Seeing him this way made me forget my own anxiety and I focused on nothing else but extinguishing the torment tearing him apart. The torment that hissed its accusations at him—how everything he’d done to keep me safe and out of harm’s way, all the pretences and careful measures taken—had been utterly useless from the very first day I entered Townsend Manor.
It had been all over the moment John saw me and realized what he wanted, and nothing could have changed that—no matter the elaborateness or the strength of the defenses built up around me by William’s diligence. John wanted me—and there was nothing, or no one, that could stop him.
Another wince shuddered through William as the evil inner voices continued their onslaught. I couldn’t stand to see the pain anymore. I didn’t care if we were found out, if I let my feelings be known for him, and his for me. What did it matter now anyways? There was nothing else besides the pain of the man I loved in front of me, and my basic need to make it right.
I slid my chair back while keeping my eyes on him, when Draco—at the center of the seven men—thundered, “Ladies and Gentlemen.”
The room became silent and all eyes shifted to the Chancellor . . . all eyes except for two sets.
“Welcome to the Betrothal Ball. I’d like to personally thank John for hosting tonight’s event and for the lavish hospitality we’ve all been met with.” Draco raised a glass filled with champagne at John. “And I’d like to propose a toast to tonight’s upcoming Betrothals. The Council, as always, has put a great deal of thought and consideration into tonight’s promises of Unity, and I’m sure you will all be pleased with the announced Betrothals.”
I noticed John stand taller (if that was possible) at this, but my eyes were not going to leave William’s.
“And as always,” he spoke with great heaviness and conviction, “what the Council wills, may no one challenge.”
He raised his glass again, and everyone else followed in suit (everyone again except for William and me). Draco shouted out, “Cheers!” and then lifted the glass to his lips.
The resounding chorus of cheers didn’t shake my stare, nor did the seven men across from me who took their seats in an air of tradition. I hadn’t noticed anyone besides William, until the person standing to his left—separating him and John—placed his hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper something to him.
Whatever he’d said to his older brother had been persuasive enough for William to remove his gaze from me, and to partially reassemble the mask of indifference on his face.
My eyes drifted away from him after his left mine, as I was able to find the serenity from within I needed to keep from falling apart, but not before John could notice my emotion-filled stare.
His eyes flickered over to where William and Patrick sat, watching them with curious interest for a few moments, until obviously content they were paying me no attention, his gaze drifted back to me. The anticipation in them was not as constrained as it had been before. His eyes now pulsed with it, making no attempt at disguising the longings that ignited them.
Once the seven Councilmen seated themselves, the remaining guests sat in one loud eminent sounding thud, followed by the screeching slide of hundreds of chairs positioning forward.
I hardly noticed the following fanfare brought out by the dozens of servers. I think there was some kind of a salad, followed by a soup, and then some kind of fancy looking appetizer hidden within the shell of a crustacean; but none of it held any interest to me. I didn’t touch a bite of it.
I didn’t touch the crystal glasses in front of me, colored with the light purplish red of fine pinot noir, or the gold-tinged effervescent yellow of the champagne; and while the goblet of water might have superficially extinguished the flames that scalded my throat, I couldn’t muster up the strength to reach for the glass and lift it to my lips.
My body felt utterly spent and held no desire to expend unneeded energy unless that energy was focused on William, and given the company surrounding us and Patrick’s careful stares shifting between the two of us, there was no immediate future of being with him.
The main course was served, and while I hadn’t paid attention to John’s silence throughout the meal, I jolted when his voice broke through the buzz of dulled echoes.
“Is the food not to your liking this evening?” he questioned, eyeing over my untouched meal.
I was ever conscious of the brooding man two seats down and across from me, and as soon as John addressed me, I saw him thrust his seat back roughly. Patrick placed a firm hand on William’s shoulder, stalling him enough so he could whisper something to him.
“It’s fine, thank you,” I said flatly. “I’m not very hungry I guess.”
My answer seemed to appease John, for he went back to massacring the bleeding flank of meat on his plate, but not before blessing me with another one of his impure looks.
My eyes left John and scanned over the surrounding guests, quite sure William’s nearly explosive exchange had not gone unnoticed, but to my great relief, no one paid any special attention to the two Hayward brothers. I could only imagine the agony ripping William apart being so close to me, yet unable to protect me—to save me from the imposing edict.
If only I could get away from the careful eyes of those around us. I was sure William would follow and then we could escape together. Before my very soul and the rest of my eternity was tied to the man who sat grinning malevolently before me—to a man I wouldn’t want to spend thirty seconds alone with in an elevator, let alone all that came with the relationship of a husband and wife for the millennia to come.
