and now she stood in what she assumed to be a chapel due to the massive cross carved into the entrance wall.

People were walking in, all engaged in conversations with each other. She had expected this, the amount of people. Afterall, the King of Lycans was getting married. Still, she had underestimated the density of guests.

After Conan’s strange visit to see her, Xavier had purchased the wedding dress, immediately taking her to a strange place with appliances Becky had mentioned were for ’hair-making’.

Now, she looked out of her hiding spot, her heart beating in her chest like a drum.

"I don’t think so," she responded honestly to Becky, who gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I...." Becky started, gathering her words. The king’s cousin had also transformed, packing her hair into an elegant style and attired in a pretty wine gown. "I know this can not be easy. You were taken from your home to marry the King of Lycans, and as a markless, no less. I will do my best to protect you and ensure you adjust, I swear it, Hazel. I have never believed in the foolish segregation of Omegas, and I want you to know your scent matters little to me. Alright?"

Hazel felt her eyes tear up but Becky immediately scolded her.

"No crying!" She whispered. "You’ll ruin your make-up."

A chuckle left Hazel’s lips, and her face remained in a smile as she stared at Becky.

"Thank you, Becky. I am eternally grateful for your kindness to me,"

Becky winked at her before lodging her hand with Hazel’s.

"Don’t mention it. Now let’s get married!"

~

The aisle stretched before Hazel like an endless river of red carpet, flanked by rows upon rows of guests in their finest attire. Candles flickered along the walls, and above her, a massive stained-glass window depicted the Scorpio constellation in brilliant shades of crimson and gold.

But Hazel barely saw any of it.

Her eyes were fixed on the man at the altar.

Conan Valerius Black.

He looked.....different.

His jet-black hair was slicked back, away from his face. He wore a fitted black coat with silver embroidery along the collar, and a simple silver circlet rested on his brow, the mark of his kingship.

His face was also completely blank.

No smile. No warmth. Just his dark almond-shaped eyes watching her approach with a seriousness that made her knees go weak.

Behind him stood Xavier, who was also dressed to impress. He gave Hazel the tiniest nod of encouragement, so small she almost missed it.

Hazel swallowed hard, clutching her bouquet like a lifeline. She could feel every single pair of eyes in that room boring into her.

Keep walking. Just keep walking.

But then the whispers started.

"I can’t believe the King would lower himself..."

"What is that smell? Do you smell it?"

"It’s her. It has to be. She reeks of—"

"Markless? The scandal!"

Hazel’s steps faltered. To be the center of this number of people’s—

Becky, who had been walking behind her, stylishly moved forward, tightening her hand around Hazel’s and grounding her.

"Eyes forward, girl," Becky whispered.

Right. Just focus.

Hazel inhaled sharply, lifted her chin, and kept walking.

She didn’t look left. Didn’t look right. She kept her eyes locked on Conan, even though his blank expression made her stomach churn with uncertainty.

Just reach him. One step at a time.

Finally she reached the altar.

The music faded, and silence descended.

Conan spoke in a whisper to her.

"Come closer."

Hazel blinked, freezing temporarily. Oh. Right. She was standing too far. She shuffled forward, just a few steps, until she stood directly before him.

The king loomed over her like a mountain, and she could see the faint pulse in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched at his sides. Was he nervous? Angry? Impatient?

She had no idea.

Their eyes met again.

Then the officiant stepped forward, a tall, silver-haired man draped in ceremonial robes, and raised his hands.

"We have come to witness the sacred union of the Scorpio Celestial Line and the Gemini Celestial Line," he proclaimed. "King Conan Black of Bloodmoon, and Hazel Lockwood of Tideclaw. If any among you has cause to object, speak now, or forever keep your peace."

Hazel’s breath caught.

Please no. Please let no one—

She quickly scanned the crowd.

No Rosie. No Aurora.

Thank goodness.

The officiant paused, still waiting for anyone to object.

Just as Hazel felt her shoulders start to relax, a chair scraped against the floor.

Every head turned.

Hazel’s heart plummeted to her stomach.

From the middle of the crowd, a man rose to his feet. He had snowy white hair, and deep-set eyes that burned with thinly veiled rage. He wore robes of deep blue and gold, and a heavy medallion hung around his neck, the symbol of the Cancer Celestial Line.

Oh no.

"What is the meaning of this?" the man roared, his voice cracking through the chapel. "You are marrying a markless Omega? When our daughters, our worthy daughters, have been offered to you time and time again? Are you even certain the Alpha of Tideclaw didn’t trick you into marrying a mere servant? There is no way the daughter of an Alpha is a mere Omega!"

Murmurs erupted throughout the crowd, and Conan’s black and bottomless eyes slowly drifted to the man.

"Alpha Rowan Hawthorne of Moonshade Pack," Conan said, keeping his voice level. "I was not aware you had an invitation."

The white-haired man scoffed, stepping out into the aisle. "I do not need an invitation to witness an atrocity, boy. I came to see if the rumors were true, if the King of Lycans had truly lost his mind."

Conan’s expression didn’t change. Not one muscle.

"Are you questioning me?" he asked softly.

Alpha Rowan laughed before he spat on the floor, right there in the middle of the aisle.

"I do more than question," Rowan snarled. "I curse you, Conan Valerius Black. I curse this union. May your marriage bear no fruit. May your line wither. May you know the shame of a markless queen and—"

The words died in his throat.

Because Conan moved.