Celestria's POV
The applause faded away as recognition moved through the crowd like a slow-spreading fire.
"That is not Valencia."
"Celestria has a bigger face compared to her sister."
"Why would she take her place?"
"She could never be half as beautiful as Valencia. Not if she tried for a lifetime."
"Where is Valencia?"
"What game is she playing?"
The voices bled into each other until they became a single living thing — a crowd turning, a room curdling from celebration into something uglier. I stood at the altar in Valencia's dress with my palm still bleeding and my new husband's eyes burning into the side of my face, and I felt the floor shifting beneath me like something had given way deep underground.
"Celestria?"
My father's voice cut through the noise with a precision that made my chest cave in. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't. Instead I turned desperately to my mother and found her face had changed completely.
The fear was gone.
