Chapter Text
It had finally happened. After months of teeth grinding, thinly veiled threats, and fists slamming into tables, the peace had been finally established between all 13 clans, much to the fortune of every negotiator's mental health. Kongeda was united again under Commander Lexa's rule, and this time it would hopefully be stronger than ever.
The celebration of the treaty took place in the village and its nearby clearing which marked the border between three clans, Trikru, Louwoda Kliron and Azgeda. Tents had been put up with offerings from all the clans, whether it was delicacies, beautiful handmade accessories, curiosities of nature, or enormous barrels of wine whose taps were never closed for too long.
The middle of the clearing had been left open for dancers, and dance they did. The music and laughter had been continuing all night. But the one person who thought that the celebration could not end soon enough was, ironically, the very person who had worked the hardest for peace.
Marcus, even though he had the status of an honorary guest, a cup full of fine wine in his hand, and smiling Abby by his side, was unable to enjoy himself. One recurring incident kept bothering him endlessly and caused his mood to darken in a steady cycle. And it did not take long for the incident to happen again when Marcus guided Abby to a little stand which was filled beautiful flowers.
"Gon yu houmon," the woman behind the stand said, holding out a tiny flower to Marcus. For your wife.
Marcus internally groaned. Not again.
When the night had been young, Marcus had found it amusing that people kept mistaking Abby as his wife. He had simply laughed before correcting them, not sparing it a second thought. But as the night went on, and the number of people making the mistake grew, Marcus became more and more annoyed. The thought of them together, married even, was initially so comical just because of its pure absurdity, but the humor behind it was quickly lost when everyone seemed spout the same assumption from their mouths. Now it just stung.
Not because Marcus wished to be married to Abby. Definitely not.
Abby was his friend, a fact that for which he would be eternally grateful, and he couldn't let himself even consider anything beyond that. Not when it was hard to believe even that she was there, standing beside him, smiling one of her lovely smiles at him. He didn't want to mess this up.
But because outsiders kept presuming that Abby was his wife, Marcus was starting to feel self-conscious about the way he acted around her. During the feast he had never once left her side, nor had she insinuated that he should leave, but Marcus still felt guilty. He must have been doing something wrong. Maybe the look in his eyes had been too soft when he'd gazed at her, or perhaps he had accidentally touched her for too long or even looked at the men trying to talk to her in a funny way.
He knew that he didn't need to keep her company and perhaps he shouldn't, but he really didn't want to leave, and it made him feel selfish to his very core that he wanted to be near to her at any time. Just being with her made him happy and as he glances her way, Abby seems to be content as well, which he uses as a justification for staying.
"Em nou laik ai houmon, em laik ai lukot nou mo," he repeated for what had to be hundredth time. She's not my wife, she's just my friend.
The grounder woman just kept smiling and pushed the flower towards Marcus. He had no choice but to accept it before flashing the woman a stiff smile. He guided Abby away who seemed clueless to what had just happened, not understanding Trigedasleng and Marcus was definitely not going to tell her. It would most likely make her uncomfortable, and that was the last thing he wanted.
Marcus twisted the flower in his hands. It was so small, barely the size of his thumb. He noticed Abby's curious gaze as he examined it.
"Here." He presented it to her.
"For me?" Abby accepted the flower with a grateful smile. Marcus felt suddenly nervous about the implication of the gesture.
"From that woman," Marcus said quickly. "A sign of goodwill, I think."
"Ah." Abby brought the flower to her nose before taking a long sniff.
After smelling the flower she kept turning it in her hand, seemingly wondering what to do with the tiny thing. Marcus saw Abby slipping her wedding band from its familiar place until she could press the flower between the metal of the ring and her finger. An innocent act in her eyes, but Marcus felt like somebody had dumped a pile of burning coals on his head.
Abby lifted her head, smiling, and he returned her smile, but the moment her gaze turned away Marcus' face fell. The flower pressed between her finger and her ring was just a painful reminder of why things could never be more than friendly between them and that he had to find a way to stop people from assuming that they were together. He should never have Jake's place, even if it was simply in the minds of strangers.
While they walked around and observed the festivities, Marcus mulled over the incidents in his head and started to grow frustrated, angry even. At himself mostly, but also at the people daring to presume something about his and Abby's relationship. It was not like they behaved like an actual married couple, like Abby and Jake had done. She did not cling to his arm or give him one of her special smiles. Neither did Marcus occasionally entwine his fingers with hers or whisper something private to her. They only walked together, occasionally glancing each other and smiling. They didn't even brush fingers.
