The bells of the Cathedral of Saint Arlith tolled with a violence that shook the stones.
Each heavy clang split the air like a blade, marking the death of something unseen, something Selene could feel dying inside her with every step she took toward the altar.
Her dress, layers upon layers of white silk and embroidered gold, flowed behind her like a river of frozen tears. Every stitch on her bodice, every pearl sewn into her veil, felt like another shackle tightening around her ribs.
The crowd rose to their feet as she entered the grand nave.
A thousand faces.
A thousand strangers.
A thousand enemies.
Selene lifted her chin, the veil trembling slightly from the draft slithering through the cathedral's ancient bones. She felt no warmth in the sunlight that filtered through stained glass windows depicting saints with broken crowns and bleeding swords.
The irony was almost poetic.
At the end of the aisle stood Cassian Veredon.
Her groom.
Her enemy.
The man she was born to destroy.
Cassian was everything the rumors had promised and more.
He wore no ceremonial robes, no crown of laurels, only a sharp-cut cloak of black over silver battle-leathers, a sword strapped openly at his hip, the pommel etched with the sigil of his house: a viper devouring its own tail.
He was young, no more than twenty-four, but there was nothing youthful about him.
His face was a study in contrasts: clean, refined bone structure marred by the hard set of his jaw; eyes a clear, piercing gray, too old for a man his age; a mouth that looked like it had forgotten how to smile.
Selene's breath hitched as their eyes locked across the cathedral's cavernous space.
He didn't blink.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't pretend to love her.
Good.
It would make what she had to do easier.
Or so she told herself.
The walk to the altar felt endless and yet cruelly brief.
The whispers swirled around her like smoke:
"Is that the last of the Arlonts?"
"She should've died with the rest."
"Poor girl. Or lucky?"
"Sacrifice or traitor, it's all the same in the end."
She didn't react.
She didn't even breathe.
Only inside, somewhere deep where no blade could reach, she repeated the words that had been carved into her soul since childhood:
You are not here to love.You are not here to live.You are here to avenge.
When she reached the dais, Cassian extended his hand.
His palm was gloved in thin black leather, the fingertips creased, the scars beneath hidden from view.
Selene placed her own hand into his with practiced grace.
She felt the heat of him even through the gloves.
Felt the strength.
Felt the warning.
The priest began the ancient rites, his voice echoing off the cathedral's high arches.
Selene barely heard the words.
She could only hear the pounding of her own heart, fast and furious and terrified.
She forced herself to focus, to memorize every detail:
Cassian's height. (Half a head taller.)
The weight of his grip. (Firm, not cruel.)
The set of his shoulders. (Coiled, alert.)
The angle of his head when he looked at her. (Curious. Dangerous.)
This was her enemy.
Her prey.
And somehow, standing before him, she felt more like the hunted than the hunter.
"Repeat after me," the priest intoned.
Selene opened her mouth, and the lies flowed out as sweetly as honey.
"I, Selene Arlont, pledge my heart, my loyalty, and my life unto thee, Cassian Veredon, King of Veredon and Protector of the Realm."
Each word tasted like ash.
Each vow was a noose tightening around her neck.
Cassian spoke his vows next, his voice low, steady, carrying a weight that was almost... resigned.
"I, Cassian Veredon, take thee, Selene Arlont, to stand beside me, to defend our house, to bear witness to our reign, until death claims us both."
Not until death do us part.
Until death claims them.
Selene felt a shiver crawl down her spine.
It wasn't a vow.
It was a prophecy.
"You may now seal your vows with a kiss," the priest declared.
The room fell into a breathless, aching silence.
Selene stiffened.
Cassian stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, giving her every chance to flinch, to run, to fall apart.
She didn't.
She tilted her chin up, jaw locked, spine straight.
He leaned in.
And kissed her.
It was a kiss of obligation, not affection.
A brush of lips, cold and impersonal, like the meeting of two blades testing each other's edges.
And yet,
There was something else.
Something Selene couldn't name, deep and furious and buried so far beneath his skin that it bled into her.
The kiss lasted no more than a heartbeat.
Two, at most.
But it left a mark sharper than any dagger.
When Cassian pulled back, he lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
Long enough to whisper, so only she could hear:
"Smile, my queen. Everyone's watching."
Selene smiled.
And inside, she died a little more.
The applause burst forth, loud and dissonant, a thousand hands slamming together in hollow celebration.
Selene turned with Cassian to face the crowd, their arms linked in a display of perfect unity.
The nobles cheered.
The commoners wept.
The priests blessed them.
And the traitors hidden among them, her allies, her handlers, watched with silent, grim satisfaction.
The first step was complete.
Selene was inside the viper's nest.
Married to the man she was destined to kill.
And whether she succeeded or failed, whether she fulfilled her mission or lost herself in the battle.
One truth burned hotter than any fire inside her chest:
There was no turning back.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 2 will be released soon. Stay tuned!