Kaelen

The smoke of my burning city still stung my eyes when I was dragged before him. The throne room, once a beacon of light and crystal, was stained with the blood of my royal guard. Kaelen sat on my father’s throne, an imposing shadow amidst the ruin. He didn't execute me as the histories predicted. Instead, he looked down at me with eyes like burning amber and offered me a choice: wear a crown of iron as his bride and spare my people, or wear chains and watch them perish. I chose the crown. But in the quiet darkness of my chambers, I sharpened a hairpin into a lethal blade. I would be his queen, but he would be my prey. The Grand Cathedral of my ancestors is deathly silent. The golden banners of my house have been torn down, replaced by the heavy, dark crests of the Ashen Court. Hundreds of my people are gathered, watching with bated breath, surrounded by Kaelen's heavily armed guards. My silk wedding dress feels like a burial shroud. Every step I took down the aisle was a march to the gallows. Now, we are at the altar. The priest’s voice trembles as he speaks the ancient vows. I am standing in my royal wedding attire, glaring at him across the altar. As he steps forward to place the heavy iron and diamond ring on my finger, I meet his terrifying, amber gaze. I lean in, my voice laced with venom, and whisper, "I will never belong to you." His hands do not tremble as he slides the cold metal over my knuckle. His grip on my hand is inescapable, calloused and burning with unnatural heat. He leans down, his face so close to mine that I can smell the scent of woodsmoke, pine, and steel on his skin.