After realizing he had been staring at Abby's fingers for far too long while being immersed in these thoughts, he quickly diverted his gaze and became fascinated by the outfits of the celebrators.
A small child emerged from the press of the crowd. He ran blindly ahead and bumped into Abby's leg, letting out a tiny yelp. He ended up falling on his butt on the ground, and remaining there, sitting, utterly confused at the sudden barrier in his way.
The mother of the child followed along hurriedly. "I am so sorry," she said in English after noticing the Skaikru emblem on the cape around Abby's shoulders.
Abby smiled. "It's okay." She crouched down to the boy's level." What's your name?"
The boy did not say anything, probably not understanding a word of English. The woman lifted the child in her lap and put on a stern expression. "Yu moba raun dison gada en emon houmon."
Apologize to this lady and her husband.
Marcus pinched his eyes shut. He was seriously starting to consider just retreating to his room, honorary guest status be damned.
The boy in the woman's lap refused to talk, only pursed his lips. "Children," the mother chuckled. "Do you have your own?"
After finding her daughter amongst the dancers, Abby pointed at Clarke who was trying teach Lexa a Skaikru dance. The commander looked utterly terrified at all the hip swaying while Clarke just laughed and tried to pull her in.
"She's a beautiful girl."
"She takes after her father," Abby chuckled.
The woman looked at Marcus, then glanced at Clarke. "She doesn't resemble him much—"
"I think it's time for us to stop bothering you," Marcus said quickly before smiling at the woman and gesturing Abby to leave with him.
"You and your wife have a lovely evening!" the woman called out after them. Marcus had not retreated hastily enough and he knew that Abby had heard the woman's exclamation.
Abby snorted. "Oh god, she thought we were—"
Marcus attempted a laugh too, trying to ignore the faint prickling inside his chest. "I know. Ridiculous."
But every time Abby let out a new giggle he felt a new tiny stab, and he couldn't understand why. She was just as amused as he had been in the beginning of the celebration, and he didn't think of himself as a man whose pride could be easily hurt by something like this.
Abby turned her eyes to Marcus and abruptly stopped her laughter after taking one look at him. She gulped and looked down, an abashed expression on her face. It seemed that Marcus' face had betrayed him, even when he had tried not to let there be anything to betray.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
"It's okay. It was a funny mistake."
Abby drew in a deep breath. "Any woman would be extremely lucky to—"
Marcus pinched his eyes shut. "Abby, please stop."
An uncomfortable silence fell upon them. Abby started twisting the ring on her finger, as she always did when she was nervous. Marcus was unable to move his eyes away from the flower which moved along with the ring as Abby fiddled with it. The damn plant was driving him mad.
"Shall we get more wine?" he suggested quickly. Abby nodded with enthusiasm, seeming just as keen to escape the awkwardness.
Thankfully the man pouring cups for the guests did not call Abby his wife, but that might have been because Marcus didn't initiate any chit-chat outside of asking for another drink after immediately downing the first one he was given.
And he was definitely going to need a third cup soon if the night kept going on like this.
While he drank his wine and tried to have a polite conversation with Abby, the music around them switched to a beautiful melody which captured her attention. She turned to observe the dancing.
Marcus noticed some delinquents amongst the dancers. Lincoln and Octavia were trying to show the others how the grounder dance was supposed to go, but the rest of the couples seemed to have difficulties following them. Monty kept stumbling on Harper's feet, Bellamy and Raven were improvising their own dance, Clarke had a hard time trying to convince Lexa to move her feet which were firmly planted to the ground, and Murphy and Emori weren't even trying, just observing the others in amusement. Everyone was smiling and laughing despite their less than perfect performance.
"They seem to be having so much fun," Abby smiled.
"Yes, they sure do."
"Don't you feel any desire to join?" She teased. "You don't always need to be so stoic, this peace was possible partly because of your efforts, after all."
"I'll let them celebrate and stay on the sidelines myself," Marcus said and took a sip, letting his scrutiny sweep the dancing pairs once again.
He glanced at her. Abby had her eyes closed, a hint of a smile on her face as she gently swayed to the music and hummed the melody.
He quickly looked away.
"Curious thing, this grounder wine." He lifted his glass up, squinting his eyes at the liquid swirling inside it. "I wonder what kind of a fermentation process was used?"
Abby didn't answer, remaining engrossed in the music.
