The Rise Of The Unwanted Girl (Athena) novel Chapter 363

Chapter 363

Athena reached up to rub her sore neck, and Claudia chuckled. “Just bear with it a bit longer. The heavier the fiara presses, the more your husband will cherish you in the days to come.”

Suddenly, the sound of suona horns drifted in.

The room instantly descended into chaos. Some were grabbing the red veil, others the bronze mirror.

Claudia’s anxious voice rang out. “Has the bridal bouquet been wrapped in lace? And the silver penny for her shoe. Where is it?”

“Here! Here!” a maid called out.

The room bustled in a flurry. Athena sat there like a porcelain doll, letting them dress her in ivory silk and lace.

Beneath the delicate veil, she couldn’t see much, only that she was guided back to sit at the edge of the canopied bridal bed by Trina.

Soon, footsteps and laughter carried in from outside, men’s voices, teasing and boisterous.

It had to be Xander who came to claim his bride, now at the parlor door playing the traditional wedding games.

She couldn’t quite catch the words, but the laughter was clear and frequent.

She imagined Xander with his usual furrowed brow, wholly out of his element.

He could command legions, but these frivolous antics might leave him helpless.

In truth, Athena had underestimated him.

Dressed in a crisp tailcoat of navy blue and crimson, Xander had already strategized on the ride over in his barouche.

He now stood outside the parlor, faced with the first challenge. A poetic match.

The matron of honor passed a folded parchment beneath the door. It was half a verse penned by Athena the night before. “Beneath the ash, autumn leaves fall. A heart undone in tear–stained shawl.”

A moment later, a firm voice replied from outside. “Here comes the carriage down the lane, to bind our hearts in sun and rain.”

Athena quietly sighed in relief, a soft blush rising beneath her veil.

Her heart fluttered gently at his line.

Applause erupted from outside. “I never expected Prince Xander could wield both sword and sonnet.”

Next, a footman passed in a second slip of parchment with a single poetic line. “A lantern burns through centuries‘ dark.”

A short silence followed. Then the delighted laugh of a child broke it. Xander crouched, whispered something in the ear of a small lad, and pressed a silver shilling into his palm.

The boy chirped cheerfully! “Two hearts as one, a future stark with spark!”

Cheers followed once more, and Athena couldn’t help smiling.

The maids giggled quietly, and the matron nodded with delight. “Such clever wit, and from a nobleman, no less. A match made by heaven!”

Having passed two tests, the parlor door remained closed.

Xander stood with hands behind his back, the wind rustling his cloak. “Whatever challenge remains, let it be known,” he said, amusement and resolve in his voice.

His friends and comrades cheered heartily from behind. “Let it come! Our prince shall not be undone by parlour games!”

Ever since Xander relinquished his military title, his men have grown increasingly informal around him.

By now, they were so comfortable with him they could practically throw an arm around his shoulders and joke like old friends.

His men stood behind Xander, cheering him on loudly.

The matron curtsied gracefully and said, “These are trifles to a war hero, Your Grace. But this final task was made by the bride herself. It may prove

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Chapter 363

more delicate.”

“Oh?” Xander raised a brow, curiosity piqued.

The matron of honor opened the door slightly so he could peer into the room.

Inside, on a mahogany writing desk, stood a white silk–bound fan. It was entirely blank.

The crowd peered in with confusion. “What is this contraption?”

“The bride wishes His Grace to pen a poem of four lines upon the fan, beginning each line with the letters of ‘LOVE‘. It must speak of eternal

union.”

A gasp swept through the courtyard.

The fan was small, the doorway distant, and Xander was to write upon it without even entering the room.

The gathered crowd hushed, all glancing at Xander.

The matron added, with a mischievous smile, “Should His Grace fail, he must down every glass of wine upon that table.”

Servants rolled out a table set with a towering pyramid of punch glasses. It was easily thirty or more.

One of Xander’s men, Ansel, cleared his throat and said, “My lord, I’ll take the drink in your stead if it comes to that.”

But Xander couldn’t afford to falter. He still had to carry his bride through the streets.

Inside, Athena grew anxious as silence persisted.

She thought, ‘Is the task too harsh? Have I gone too far?‘

Just as she was about to call Trina over, a roar of admiration erupted outside.

Even Trina whispered in awe, “His Grace is truly remarkable…”

Xander had tied his quill to the tip of his riding crop and, with the force of his trained arm, carefully wrote across the delicate fan.

Soon, a steward recited the poem aloud.

“Let the candle burn through time. Onward with hands entwined. Vows we speak in solemn grace. Eternity our shared embrace.”

The initials spelled “LOVE.”

Cheers erupted as the matron cried out, “Time to receive the bride!”

Athena clutched her skirt. Her heart raced.

Athena felt lightheaded, her whole world spinning with nerves. Then she heard Richter’s gentle voice. “Athena, let me walk you down the aisle.”

She was helped onto his arm, her two other uncles flanking her.

Ahead strode her grandfather, Kurtis, proudly leading the way.

Such a stately procession gave her courage.

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