The silence inside the banquet hall stretched. It thickened with every passing heartbeat. Hundreds of eyes remained fixed on Sonia Woodland.
The High Priestess waited.
Her knife rested loosely between her fingers, the thin blade catching the glow of the chandeliers. The silver basin beside her reflected flickers of candlelight that trembled across the polished floor.
Still, Sonia did not speak.
Across the hall, Lady Bianca's hands trembled against the edge of the table. Her fingers pressed hard into the wood. Her eyes never left her daughter. "Why is it taking her too long to reply?" she whispered under her breath.
A nervous breath escaped her lips. "Is she planning on disgracing me?"
The council began to murmur. "What is going on?" some said. "Why did she suddenly go dump?"
"The girl looks unhappy," a woman observes. "I am sure she doesn't want the prince."
Ryli stood. The suspended and the murmur was suffocating him. "What are you doing, Sonia?" he whispered. "Are you trying to humiliate me in the presence of the Nine Kingdoms?"
Sonia didn't respond. Her silence lingered on.
Beside Sonia, Edmond Woodland slowly lifted his head. His gaze settled on his daughter. For a moment the noise of the hall seemed to fade from Sonia's ears.
Her father's eyes held her. There was no warmth there. No comfort. Only command.
Sonia knew that look. She had seen it before, many times while growing up in the cold stone halls of the North. It was the look Edmond wore when decisions had already been made. When disobedience will be rewarded with brutal consequences.
When mercy had no place.
His expression told her everything he intended to do if she refused the alliance.
The muscles in Sonia's chest tightened. Her fingers trembled slightly in her lap.
Every voice inside her screamed the same answer:
"Say no."
Her lips parted slightly. The word almost formed. But another thought rose quickly behind it.
You are a cripple.
The reminder struck her like cold water. Her eyes flickered briefly toward the crowd. So many faces. So many lords. So many strangers.
You need my family. Without them, you will suffer.
Her breathing slowed as the realization settled deeper. If she lost them, If they abandoned her.
"If they abandon me, I am done for," She reminded herself.
The hall seemed colder suddenly. The weight of the moment pressed down on her chest.
Slowly she turned her head toward the High Priestess. The old woman's calm gaze met hers.
Sonia forced her lips upward. The smile felt stiff and unnatural. "Yes," she said quietly.
Then she spoke the final words. "Yes, I do."
A wave of breath escaped the hall. Almost everyone, including the king, exhaled sharply at once. The tension that had gripped the room loosened instantly.
Bianca pressed a hand against her chest. Her shoulders dropped as relief flooded her face.
Edmond Woodland smiled faintly.
Across from Sonia, Prince Ryli clenched his fist in silent celebration.
The High Priestess did not waste another moment. She reached forward and took Sonia's hand firmly.
The blade flashed.
A sharp sting burst across Sonia's palm. The small knife had already sliced a thin line through her skin.
Blood welled immediately. Warm, and bright red.
Sonia did not react. Her face remained still.
The priestess turned to Ryli. His palm still bore the cut she had made earlier. Blood glistened along the line.
The priestess brought their hands together. Ryli's cut palm pressed firmly against Sonia's bleeding one. Their blood mixed instantly.
Dark red spreading across both hands.
A servant stepped forward quickly. From the basin he lifted a strip of white cloth. The priestess wrapped the cloth around their joined hands.
Tight.
The knot pulled their palms firmly together. Blood soaked slowly into the fabric.
"Repeat after me," the High Priestess said.
But Sonia and Ryli did not speak yet. Both of them were staring at her. The priestess lifted her voice so the entire hall could hear.
"In the name of Ago, god of fire, and sun. and Odin, god of the Norsemen," she began.
"I swear myself to you."
Ryli spoke first. His voice carried clearly through the hall. "In the name of Ago, god of fire and sun, and Odin, god of the Norsemen, I swear myself to you."
Sonia repeated the words quietly. Her voice sounded distant even to herself.