A sheer piece of fabric whipping in the wind caught my attention. It was one of the sheer panels adorning the French doors . . . the open French doors that led outside and away from this doomed event.
A moment before I opened my mouth to excuse myself for a breath of fresh air, Draco stood ceremoniously, confirming I was too late to make an escape now. He sealed my fate with the clearing of his throat and the slow smile that spread across his lips. I could hear the heavy metal door slamming shut and the vault lever locking my dreams and love away forever. Hope left me that moment, and I slumped forward in my seat, looking down at my clasped hands that trembled in my lap.
“This is it, Bryn,” a female voice purred to my left, followed by her grabbing one of my hands in hers.
I hadn’t noticed there was anyone seated to my left, let alone who it was, so I was surprised to find Stella glowing beside me. Her level, cool demeanor was no longer present, and beside me sat a gushing, nearly exuberant woman. If only she knew I was the reason her hopes for becoming John’s blushing bride would never come to fruition, I’m sure her hand wouldn’t still be holding mine . . . or maybe she would have left it there and crushed every bone instead. Either would have been preferred to the awkward enthusiasm she was sharing with me now.
“They’re going to make the announcement of the Betrothals and then the orchestra will immediately break into the Ballad of the Betrothed,” she whispered with overwhelming emotion.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention again,” Draco commenced, beginning the journey to sealing away my heart. I didn’t care about anyone seeing, so I turned my eyes to the man destiny was carrying me away from with every passing second, and let them fill with everything I couldn’t speak out loud.
“The time has come to reveal the very reason we’ve all gathered here tonight—the time to announce the Betrothals.”
I listened to Draco’s damning speech with one ear, and with everything else I gave to William. His eyes closed for a moment and he let out a heavy sign, as if admitting what was coming at us before he lifted his eyes to mine, and then held them there with the same intensity of emotion radiating in mine.
“If you will, Gentlemen.” The six men surrounding him stood formally and silently. Draco drew a thick piece of parchment from the inside pocket of his tuxedo, unfolded it, and prepared to read the binding commitments.
I didn’t notice if John was watching the intimate exchange between William and me, or if Stella had pulled herself from her self-absorbed shell to notice anything happening around her, and I didn’t care about either. I didn’t care about anything but this last private moment William and I would ever have.
He smiled warmly, and there was no longer any hint of the anguish or anger that had contorted his face earlier. Like me, he was not allowing anything to ruin our last moments where we still belonged to one another and no one else.
As if to remind everyone for something no one needed to be reminded of (for I’m sure every Immortal in this room was aware of the severe penalty for breaking the sacred ties the Council ordered), Draco re-quoted one of the most revered of Immortal proverbs, “What the Council wills, may no Immortal or Mortal break.” He let a minute pass before continuing, letting the significance of the proverb settle amongst the crowd.
“The first of the five Betrothals we will be announcing tonight goes to . . .”
I didn’t listen anymore, I didn’t need to. I knew he would save John’s name for last; like some sort of grand finale.
I heard the congratulatory murmurs and hoots from the crowd as Draco announced the couples. Everyone seemed to be excited and an air of celebration flowed around us.
It felt more like a funeral to me—my own funeral. My soul would soon be placed in the dark confines of a wooden coffin, the rusty nails sealing it with finality. There were only seconds until the final nail was pounded in.
Without thinking, I mouthed, “I love you,” to the man still staring at me with a fondness that took my breath away.
His smile spread and he whispered back, “Forever.”
I nodded my head in one final bit of bravery, confirming my reciprocation of his vow to me. I would love him forever, regardless of us spending our lives apart.
I could almost feel the final nail being positioned against the wood top of my coffin.
“And finally, a man very important to all of us.” Draco motioned to the man that stood at the right far end of the standing Councilmen. “Mr. John Townsend is hereby and forever Betrothed to Miss . . .”
Several gentle taps of the hammer on the nail-head, driving it in the hard wood enough so it would stand on its own, righting itself for the final, condemning pound . . .
“Miss Bryn Dawson.”
A thunderous pound. The nail driven into its final resting place—my soul forever dead, damned, and sealed away.
There were several separate and succinct reactions that took place around the final announced couple. The one I was most attuned to was William’s face breaking, his eyes falling into pits of despair, perhaps never to look into mine with the same adoration they had just moments ago. His agony would have killed me where I sat had death been attainable.
There was Stella, whose hand urgently unwrapped itself from mine at the same moment she leaned as far back and away from me in her chair possible without actually falling off it. She muttered some sort of belligerent tirade, intertwined with carefully selected curse words, but I didn’t really hear a single thing she said.