“I now present to you Crown Prince Alexander the third of Baist and his wife,” the court crier announced, leaving out my formal name as the crowd clapped slowly, hesitantly. Confused faces and looks covered most of them. The closest court ladies began to weep, and I swore Queen Anya fainted.
Only Lady Eville, my adopted mother, stood to congratulate us. I should have smiled. After all, we had won, and she had gotten her revenge. But the enthusiasm wouldn’t come nor reach my lips. I was married to a prince—though maybe not the most cordial of suitors—but this was still my wedding day and a celebration. It was the only one I would have, and I wanted to enjoy the delicacies, the pastries, and the royal food the servants had spent all week cooking. There would be music, light shows displayed upon the marble walls, and dancing. I had never attended a formal dance, and my feet were eagerly moving toward the back of the hall. I was sure the prince would be a phenomenal dancer.
Prince Xander pulled me hastily down the altar steps, and I stumbled over my feet as I tried to keep up. I paused to greet the guests, but he veered left, dragging me out a side door into a darkened hallway. My thick veil made seeing difficult. The ribbon bit into my wrist as he swung me toward the wall and pressed my back to it. When he leaned close to whisper into my ear as if a lover would, my heart picked up and my breath caught in my throat as I waited expectantly.
“These vows do not bind you to me in any way,” he growled harshly as he pulled our bound wrists between us. “Do not expect me to be faithful to you, or to care for you, you hideous creature of the night.”
I sucked in my breath in outrage. “How dare you address me so? I am—”
“No one,” he interrupted. “You are nothing to me, or the crown, and I wish to never lay eyes upon your face. You and your cursed mother. You did this to me.” His voice was filled with disdain.
He pulled a bejeweled dagger from his belt and lifted it up to my cheek, running it down the lace. Through the thick veil, I could only make out that he towered over me, the halls still too dark to see any distinguishing features.
The dagger moved between us, and I felt a pressure on my wrist as he sliced through our wedding bindings. I gasped as the blade nicked me and the brightly colored ribbons spiraled to the ground, drops of my dark red blood littering the white tiled floor.
“Leave my sight and never cross paths with me again,” the prince warned.
“What about the wedding celebration?” I asked angrily. He couldn’t possibly mean for me to not attend.
He dashed my hopes with a scoff. “There will be no celebrating. Go to your rooms and stay there.”
Prince Xander stormed down the hall, leaving me furious and alone on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, I felt my mother’s words come back to me. “Love is weak, but your anger makes you strong. Wrap yourself in your anger, and it will shield you from all who wish you harm.”
My fingernails bit into my palms, and I flashed my bloodied wrist into the air.
Fiergo.
My power lit every sconce on the wall and in the palace. I twirled my finger in the air again, and the discarded ribbons along the floor flew up and wrapped around my wrist, creating a bandage.
It wasn’t lost on me, the irony of my wedding bindings becoming my bandage, or how I knew this marriage would bring me and the royal family nothing but pain. I could accept that. Pain was a close friend. We got along just fine.
Straightening my shoulders, I looked across to the mirror on the far wall, my curiosity piqued as I wanted to see myself on my wedding day. Lifting my veil, I saw my black hair, flowing loose down my back; eyes so light they looked silver but when angered turned dark. My unsmiling lips were soft and full. They puckered as I recalled the prince’s words. “I hope to never look upon your face.”
Pity, for I was beautiful.
A cough came from behind a stone column in the hallway.