<span style="font-style: italic">"You have every right to hate me."</span><br/><br/>The slight move of Genevieve's head as she casts sidelong glance Motto's way, gave away the fact that she was listening to his words. It was hard not to. They were in the same carriage, after all, seated beside each other. Genevieve shifted slightly, eyes moving away to look at the countryside as the carriage rolled along the flagstone.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"This is a foul situation. I intend to fix it and...I will make things right."</span><br/><br/>How? She wanted to ask. By sending her away? Marrying the woman she had seen him embrace? Or perhaps he had been using Setaphina for pleasures sake. If that were the case, however, could she trust him to be faithful? To love her? Did it really matter? She was royalty, rarely did they get to love their spouses. Sure, many grew to love each other, but Genevieve wanted more than that. She wanted real love. Not simple fondness between two. Eyes dropped, looking at fidgeting hands, and the woman suppressed a sigh. Would Setaphina be there? Was the noble lady part of the ceremony?<br/><br/>The cathedral was absolutely beautiful. Stain glass windows stood tall, rich colors filtering the sunlight it let in. Candles lined the walls, chandeliers of crystal reflected colored light like dancing glitter. Rows of pews were tufted red velvet, comfortable and meant for long periods of sitting. The alter had been decorated with small wooden structure and an arch, all of them meant for flowers, which would be placed there closer to the wedding.<br/><br/>Not yet needed for the rehearsal, Genevieve was ushered towards a chair at the entrance. It was large, with plenty of standing room, most of which occupied by a standing choir in robes. It seemed they would be going through the entire thing, start to finish. It would be a long day  Genevieve supposed, and she was beginning to regret her decision to skip breakfast. Food had been provided, of course. There was a table spread for the noblemen and ladies involved in the wedding and Mildred was intuitive enough to bring Genevieve a small plate, which she picked at.<br/><br/>"Is there anything I can get for you, My Lady?" Mildred spoke, sitting beside the woman. Genevieve, who had been casting unreadable glances towards Motto, had to ask Mildred to repeat herself before she could answer.<br/><br/>"Yes, please. I'd like something to read, while I wait. I imagine I won't be needed for a little while." And she was correct. Of course, she didn't have time to read, for all the attention she got from nobles she had yet to meet. Genevieve was polite and explained to those who seemed offended at her sitting that she had cut her foot the night before on some broken porcelain she had carelessly dropped in her rooms. They were sympathetic, although Mildred's face darkened at her fabricated story. The maid had no qualms with airy Motto's seemed dirty laundry. If only Genevieve hadn't made it perfectly clear that she wasn't to do such a thing.<br/><br/>And then, Genevieve's father waltzed through the door. He was vital to the ceremony, giving Genevieve away. He approached, enveloping the woman in a tight hug, beaming. "It's good to see you finally settling down, little flower." She had been his favorite as a child, her independence a quality he enjoyed...until she was old enough to we'd, anyway. And Genevieve, who had been missing home something fierce since the argument, had forgotten all about the bride price that was paid to him. "Motto is a good king. He will treat you well." Genevieve had settled herself back down as her father spoke. She simply gave a nod and a tight lipped smile. He would treat her well.<span style="font-style: italic">Along with any other woman he fancies.</span>It was an unfair thought. But Genevieve couldn't help thinking it.