The halls of Veynor Keep were suffocating. Gilded chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembled nobles, their murmurs blending with the distant notes of a court musician's lute. Prince Kaelith Veynor sat at the high table, his fingers curling into his goblet of wine, the silver ring of his lineage cold against his skin.
Tonight was a celebration. His celebration. His binding to a woman he had never met, a noble from a kingdom that had once sent assassins for his father's head. An alliance sealed in blood and vows.
He should have been honored. Instead, Kaelith felt like a pawn being moved into place.
At the far end of the hall, the grand doors creaked open. Silence fell. The first glimpse of her stole the air from the room.
Lady Seraphine D'Caria entered with the poise of a woman who knew the weight of expectation. Raven-black hair fell in silken waves over her shoulders, her emerald eyes unreadable. Her gown, deep crimson embroidered with gold, clung to her frame like temptation itself. But it was her expression that unsettled Kaelith—the careful neutrality of someone who had mastered the art of deception.
His bride-to-be.
Seraphine's gaze swept over the room, briefly landing on him. For a moment, he thought he saw hesitation in her eyes. A flicker of something beneath the mask. Then it was gone.
The ceremony began, a priest reciting the vows that would chain them together. Kaelith barely heard the words. He only felt the weight of the crown pressing heavier on his head, the ghost of a future he had never chosen curling around his throat.
Then Seraphine's lips parted, her voice like silk-wrapped steel.
"I do."
A chill ran down his spine.
So, too, did she.