Two days later, the marriage arrived.
Alya still couldn't wrap her mind around her current situation.
Transmigrated into a world she barely understood, and now, less than a week later, she was standing at an altar about to marry a man she knew almost nothing about.
'Unbelievable. Just… completely unbelievable,' she thought, plastering a tight, practiced smile across her face as she faced Alistair.
Her long white gown shimmered under the soft light of the grand hall with layers of delicate silk flowing around her like liquid moonlight, adorned with intricate silver embroidery and cascading hair accessories that caught every flicker and made her look almost ethereal.
Alistair stood opposite her in sharp contrast: black trousers, a high-collared jacket edged in deep crimson, the color of his realm clear against the pristine white of hers.
His expression remained perfectly neutral, cool, unreadable, impossible to decipher.
Alya couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were stirring behind that calm mask.
To her, the entire situation bordered on absurd.
The gathered audience watched in silence.
Prince Halwin sat among the honored guests, a genuine, satisfied smile curving his lips as though everything was unfolding exactly according to plan.
Alya lifted one hand in a subtle "come here" gesture, beckoning Alistair closer.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his composure.
This was hardly the moment for private conversation, but he leaned in anyway.
She rose onto her toes and whispered urgently against his ear, "Are you seriously okay with this? Who in their right mind agrees to a marriage when they know there's an ulterior motive behind it?"
Alistair stared down at her, expression unchanging, saying nothing.
Alya pressed on, voice barely audible. "I already told you everything, the truth about why I'm here, why Uncle Halwin sent me. And you're still going through with it?"
Alistair's gaze flicked briefly toward Halwin's seat in the front row and a low, almost inaudible chuckle escaped him.
'I doubt he even realizes he sent the wrong person to spy on me,' he thought. 'And here I believed he was clever.'
Before Alya could say another word, a resonant voice rang out across the grand hall.
"It is time for the Entwined Cup Rite!"
The herald's voice rang out like a tolling bell, silencing every whisper. All eyes turned toward the center of the dais where two ornate golden cups rested on a velvet cushion.
Alya was starting to feel uncomfortable, like what she didn't want was actually beginning. She had never once thought about getting married because she never had the space to think amid endless work.
Now here she stood, dressed like a fairytale bride.
What was about to happen felt so foreign to her, especially to a man she found really odd.
'Even after everything I told him… he's still going through with it,' she thought, a fresh wave of unease rising.
She remembered the day Alistair and Halwin met. She could see the barely restrained hatred that had rolled off Alistair in waves, she was stupid not to.
There was something going on between those two men, and she wanted no part of it.
'But if I bolt right now, in front of all these people, what happens to me?' she thought with a pout.
Alistair studied her face, starting to feel genuinely confused behind his usually impenetrable calm.
'She truly doesn't want this,' he realized, tilting his head slightly as he studied the tension in her posture, the way her fingers twitched against the silk of her gown. 'Not even a little.'
An attendant stepped forward and placed one golden cup in each of their hands.
Alya stared down at hers, brows knitting. 'Okay… what now?'
She lifted it closer, peering inside and the rich, dark liquid caught the light. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, and her eyes lit up instantly.
Wine.
Then she tipped the cup back and drank it in several quick, appreciative gulps.
"Wow…" she breathed, savoring the taste. She lowered the empty cup with a small, genuinely pleased smile. "That tastes really good."
A stunned silence gripped the hall.
Then gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Did she just… drink it?"
"Already?"
"The rite hasn't even…"
Whispers spread, eyes wide, hands covering mouths.
Alistair stared at her empty cup, then at her face, her small, utterly satisfied smile still there like she'd just discovered the best-kept secret in the realm.
He fought to keep his expression neutral, lips pressed into a thin line, but it was just useless.
Every second she stood there, she chipped away at his composure in ways he hadn't anticipated.
'Is she doing this on purpose?' he wondered, genuinely puzzled. 'Or is she simply… this unpredictable?'
He blinked once, then looked toward the herald, whose face had gone completely slack, mouth slightly open in stunned disbelief.
Across the dais, Halwin's brows knit together in confusion and growing frustration. 'Doesn't she understand what's at stake here? What is wrong with my niece today?'
Alya finally registered the weight of every gaze in the hall boring into her.
Hundreds of eyes, wide, shocked, and judgmental were fixed on her like she'd just committed some grave sacrilege.
She blinked rapidly. 'Oh… crap. I messed up.'
The herald cleared his throat with an audible rasp, voice cracking slightly as he gestured urgently for an attendant. "Refill the cup for the princess… at once!"
A fresh pour of dark, fragrant wine was quickly brought forward, and the attendant handed it back to Alya with careful deference.
She accepted it with an awkward, sheepish smile, still clearly at a loss. 'If it's not for drinking… then why are they giving me such sweet wine?'
Still amused, Alistair watched her confusion for another heartbeat, then he extended his own cup toward her with perfect courtesy.
"Entwined Cup Rite," he said quietly, voice carrying just enough for her to hear.
Alya blinked once, then her eyes widened in sudden, mortified understanding. "Ohhhhh…"
A tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Alistair's mouth, gone almost before it formed.
She nodded quickly. "Got it now."
They crossed their arms in unison, each lifting the other's cup to their lips.
They drank in perfect, mirrored silence, small, ceremonial sips that sealed the rite.
When they lowered the cups and uncrossed their arms, the herald's voice boomed once more:
"Two lives now entwined, sharing fate and destiny, no longer separate paths!"
Alya's internal voice piped up immediately. 'That's… a lot.'
The attendants stepped forward to collect the cups and Alya held up a quick hand. "Wait…"
Then she tipped her cup back once again and drained the remaining wine in three swift gulps, then handed the empty vessel over with casual politeness.
"Thanks," she said brightly.
The hall went deathly quiet.
Every face stared at her like she was crazy, some stunned, some scandalized, a few openly gaping.
Halwin, on the other hand, felt embarrassed by the situation.
Geoffrey came from behind him and leaned in close, voice a low murmur against his ear.
"Everything is in place, my Lord."