The priestess continued. "To marry you when you are of age."
They repeated it.
"And give my body to you forever."
Again they echoed the line.
The final words had barely left their mouths when the hall exploded. Thunderous applause crashed across the chamber.
Goblets rose high into the air. Wine splashed across tables. Nobles shouted congratulations.
Servants rushed forward to refill cups as laughter and cheers filled the hall.
The alliance had been sealed. Sonia's hand remained tied to Ryli's. The white cloth binding them together slowly darkened as their blood soaked deeper into the fabric.
Ryli turned slightly toward her. But Sonia refused to meet his eyes. Her gaze drifted somewhere beyond the crowd. Her face remained still.
But the sadness was written plainly across it. Anyone who cared to look would see it. Yet no one did.
The lords laughed. Wine flowed freely.
To them, the ceremony had achieved exactly what it needed to achieve.
An alliance between two powerful houses. The happiness of the children involved mattered little beside that.
At the royal platform, King Robert watched the celebration quietly. His goblet remained untouched.
Something had caught his attention. His eyes moved slowly across the hall. Then he noticed them. The Northerners.
They sat together along the left side of the banquet tables. Their cloaks of grey and dark fur stood out among the silk and velvet of the southern lords.
But it was not their clothing that caught Robert's eye. It was their hands. None of them held goblets. Their arms rested calmly against their sides.
But beneath the folds of their sleeves, the shapes were clear.
Swords, short blades, and daggers.
Hidden, yet visible enough to anyone watching closely. Not one of them drank. Not one of them laughed.
They sat quietly: alert.
Robert's brows furrowed slightly. He leaned toward Edmond Woodland. "This is an engagement," Robert said quietly. "A place of sacred vows."
His eyes drifted back toward the Northern warriors. "Why are your men holding swords and not drinking?"
Edmond lowered his head respectfully. "I am sorry, Your Grace." His voice remained calm. "But since the Red Wedding of Ashford…"
A faint silence seemed to pass between them as the memory of that event surfaced. "Northerners no longer get drunk at weddings," Edmond continued. "And they now attend with their blades for protection."
Robert leaned back slightly in his seat. His expression remained uneasy. "No king would be happy seeing blades in his banquet."
Edmond nodded slowly. "I understand, Your Grace." He turned slightly toward the northern tables. "I will instruct them to step backward."
His gaze returned to Robert. "I can assure you they will do no violence."
Robert studied him for a moment. The music continued playing around them. Nobles laughed loudly at the tables. Wine spilled freely across the hall. But Robert still felt the tension.
At last he nodded. He trusted Edmond Woodland. The Warden of the North had never betrayed him before.
Still, the sight of hidden steel among celebrating guests left a faint discomfort lingering in his chest.
The feast continued long into the evening. Music filled the chamber. Servants brought roasted meats, fruits, and sweet wine.
Lords toasted the future king and queen again and again. But Sonia remained silent through it all.
Eventually the priestess returned and loosened the white cloth binding her hand to Ryli's.
The fabric peeled away slowly from their palms. The blood had already begun to dry. The connection was broken. But the oath remained.
Servants wheeled Sonia away from the center of the hall. Edmond walked beside her. The cheering and music faded behind them as they left the banquet chamber.
The corridors of the palace felt strangely quiet after the roaring celebration.
Sonia stared forward as the wheels rolled across the stone floor. Her hands rested weakly in her lap. Her palm still throbbed faintly from the cut. She did not look back. She did not speak.
Her chamber door opened. Servants pushed her inside. The door closed behind her with a dull thud.
The silence returned.
Sonia sat there for a long moment. Then a quiet thought slipped through her mind.
I got engaged.
Her eyes drifted toward the dark window beside her bed. The city lights flickered far below. Yet the thought felt hollow, and heavy.
I got engaged…
Her fingers tightened slightly against the arms of the chair.
Yet it feels as if I have been sold into slavery.