When I looked back at Mother, I saw my own terror reflected in her eyes. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hands trembled slightly where they rested on my shoulders. She looked like she'd aged years in a single night.
"It's time," she whispered. Those two words carried the weight of a death sentence. "Time to get ready for the wedding."
Mother's eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall, and I realized she was mourning me, too. Mourning the daughter she was about to lose to a monster.
It took two hours to transform me into a bride. Two hours of silk and pearls and hands carefully stitching and shaping me into something beautiful and doomed.
The dress fit too perfectly, like it was tailored to keep me from running.
The pearls at my throat felt less like jewelry and more like a collar.
Every pin in my hair was a nail sealing a coffin shut.
Now I was here, walking down the endless aisle of the Hall of Sovereigns, each step echoing off marble that had witnessed centuries of power and politics. Wars had been ended with the joining of hands and the sealing of treaties written in marriage vows.
Only royal blood and those who served the crown could wed here. If circumstances were different, it would have been a joyous occasion for someone like me, bridging the gap between two worlds.
My family tread behind me while Mattieu's hand found my elbow. In place of my father, he’d offered to walk me down the aisle.
His grip was just firm enough to remind me I was being delivered, not escorted. The contact sent revulsion crawling up my spine.
I wanted to pull away, to shake off his touch and walk this path alone, but I couldn't refuse.
Not here, not now, orever. One wrong move, and my family would pay. So, I endured the weight of his palm against my silk sleeve.
We moved at a funeral pace down the endless aisle. The music swelled around us, harps and strings weaving melodies, but all I could hear was the thundering of my own heartbeat.
Ahead, I spotted Prince Maelor sitting on the throne, and a gray-haired priest adorned in ceremonial robes.
Then I saw Thayden.
He waited to the priest’s left at the altar. He wore formal attire and the ceremonial sword of his new position at his side. Against the backdrop of white roses and golden candlelight, he cut an impressive figure, perfectly embodying his new role as Lord Commander.
His smile was polished perfection as he tracked my approach with undisguised satisfaction, like a collector finally acquiring a prize he'd coveted for years.
To everyone else, he looked like the doting husband-to-be, but I saw the monster behind the smile. The bastard who’d backhanded me for refusing his mouth.
I could still feel his fingers on my throat, the ghost of his cruelty haunting me.
I wasn’t stupid. I was sure he’d hit me again. Soon, too.
People like him used violence to keep others in line. Others like me who were…weak.
The universe seemed determined to press the lesson into my skin. But today, the reminder felt more callous than ever.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. But it was. This was my new normal.
When I walked out those doors again, I’d be doing so as Thayden’s wife.
I tore my gaze away and focused on everything else besides him.
The hall stretched before me, soaring arches ribbed with gold, stained-glass windows that cast jeweled light across floors polished to mirror brightness. White roses and jasmine cascaded from every pillar, their perfume so thick it made breathing feel like drowning in sweetness.
Every detail was breathtaking, and there were so many people here dressed in their finest. They were here to celebrate, but to me, I was walking toward my own execution.
Faces blurred into a smear of jewels and judgment. The hall narrowed until all I could see was the altar.
Then we reached Thayden, and I had no choice but to look at him.