Marcus fought the urge to look at her again, as he knew exactly that the dreamy expression on her face would make him consider very unwise things, like doing something so bold as grabbing her hand and leading her into the midst of the other dancers. And that would be a very bad idea. Not for the fact that Marcus was not sure how adept he was dancing and would probably end up embarrassing them both, but for the fact that it would most likely be too presumptuous of an act for their new and precious friendship.
He wished there was a list of things he was allowed to do, like lay a comforting hand on her shoulder or a brush a strand of hair behind her ear without constantly feeling like he was crossing a line, or causing assumptions to emerge.
Somebody snapped a finger in front of his face. Marcus flinched.
"I just wanted to inform you that I am going to take my mom dancing since it seems that you're never going to ask her," Clarke said, having suddenly materialized in front of him.
Marcus was not sure what to answer to that.
Abby smiled and took her daughter's hand, but seemed to remember something at the last minute.
"Thank you for lending me this." Abby unfastened the cape around her. It was part of the ceremonious ambassador's clothing which had been originally given to Marcus but he had quickly handed it to Abby when he had noticed the woman shivering in a cold breeze. Underneath the cape she had on a beautiful, flowy dress that had been provided by Lexa's seamstresses. In Marcus's eyes, she was donned in a beautiful gauzy cloud, rather than in a piece of clothing.
Watching her walk away, the hem of her dress slightly swaying in the wind, Marcus felt a pang in his chest. Frowning, he tried to identify the source of the feeling.
Did he wish he could be in Clarke's place?
Marcus lowered his glass. He clearly had too much to drink.
The air was becoming chilly but Marcus deemed it best not to but his cape back on. Being surrounded by Abby's smell would definitely not help his attempt of clearing his head from these confusing thoughts.
His mind was wiped blank anyway when Abby began to dance. The music started slow at first, and her movements were slow and graceful as she waltzed with Clarke. Marcus found himself unable to take his eyes off her. Soon the music started to pick up the pace and the two women whirled hand in hand, giggling. Abby was all tinkling laughter and flaring skirts, and Marcus could only smile at the sight.
The speed of the dance got eventually too fast for Abby, and the woman yelped as she landed on her bottom. Marcus smiled when the woman burst out laughing on the ground, a beautiful flush apparent on her cheeks. Seeing her so happy and carefree made joy bubble in his chest in a way that nothing else in the world could manage to do. He could honestly continue watching her forever.
His observation was interrupted by a man clearing his throat just beside him.
"Evening, Skaihefa." he smiled after gaining Marcus' attention. Marcus watched him, puzzled, not recognizing the man who had greeted him in such familiar way. He was a burly, broad-shouldered man, although falling a few inches shorter than Marcus. He had straw-colored hair and beard, and an unpleasant smirk on face. The Broadleaf symbol was embroidered all over his fur-lined cape.
The man grabbed Marcus' hand and uncovered the sigil beneath his sleeve rather roughly.
"Yes, I see I am not mistaken. You are him. The man of peace himself," he said, clicking his tongue.
Marcus pulled his hand away, creasing his brow. "And you are?"
"Reghan. Nice to meet you," the man said, offering his hand.
In an instant Marcus knew exactly who he was. The only clan whose leader had not attended the peace negotiations was Broadleaf who had sent their ambassador instead. Marcus remembered the ambassador reading notes aloud which grew in aggression by every meeting, having been sent by the nation's prince who had not bothered to attend. After Lexa had offered a stretch of land to be annexed to Broadleaf as a final concession, a letter had been sent with a single-word acknowlegement of the peace, and a multiple paragraph threat of war if the offer of land would be withdrawn.
The prince's name was Reghan and he was standing just in front of him. Marcus grudgingly shook his hand, forcing a smile on his face.
"We did not have the pleasure to meet earlier," Reghan said and smiled.
"I'm afraid we did not," Marcus said, feeling slightly relieved about the fact. "But I'm glad that you did make it to the celebration."
Reghan snorted. "I can hardly understand why this feeble treaty is worth celebrating. Sooner or later someone decides to take that bitch of a commander down and we are back where we are supposed to be, fending for ourselves."
If Marcus had not disliked the man earlier, he certainly did now.
He turned away and took a big gulp of his wine, continuing to watch the dancers. He hoped his cold demeanor would encourage the prince to leave him alone.
"Enjoying the pretty sight of merriment?" Reghan asked.
Marcus's eyes found Abby.
"Yes," he breathed.
Reghan followed his gaze to the woman.
"I know, she's a beauty," he drawled. "Is she yours?"
Marcus wrenched his head around. "What?"
"Is she your wife?"
