286: Proving trust (part 4)

Proving trust (part 4)

As they led Adela forward, each of the three women held her own torch, their steps steady and practiced from countless walks along this path.2

"The bride's tent is right over there," the woman closest to Adela said, her Latoran accent heavy.

Upon reaching the entrance, the same woman offered Adela a small pouch of water. Adela hesitated for a moment, but she knew that refusing would be a breach of their customs. She took a cautious sip, and immediately felt her tongue grow heavy, regret washing over her.

"This might have been too potent for her," the oldest-looking woman among the three murmured.

"Don't worry, sister. The water may have had a stronger effect on you since you haven't consumed it before. But it's just a tradition, and all the guests partake in it."

The third woman gently held Adela's waist and guided her inside. "You've had the enchanted water; it's meant to seal the secrets within the tent."

Never in her entire life had Adela read about this particular custom in any book about Latora!

With her body growing heavier, Adela pushed the woman's arm away and was about to turn back, her mind filled with thoughts about Egon who ought to be close to her, however, the woman in the middle prevented her, grabbing her shirt rudely.

"Where on Earth do you think you're going? This place is teeming with men! Do you want them to mistake you for a prostitute and drag you into one of their tents?"

Adela froze, trying to process the words, her body feeling slightly better but her tongue significantly heavier.

The sharp threat, dripping with tension, was followed by a desperate plea. "You are the answer to our prayers, sister. We were at a loss about how to avert the impending tragedy."

Frightened yet compelled, Adela decided to continue. She offered no resistance as the two women helped her into the tent.

Inside the tent that resembled the one she stayed in with Egon before, the atmosphere was laden with tension.

Her keen eyes immediately identified the beautiful woman at the center as the bride, mainly because of her heavier makeup and the gemstone tiara on her head. Around her, nearly fifty women, all dressed in similar white attire, filled the space. Those behind the bride left their hair exposed, while those in front, like the three women accompanying Adela, covered the top part of their heads.

But the bride's gloomy expression puzzled her. Why did she look so miserable?

The woman who had offered Adela the water stepped forward. "Married women expose their hair as a symbol of their commitment to their husbands. Single women, on the other hand, cover it, signifying their unclaimed status." She glanced up at Adela's turban with light brown eyes. "You are unwed, it seems. Am I correct?"

Determined to conceal her royal Emorian heritage, Adela stood perfectly still. She wouldn't lie to this woman, but she also couldn't reveal her true identity.

The three women exchanged glances, a brief glimmer of hope dancing in their eyes before fading into sorrow. Their gazes then shifted back to the bride, who wore a wistful and fatigued expression. Finally, their attention returned to Adela.

"Listen, sister," the woman continued, her tone desperate. "On the first night of the Ceremony in Latora, single women will enter the groom's tent, one after the other. It is a test of his commitment to his bride, and a final opportunity for him to reconsider his decision."

Adela was already aware of this tradition, but the hope in the woman's words indicated a deep reluctance toward this particular marriage. It was evident that this union was not one they desired.

With a sense of urgency, the woman continued, "We will not deceive you, sister. We do not wish for this wedding to take place, for the groom is a man of great power, wealth, and influence, but he lacks moral character significantly. If you are a woman who values fortune alone, then we implore you to step out first. An exotic beauty like you may have a better chance of winning his favor and becoming a replacement bride. Who knows?" She glanced at the dagger on Adela's waistband. "Perhaps you could even tame him, hm? What do you say?"

Adela felt genuine sympathy for the bride's predicament, but arranged marriages like this were a common occurrence in Latora. Their system was rigorous, and both the bride and groom would have the opportunity to decline the union with or without the Lady's involvement.

However, a nagging doubt gnawed at her—what if the bride truly had no say in this matter?

Adela contemplated requesting parchment and ink to convey the message that they should seek Lanark immediately for immunity if the bride was being coerced into the marriage. The Archduke would never tolerate such an injustice.

Before she could voice her intentions, impatience got the best of one of the women, who snapped, "A simple question requires a simple answer! Just nod your head in acceptance."

A shiver coursed through Adela, and she firmly shook her head in response. The women's attitude promptly shifted to one of hostility.

"Indeed, for someone audacious enough to arrive on foot with two men! You clearly lack honor and decency! Can't you seduce another man and spare an innocent life from this disaster?"

"Sister! Please! Show some respect for me and my future husband," the bride interjected from the center of the room. "You all are behaving as if it's a funeral. I... I care for Raphael. I will be the one to change him."

"Again with this! Teresa! You're entombing yourself with a man like him!"

Ignoring the hurtful comment, Teresa walked over to face Adela and clasped her hands with trembling ones.

"You don't have to do this. But please understand that if you do, you would be doing me an enormous favor. As you can see, none of the single women here are willing to step forward, and I cannot coerce them. If no one steps out, it will ruin not only this night but my entire future."

Scanning the room, Adela could see the desperation in the women's eyes as they avoided her gaze. It was clear that the bride's misery stemmed from the obstacles that stood between her and the man she loved, rather than being forced into the marriage.

Teresa's sweaty grip on Adela's hands tightened. "I trust him, and he won't choose anyone but me," she declared, glaring at the three women beside Adela. "He's not the monster others think he is." She turned back to Adela with pleading eyes. "Will you enter Raphael's tent for me?"

Adela was deeply moved by the bride's words. How was this woman any different from herself? Both were facing a test of trust, fighting for men they believed were better than the world perceived them to be. However, as a married woman, Adela knew she didn't meet the criteria for participation. She shook her head resolutely, giving a firm 'no.'

"We're entering," a man's voice called from outside. Two men in blue robes entered the tent a short moment afterward, not making eye contact with anyone inside.

"Lord Raphael wishes to know if the matter concerning the first stage of the wedding has been resolved, or if we should postpone it for another fortnight," one of them announced.

"It's been resolved!" the woman next to Adela declared, eliciting a gasp from the bride. She then placed a hand on Adela's back and pushed her forward. "Take her to the Lord immediately!" she ordered.

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