SERAPHINA POV:
On the day before the wedding, I had to go to the palace to finalize the ceremonial details with the royal staff. I chose my route carefully, trying to avoid any chance of encountering Damien.
But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.
I turned a corner into a long, sunlit corridor and there he was, leaning against a marble pillar as if he'd been waiting for hours. He looked tired, with faint shadows under his eyes, but his gaze was as arrogant as ever.
He pushed off the pillar and blocked my path. The servants in the hall scurried away, bowing their heads.
"You're really going to marry that waste of space?" he asked, his voice laced with scorn.
I looked up at him, my expression freezing over. "Your Highness, I'll thank you to watch your tongue. The 'waste of space' you refer to is your own uncle, a decorated war hero who bled for this kingdom, and my future husband."
He blinked, taken aback. The meek girl who had once trembled at his slightest frown was gone. In her place was this stranger with a spine of steel and a tongue like a razor.
"You..." He was so angry he was sputtering. "Seraphina, do you think this little act of rebellion is impressing me? I'll admit, you have my attention. Now, call off this absurd wedding. Come back to me, and I can pretend none of this ever happened."
I looked at his handsome, self-assured face, and a laugh escaped my lips. It was a soft sound, but it was filled with an undisguised, pitying sort of amusement. How could I have ever loved this foolish, egotistical man?
"Your Highness, you seem to be under a grave misunderstanding." I tilted my head, my voice sweet, the words themselves pure venom. "I love Lord Gideon. It has only ever been him. As for you... I'm sorry, but you have never occupied any place in my heart."
His pupils contracted. The blood drained from his face, leaving it a stark, waxy white. My words, I knew, were a dagger forged of Dragonslayer Gold, aimed directly at his pride. It was the one thing that could truly wound a dragon.
"You're lying!" he hissed, his control snapping. He lunged forward and seized my wrist, his grip so tight I felt the bones grind together.
A sharp pain shot up my arm, but I refused to cry out. I just stared at him, my eyes like chips of ice. "Your Highness, a man and a woman should not have such contact. Especially when you are gripping the arm of your future aunt. It would be detrimental to your reputation."
"Shut up!" His breath came in ragged gasps, his golden eyes burning with a furious, wounded fire.
Just then, a calm voice cut through the tension. "Damien. Let her go."
We both turned. Lord Julian stood a few paces away, his expression gentle but firm. As a member of the royal family and a known friend of Gideon's, his presence carried weight.
Damien reluctantly released my wrist, his jaw tight with resentment.
I rubbed the angry red marks on my skin and gave Julian a small nod of thanks. "Lord Julian."
Julian nodded back, then addressed Damien. "The King is looking for you in the study. Don't disgrace your title as Crown Prince out here."
Damien shot me one last look, a look that promised murder, before spinning on his heel and stalking away.
Watching his retreating back, I felt nothing. This was only the beginning.
"You didn't have to provoke him like that," Julian said with a sigh, his kind eyes filled with concern.
"Sometimes, a clean break is the kindest cut," I replied softly. "I don't want to give him any false hope."
After thanking Julian again, I continued to the Office of Rites. During my meeting with the chamberlain, I made one final, calculated request.
"Traditionally, the bride is escorted to the wedding ceremony by a high-ranking male member of the royal family," the old man explained. "Usually, that would be—"
"I know," I interrupted gently. "May I request a change in the escort?"
The chamberlain looked startled. "Who did you have in mind, my lady?"
I smiled. "I would be honored if Lord Julian would escort me. As Lord Gideon's friend, I'm sure he would be happy to do so."
The news spread through the palace like wildfire. It was the final, public humiliation. I had not only rejected Damien, but I had also stripped him of the last shred of dignity the ceremony would have afforded him as my former betrothed.
I heard later that when the message reached him, he was so overcome with rage that he coughed up blood and collapsed, taking to his bed with a sudden, violent fever.