The same assumption even when they were apart.
"No!"
In hindsight his reply might have been too curt to be given by a leader representing his people during a diplomatic event, but Marcus honestly didn’t care at the moment. One more person mistaking Abby as his wife and he would replace the clan sigil on his arm with the brand "NOT MARRIED TO ABBY GRIFFIN".
Reghan raised his hands in an conciliatory gesture. "I'm sorry. It just looked like that might be the case.”
"How so?" Marcus really wanted to know what possibly made everyone think the same.
"Well, I noticed you watching her earlier like she was your moon and stars."
Marcus was rendered speechless. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Reghan continued.
"But that was a false interpretation. Now I know better," he said, taking a step back.
Marcus came to a bitter realization that the prince, as unpleasant of a person he was, was the only one who took his words seriously.
Before Reghan turned to leave, he shot one last smirk at Marcus. "I normally would not have bothered you, but you looked like a man who would actually give me trouble for taking his wife."
Marcus's blood ran cold.
His hand landed on Reghan's arm. He tightened his fingers around it, not letting him move an inch away from his firm grip.
"What do you mean by 'taking'?"
Reghan's eyes moved from Marcus's hand around his arm to his face. His expression darkened from the offence of Marcus touching him.
"I wouldn't have taken you as a slow man," he said, failing to wriggle his arm free. "I intend to fuck her, if that was not clear."
"I doubt she is looking for company tonight," Marcus grunted. He'd like to say that he knew Abby well enough to know that the woman would rather gnaw her arm off than spend a night with this man.
Reghan chuckled. "Women are always looking, even if they try to act reluctant. Even if she initially rejects me, she is going to be put into my bed one way or another."
So he's that sort of a man.
Marcus tightened his grip of Reghan's arm, wondering how much of a diplomatic incident it would cause if he threw the prince to the ground and beat his face to bloody pulp. Lexa would probably be less than joyful.
Reghan seemed to see from Marcus' expression that his head was about to get bashed in and let out an exasperated groan. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be. You seem like a decent person. I wouldn't want my men to take you out."
Marcus's eyes found men wearing Broadleaf colors watching them from the sidelines, hands already around the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them out from their sheaths at any given moment.
Marcus released his clutch and Reghan stumbled a step back. After regaining his footing, he smoothed his shirt and shot Marcus a glare. "I don't understand why you care so much whether I have her or not. She's just a woman."
Just a woman.
Somehow that managed to make him even angrier than he already was.
Abby was not just a woman. Abby was everything. She was...
The words slipped out of his mouth before he even knew.
"She is my fiancée."
"Your what?" Reghan raised his brow, clearly not recognizing that particular word.
Marcus had a chance to take it back.
"Betrothed. She's my betrothed," he heard himself say, even when his mind was screaming that he had no right to call her that.
Reghan's eyes widened.
To Marcus's great surprise the man opened his mouth in a roaring guffaw.
"Why didn't you say so immediately?" he laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. "What a story to tell, I almost slept with another man's bride just because he couldn't not get his mouth open in time."
Marcus clenched his jaw. It was not surprising that the only way to get the prince to back off was that lie. The prince was clearly of the type of men who valued Marcus' "claim" to Abby over her own judgment on whether to sleep with him or not.
"Don't look so sour," Reghan said and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "You should be honored that other men lust after your intended, it only proves your luck of ensnaring her."
Marcus rubbed his arm and flashed him a frosty smile. He turned her attention back to Abby as the music came to a close with a soaring last note.
Abby curtsied to her daughter, eyes still twinkling from laughter.
She turned her head and met Marcus' gaze. Her mouth curved into a fond little smile.
Marcus could not help it. He lowered his gaze in an immediate reaction. Something in her expression when she looked at him like that was so soft and tender, that Marcus, feeling undeserving, had formed a reflex to evade seeing it.
When Marcus lifted his head again he noticed in the corner of his eye Reghan staring at him. The prince's smile had faded away.
"So how long have you two been betrothed?" he asked, something flashing in his eyes. Marcus said the first thing that came in his mind.
"A couple of months."
"That's a long time. Why haven't you married her already?"
"There has not been a right time for that yet," he said curtly.
The prince stared at him through squinted eyes. Marcus realized that he was perhaps not the most convincing husband-to-be.
"But I will marry her soon, as the war is now over. I long to finally call her my wife," he said and attempted a smile.
"I believe that," Reghan said, his answering smile a tad wooden. "I hope you forgive me for the misunderstanding."
