The chapel was dark, lit only by torches that flickered against the stone walls.
Princess Caroline stood beside King Casimir, still wearing her light blue gown that was close to white, at least she was dressed well for the occasion she thought. He had not given her time to change.
The priest, roused from his sleep, muttered the vows in a daze. Guards stood at every exit. The doors were barred.
Princess Caroline's pulse thrummed as King Casimir took her hand in his, his grip unyielding.
This was not how she had imagined her wedding.
But there was no choice. Not anymore.
King Casimir's amber eyes locked onto hers. "Say the words, Princess."
Her throat was dry, her heart racing. But she refused to falter.
"I take you as my husband."
His fingers tightened around hers. "And I take you as my wife."
The priest pronounced them bound.
King Casimir wasted no time—he stepped forward and claimed her lips in a kiss that was as much a vow as it was a warning.
She was his now.
And he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.
As they left the chapel, a messenger ran toward them, his face pale with terror.
"Your Majesties," he gasped. "There's been an attack—on the council chamber."
Casimir and Caroline exchanged a look.
The rebellion had begun.
And she was now Queen in the heart of a deadly storm.