Chapter 3

Cassian blocks the stone path to the palace like he owns the air.

He looks at my wrist—at the red bond mark the King's ceremony burned there last night, Lucien's name in silver script—and his lip curls.

"No laurel cord today?" he says. "Smart. You figured out the cold act works better than begging. You came here hoping to run into me."

In my old life, those words would have shattered me. Today I nearly laugh.

"The Queen summoned me," I say. "Ask Nora."

Nora bows. "It's true, my prince."

His face goes stiff.

"Lucien's an empty shell," he snaps. "He'll never move again. You're choosing a lifetime of cold, lonely nights."

I meet his gaze. "Cassian. I spent a lifetime beside you. What's the difference? I was always alone."

He flinches—actually flinches—and I walk past him without another glance.

Behind me, I hear him breathe in sharply, like something hit him in the chest.

Queen Helena unrolls a gold-trimmed scroll. "The ceremony. Three months is ideal. The whole kingdom will attend."

Three months. My stomach turns.

Three months was my last wedding. The day the ground split open under my car and rogues crawled out of the earth. The day the crowds screamed that I was cursed, that I'd gotten my own pack killed. The day I became the kingdom's bad omen.

"One month," I say.

The Queen blinks. "That's absurd. Far too rushed."

"I don't want to wait to join my Alpha."

Footsteps behind me. Cassian. He heard.

"So desperate to marry a coffin?" he sneers.

The Queen sighs. "Talk sense into her, Cassian. She always listens to you."

He drops into a chair beside his mother and smiles cruelly. "If she wants to crawl into the dark, let her. Delaying will only make her bitter."

"The Prince is right," I say sweetly. "One month. And Cassian—you must come watch me marry your uncle."

His smile dies.

"I have duties," he mutters, and storms out.

The Queen studies me. "Lucien can't walk the bridal procession. Someone must escort you. Cassian, perhaps?"

A test.

"No," I answer instantly. "The Prince is busy. Send Gideon, the royal envoy."

Her shoulders relax. "As you wish."

But Celeste whispers in her brother's ear that night. I don't hear the words. I don't need to.

On my wedding day, I walk out of the Silvercrest ruins in white lace, and Cassian is waiting at the gates. Celeste stands beside him in violet, smirking.

"Who else were you expecting?" Celeste purrs. "Drop the act. This whole dark-bride routine was a trap to make my brother stop the wedding and take you himself."

"Stop playing games, Seraphina," Cassian says. "I don't have time for this."

"Your ego has no bottom," I tell him.

Wind howls. Gideon's car pulls up, and the envoy steps out. "The Queen assigned me, Prince Cassian."

Celeste chokes. "She refused you?"

I curtsy to Cassian, mocking. "Thank you for coming."

I reach for Gideon's arm—

—and Cassian's hand clamps around my wrist so hard my bones grind.

"As long as I'm standing here," he growls, "no one takes you."

"Let go!"

"If she wants Blackthorn so badly, let her walk there. Through the rogue woods. In that dress."

The crowd gasps. Someone shouts, "That's a death sentence!"

He leans close, breath hot on my ear. "Walk, or rot here in your dead pack's ashes."

And just like that I'm back in the mud, red eyes in the dark, his taillights disappearing.

I rip my arm free.

"You disgust me, Cassian."

Thunder splits the sky.

Black clouds roll over the sun. A howl rises from the north—not one wolf, but fifty. Black cars pour down the road like a funeral, flanked by massive dark wolves running in formation. The crowd drops to its knees.

Thane steps out of the lead car and kneels in front of me.

"The Alpha of Blackthorn has come for his bride."

The rear door of the last car opens.

A pale hand pushes back the curtain.

Silver eyes.