Without giving Marcus time to answer the prince walked away, leaving Marcus alone to process what had just happened.
So he had called Abby his betrothed after having spent the whole day frustrated at people for believing they were married. He felt a little bit hypocritical.
But it was just a little white lie for a good purpose. Reghan would not bother Abby anymore.
And she never needed to know.
Abby was walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. Marcus wondered if she had seen the exchange between him and the prince.
He quickly glanced over his shoulder, noticing that Reghan was still watching him from afar. The prince kept sipping his wine and observing them intently, as if their every single movement was of uttermost interest to him.
What did he still want with him?
"I know you are not much of a dancer, but you could at least walk around to keep your blood flowing. The night is getting cool," Abby advised as she reached him. Her words were diminished by the hug she gave herself immediately after when a particularly chilly breeze blew by. Marcus immediately handed his cape back to her.
"No, I won't take it again. It's yours."
Marcus kept his arm stretched out long enough until Abby finally huffed and took the cape from his hand. "But won't you get cold?"
He waved his hand in nonchalance. After all, Abby had lot less clothing on than he had at the moment, so it was only fair that cape was hers, even though he felt a chill run across his back. But the shiver might have been caused by Reghan's gaze, which was currently burning a hole on the back of his head. Suddenly he was aware of the respectable distance between them, and how this distance might seem suspicious to any observers whom had been lead to believe that they were betrothed.
He took a step forward, maybe an unneccessarily great one since he ended up being closer to her than he would ever have considered appropriate for their relationship, with his face just a couple of inches apart from hers. Abby was left blinking at this invasion of her personal space but Marcus had no time to explain.
"Would you like to dance?" he blurted out.
Abby's mouth dropped just a fraction open. Then her face blossomed into a smile. "This is new," she chuckled.
"Is that a yes?"
Abby responded by grinning and offering her arm. Marcus cast a nervous look at it before carefully hooking his arm around it.
Marcus should have thought about this more carefully. What did he want to prove to Reghan? The prince seemed like he hadn't believed a word of what Marcus had said, but he couldn't possibly gather any evidence against Marcus' claim based on just his observations of them two and whether they danced together or not.
But here Marcus was, escorting Abby amongst the dancers, with no way to back out of the action.
"You know what?" Abby asked as they started to dance, trying their best to keep in the rhythm of the other pairs. The dance was simple enough, but Marcus had difficulties trying to guide Abby to follow his steps when he barely dared to brush her back. "It's actually a bit inconvenient for me that you asked me to dance," she said.
Marcus could only answer that with a surprised look. His mouth was already forming an apology when Abby quickly continued.
"Now you are making me unavailable for all the handsome men aching to get a dance with me," she said, eyes twinkling.
Marcus smiled. This time Abby seemed to be initiating a dance that was familiar to them both; their ever playful banter.
"Oh I'm sorry," Marcus said, feigning an offended expression. "Am I not handsome enough for you?"
Abby shook her head. "No, you are not handsome. You are... Marcus."
He let out a dramatic sigh and dropped her hand. "I'll just leave then."
"Marcus!" Abby laughed when he started slowly marching off. She tugged at his sleeve, coaxing him to turn around again which he did with a cheeky smile on his face.
"I would rather have you stay," she yielded.
"Of course," Marcus grinned. "But I'm afraid you are never going to get rid of me now."
"I wouldn't mind that." Abby lifted her beautiful eyes at him, making the collar of Marcus's jacket suddenly uncomfortably tight.
Marcus shook off the odd feeling, and tried to continue their jesting as if nothing had happened.
"Then I shall never leave."
"Good. All joking aside, you're the only the person I want to dance with."
A smile started to creep across Marcus' face. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all.
They stopped caring about the steps and the others glaring at them for not keeping the pace. Instead they just made up their own dance as they went and Marcus found the courage to grab onto her back. They stomped on each other's feet without bothering to apologize and just laughed as they bumped into other dancers. Whenever Abby's feet seemed too solidly planted on the ground Marcus just twirled her around, causing Abby release a girlish giggle. He forgot everything else, Reghan, the assumptions, the flower in her ring. All he could think about was her beautiful little laughter, which made something warm and pleasant erupt in his chest.
He realized he would not rather be anywhere else than here, dancing with Abby and trying to make her do that lovely sound, and he could not for the life of him understand why he had not asked her sooner.
The reason became very apparent when the music slowed down. They both froze.
