Wrong Marriage and Sweet Love

Joyce followed Clint to the altar.

Clint extended a hand, signaling her to place her hand on his. Joyce hesitated but complied; standing there in front of everyone was not an option. She had just resolved one issue and did not want to create another.

They ascended the altar. From this height, everything felt more sacred.

An elder in ceremonial robes held a colorful flag in one hand and a branch in the other, dancing. Behind him sat a row of musicians playing ritual tunes. The elder sang in an ancient language that Joyce did not understand.

Clint stood motionless on the altar, his face serious. Joyce felt out of place in her casual clothes, adding to her discomfort.

After a while, the elder took a basin of water and sprinkled it into the air, chanting in the ancient language with each sprinkle. He then signaled two boys to bring basins of water to Clint and Joyce.

Clint, clearly familiar with the ritual, washed his face and hands gracefully. He glanced at Joyce, indicating she should do the same.

Joyce muttered, “Why do I have to participate in your country’s ritual? Just let me watch.”

Clint shot her a cold look.

Joyce sighed and decided to go through the motions, washing her face and hands quickly.

Two girls then approached with trays holding towels for drying their hands and faces. Clint dried himself first, and Joyce followed suit.

The cleansing ritual concluded. The elder lit seven candles around Clint and Joyce. Though it was daytime, the candle flames flickered in the wind.

Next came the incense lighting, accompanied by another dance from the elder.

Finally, he recited a long prayer or incantation that Joyce could not understand. When he finished, he poured water from his bottle into two golden cups. He handed one cup to Clint and the other to Joyce.

“Please drink the holy water, Your Highness, for divine protection and blessings,” the elder said respectfully.

Clint took his cup, and Joyce reluctantly took hers. Clint raised his sleeve to shield his cup as he took a sip, noticing Joyce had not moved.

He frowned. “Why aren’t you drinking the blessing water?”

Joyce frowned back. She didn’t need any divine blessings. “I’m afraid it’s poisoned,” she snapped.

Clint’s expression darkened as he swapped their cups and drank hers in one gulp. “I already drank from this cup; it’s safe now.”

Joyce was speechless. He had already drunk from it but still expected her to drink it too. Reluctantly, she noticed everyone watching her, waiting for her to finish so they could conclude the ceremony. She felt trapped.

She hesitated but finally drank it all in one go. It tasted like plain water.

The elder collected the golden cups and began another dance, this time holding a sharp sword that gleamed in the sunlight.

The sword danced with him, creating an impressive display. But Joyce grew impatient and whispered to Clint, “When will this end? My legs are getting numb.”

“Almost done,” Clint replied curtly.

Suddenly, the elder lunged at Joyce with the sword. Startled, she dodged but got a cut on her arm. Blood stained the silver blade.

Clint grabbed the sword’s edge with his hand to stop it from hurting Joyce further. Blood dripped from his palm.

“Your hand!” Joyce gasped as she saw him bleeding.

Just when she thought it was an assassination attempt, Clint released the blade. The elder pulled back and pointed the sword downward. Blood from both Joyce and Clint dripped into a golden basin filled with water, mixing together.

Joyce was shaken but noticed Clint remained calm. Was this part of the ritual? It felt eerie to her-using blood for a heavenly offering?

The elder then lifted the basin and poured its contents over them both. They were drenched instantly.

Joyce was stunned-what was happening?

The ritual finally ended as the elder knelt down in deep reverence while music played again.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Clint took Joyce’s hand and led her down from the altar step by step. She tried to pull away but felt his grip tighten; his palm was still bleeding, so she dared not struggle too much.

At the bottom of the altar, Clint released her hand. “Let’s go change clothes. We can leave East Palace now.”

Joyce wanted to complain but held back upon hearing they could leave East Palace. She wondered why Clint would risk taking her away when she had a gun-wasn’t he afraid she’d escape?

For some reason, she felt like she was walking into a trap.