Novel Full Chapter 413: Cruel, Cruel Wedding
Chapter 413: Cruel, Cruel Wedding
***
{Inside The Projection}
The Sultan’s Hall was packed wall to wall, heavy with the low hum of murmurs.
Every gold-plated pillar caught the candlelight, brightening the hall to an extreme, though its occupants didn’t seem to mind; every eye fixed on the Golden Throne at the far end.
An officiant stood before it, his spine straight as a spear.
“This night…”
His voice carried over the crowd.
“We stand here to celebrate our Lord’s union with a most precious Lady—an example of our Holy City’s achievement.”
He stroked his long grey beard—
***
{Outside The Projection}
“THAT’S MEEEEEEEEEE! EVERYONE! LOOK! IT’S ME! I’M FAMOUS! MOTHER, YOUR SON IS…”
Ignoring the once always serious, grey-bearded man, the hall continued to watch.
His new friend, the scar-faced lady, was embraced as all Hell, however.
So, before he could embarrass her any further, she—
“SHUT UP.”
Elbowed his kidney, nearly knocking him out.
***
{Inside The Projection}
With Azeem, Sinbad, and Dunya up front, the crowd shifted, many leaning forward eagerly.
The rest, however, looked away, mostly those in the back, obviously wanting to be anywhere else, having come here only to protect their lives.
“May this marriage be blessed by the True Sultan.”
The officiant declared, turning toward his Lord.
Malik, who stood off to his left, casting a long shadow even under the bright hall lamps, was dressed in pure white robes, a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders.
“Lord Malik, son of Old Cane…”
His eyes, gold and flat, were fixed on the officiant.
“Do you accept this woman as your wife, to protect her, honor her, and stand by her in the trials to come?”
Malik didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze flicked toward the opposite side of the dais—toward her.
Layla, standing still as stone, her white dress bright against the deep gold of the crown she held in her hands.
“I accept. By ’Them,’ the sky above and the sands beneath, I swear it.”
The officiant turned toward Layla.
“Lady Layla, daughter of Rehan, do you accept this man as your husband, to stand by him, to build with him, and to face whatever Fate has written together?”
Her eyes—those sharp purple eyes—met Malik’s for a fraction of a heartbeat.
“I accept.”
She gave him a stiff and very obviously practiced smile.
“By God, the Twelve Moons that guide and the abyss that nourishes, I swear it.”
The officiant nodded.
“Before all gathered here, before our ancestors and our children yet to come, before God and the Twelve Moons… you are bound.”
He looked back at Malik.
“My Lord. Remove your cloak. Cover your wife.”
Without a word, Malik unclasped the heavy garment and stepped forward.
The wool brushed against the marble floor as he moved and set it gently over Layla’s shoulders, the fabric swallowing her smaller frame, his eyes staying locked on hers the whole time.
“My Lady…”
The officiant then turned to Layla.
“Please crown your husband.”
It was a simple gesture, same as his, yet as she lifted the crown and set it onto his head, she felt something weightier than Fam Iblis itself… a promise made tangible.
“You may now celebrate.”
Those words set off a wave of noise.
“Long live the Sultan!”
“Blessed be Lord Malik!”
“Blessed be Lady Layla!”
“By the Twelve Moons, by the Abyss, by God!”
“Glory to the Sultan!”
“Glory to the Bride!”
“May their bond outlast stars!”
“God has bound them—may none unbind them!”
Cheers erupted so loud they seemed to claw at the ceiling.
Men stomped their feet in a drumbeat rhythm that made the floor shiver. Women, not to be overshadowed, ululated, hands raised, voices splitting the air into beautiful bursts.
This was the sound of celebration, and one might actually believe them to be true.
Yet they were not… No, it was all for show.
Malik glanced at them, the noise washing over him.
He could see Azeem, Sinbad, and Dunya joining them in their celebration despite knowing the truth, the truth that this was no more than a contract.
A pact made from necessity, not love.
Still… for that moment, the hall looked like it believed otherwise.
And they weren’t the only ones, as even Layla, the one directly responsible for this contract arrangement, was swept up in the celebratory mood, and despite the hate she undoubtedly held for Malik, she couldn’t help but reveal something of a smile.
Once, she would’ve loved to be married to him, dreaming about it as they went on their journey, but now… Here she was, standing before him, her dream coming to life, and yet she felt nothing but a bitter sadness.
Just how did it all come to this?
***
{Outside The Projection}
…Oh, how did it all come to this?
A young romance turned tragic.
The hall wasn’t ready for this, given absolutely no buildup, being thrown right before the conclusion.
Anything that a wife would have agonized over, the guests, seating arrangements, food, gifts, pictures, dress codes, and so on, was skipped over, too inconsequential to be remembered.
What a depressing wedding that was.
And yet… like the Layla of the past, the current Layla couldn’t help but smile.
The sight of herself standing there—white dress glowing under the lamps, crown in her hands, cloak heavy on her shoulders—struck her in a way she didn’t expect.
Layla hated that moment.
She hated what it stood for, hated the bargain she had walked into… the one her existence made true. That hall’s air became so thick with formality, she could barely breathe, and yet, buried under all that suffocation, there had been a strange sweetness.
Because, again, there he was. Malik. Standing close enough that she could hear the faint rustle of his clothes as he moved, close enough to feel the weight of his presence pressing into the space between them.
He had looked at her without blinking, as if he could see straight through every layer of silk and poise, down to the pulse in her throat.
It wasn’t love she felt, not at that moment, nor was it hope for a better future… It was something—something rare enough that she wanted to hold on to it even while it burned her.
Layla remembered exactly how heavy that crown had felt in her hands, and not because of its gold, but because of what it meant to place it on him.
Everything felt unreal, even the cheers that had roared around her.
None of it seemed real except the steady, silent figure in front of her.
Oh, truly, she regretted how that night went with every bone in her body.
And yet, in some unshakable corner of her heart, she wished she could stand in that moment again… be wed to him once more.
What a cruel, cruel beginning.
A cruel, cruel wedding.