Marcus should have instinctively released her and suggested that they'd do something else but he found himself unable to do so. Instead he just gulped and stood still. Abby's eyes travelled from Marcus' hand that was still stiffly holding onto her back to the nervous expression on his face. Her lashes fluttered shut. With a shy smile on her face she grabbed Marcus hand, guiding it lower until it rested on her waist.
Marcus found himself suddenly in a very dangerous territory. He could feel the warmth of Abby's skin through the sheer fabric of the dress, making his fingertips tingle. He had the urge to pull his hand away but at the same he wanted to press his palm firmer against her waist.
They started to gently sway to the music, and soon enough Marcus realized that there was nothing to fear and that it was actually quite pleasant to have Abby in his arms. But then she let out a content sigh and lowered her head on his chest, causing Marcus’ whole body to tense.
But thankfully, the music halted at the same second.
"May I have your attention?" A voice boomed.
Marcus snatched his hands away and staggered backwards, feeling grateful of the interruption. He could kiss the man whose voice that had been.
He looked up and saw that his savior was none other than prince himself who had stumbled up to the stage, musicians giving him way with annoyed looks on their faces. Marcus took his words back.
"Oh no, not that man," Abby sighed.
Marcus whipped his head around. "Do you know him?"
"I'm glad I don't. Earlier in the evening when you were talking with Roan he was staring at me. I could feel his eyes crawling across my skin. Made my whole body shudder."
Marcus' expression darkened. Reghan had apparently had his eye on her for a while.
After gaining everybody's attention Reghan continued: "It has been a great night, hasn't it? As the prince of Yujleda, the most eager supporter of the peace, it has been my great pleasure to provide this joy for all the clans."
Abby snorted. "This celebration is hosted by Lexa and it wouldn't be even possible without you. This man has his ego through the roof."
"He also has a good dash of condescension and misogyny," Marcus grunted.
Abby turned her head, smiling. "What a scathing judgment based on one impression."
"Oh, I had the unfortune of meeting him earlier. He said things that made me consider snapping his neck."
"Marcus Kane losing his temper. I'd like to see that."
Reghan kept going. "And it surely has been a joy to all of us to witness the merry ladies who have blessed us with their enticing dancing."
Abby creased her brow. "Good god, he is slimy. I'm glad he hasn't tried anything with me except gape."
"He won't ever bother you, that much I can I promise," Marcus said and directed his stern gaze at the prince.
Reghan put on a sorrowful expression. "But alas, not everyone I've encountered has been merry. One man I talked to was looking rather downcast. "
"I suppose he has that effect on people," Abby quipped and Marcus let out a tiny laugh. They earned a mean glare from the couple next to them.
"The reason for the man's sorrow was love," Reghan explained and earned a few sympathetic sighs from the crowd.
The smile faded from Marcus' face.
"He had been engaged for months, for months, with his beloved without having been able to marry her because of the war. I could see the longing in his eyes, and it made my heart ache."
Abby rolled her eyes, while Marcus tried to desperately convince himself that Reghan was not talking about him.
"So I thought, what could the great prince Reghan do for this poor man?" he continued, grinning as the crowd around him started growing more enthusiastic about the story.
"Now he is talking about himself in third person," Abby chuckled. Marcus did not answer. He had frozen in his place to stare at the prince in wide-eyed horror. He was slowly realizing what Reghan was doing.
"So I thought and thought," Reghan said and scrunched his forehead, feigning great contemplation. "And finally I got it. I was going to kill two birds with one stone. I would not let the celebration end here, oh no. I decided to throw him the biggest, the most generous, the most memorable..."
He paused. His gaze swept over the people who were impantiently waiting for him to finish the sentence. Marcus could feel a cold shiver run down his back as his eyes met Reghan's. The man stopped to flash him a wicked grin.
Marcus needed to get out. Now.
"Wedding!" Reghan roared.
He was answered with a deafening cheer.
"Wedding?" Abby snorted. "That's somehow even worse than what I expected. I feel sorry for the fellow." She turned her eyes on Marcus, a worried expression growing on her face. "Is everything alright? You look awfully pale."
Marcus grabbed Abby's hand. "We should go."
Abby looked at the hand, surprised at the unusual physical contact.
"I'll explain later." Marcus huffed. "But we need to go."
He started dragging her after him, weaving his way through the crowd to the best of his ability.
"Marcus, what the hell are you—" Abby sputtered.
"Skaihefa!" Reghan's voice soared, halting the two dead in their track.
"The lucky man himself," the prince declared, pointing at him. Marcus could see every single pair of eyes turning to him and Abby. "Just look at his bride and tell me I'm wrong."