The guards came for me early in the morning. Their expressions were cold and detached as they unlocked my cell, the clinking of their keys echoing through the damp stone walls. One of them grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me to my feet. "Dante has ordered you to be cleaned up," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You're to attend the wedding."
A chill ran down my spine at his words. Attend the wedding? Dante's wedding to Antonia? The thought made my stomach churn. The guards chained my wrists with heavy, cold cuffs and began to drag me out of the cell. The chains clanked loudly with every step, the sound amplifying the sense of my captivity.
They led me to a room, far more luxurious than the dungeon but still a prison. Mercy was waiting there, her face a mixture of concern and determination. "Elena," she said softly, her eyes filled with empathy. "Let's get you ready."
