ELARA'S POV
The screaming started before I reached the altar.
My white wedding dress whispered against marble floors as I froze mid-step, bouquet trembling in my hands. Outside the grand hall's towering windows, people were running, servants, guards, nobles, all fleeing toward the palace gates.
What's happening? I turned to my sister Cassia, who stood beside me adjusting my veil. Why is everyone
The doors exploded inward.
Black-armored soldiers poured through like a flood of death. Their swords gleamed red even before they struck. Guests screamed and scattered. The beautiful white flowers decorating every column became splattered with blood in seconds.
My bouquet hit the floor.
Then I saw him.
A man in black armor stood at the entrance, silver-white hair catching the light like moonlight on steel. Even from across the hall, his presence was terrifying—cold, controlled, absolute. Soldiers parted around him like water around stone.
His eyes found mine. Silver, Sharp as broken glass.
Something cold slithered down my spine. Not just fear—something else I couldn't name. Like standing at the edge of a cliff and feeling the pull of the fall.
He looked away first, barking orders in a voice that cut through chaos like a blade.
Father! I gathered my skirts and ran toward the throne where King Elian—my father—stood with his guards forming a protective circle. We have to get you out!
A wall of enemy soldiers blocked my path. I slammed against armored chests, shoving uselessly. Move! That's my father! I'm Princess Elara of Ashencourt, and I command you to—
One soldier laughed and shoved me backward. I stumbled, catching myself against a cracked marble pillar.
Through the chaos, I spotted Prince Theron—my groom, the man I was supposed to marry in ten minutes. He stood near the side entrance, perfectly calm. Not fighting. Not even afraid.
Just watching.
My stomach dropped.
Theron? I pushed through panicking nobles toward him. Why aren't you fighting? Your guards, your sword—help us!
He finally looked at me. His handsome face showed nothing. No fear. No surprise. No love.
I'm sorry, Elara, he said quietly. It's just politics.
I stared at him, not understanding. Then I saw what he was wearing under his ceremonial coat—a black uniform. Their uniform.
No. The word came out broken. You... we were getting married. You said you loved—
I said what I needed to say. Theron stepped back when I reached for him. The Ironforge Empire made a better offer than a weak kingdom could ever provide.
A soldier grabbed my arm before I could respond. More hands seized me, forcing me to my knees in the center of the hall, right where I should have been saying my vows.
Let me go! FATHER!
I looked up and he was there again the silver-haired commander walking through the carnage like death itself. Up close, he was younger than I'd thought. Maybe thirty. Devastatingly handsome in a cold, sharp way that made my breath catch even through my terror.
He stopped three feet away, studying me with those strange silver eyes. Something flickered across his face, surprise, maybe? before his expression went blank again.
Secure her, he said without looking away from me. Don't harm her.
Why? Why would he care if I was harmed?
Then I saw her.
Cassia stood at the main gates, pulling them wider, waving more soldiers inside. Her blue dress matched mine perfectly because she'd helped me choose it this morning while lying through her teeth.
My sister turned, and our eyes met across the burning hall. She smiled, that same sweet smile she'd given me an hour ago while braiding my hair.
Cassia? My voice cracked. Why?
She walked toward me, stepping over bodies like they were puddles. When she reached me, she crouched to my level, still smiling.
Because Father never loved me the way he loved you, she whispered. Because you were always the favorite, always the precious one. Because I was tired of being second best.
So you killed him for attention?
I killed him for a crown. Cassia stood, brushing imaginary dust from her dress. The Ironforge Empire needed inside help. I provided it. In return, I get to rule Ashencourt as their queen.
The silver-haired commander approached my father's throne. Even from here, I could see the cold calculation in his movements—every step deliberate, controlled, lethal.
Execute him, he ordered.
NO! I screamed and lunged against the soldiers holding me. Please! FATHER!
My father looked at me one last time. Even with swords pointed at his heart, he smiled gently.
Be brave, little star, he called out. Remember who you
The sword fell.
I screamed until my throat bled. Screamed until no sound came out. Screamed until the world went blurry and wrong.
When I could finally see again, the silver-haired general was walking toward me. Blood spattered his armor. His cold eyes studied me like I was something unexpected—a puzzle he hadn't planned for.
He stopped directly in front of me, so close I could see gold flecks in those silver eyes. So close I could smell steel and snow and something darker.
Princess Elara Ashwyn. His voice was winter itself. I am General Kaedan Drakmir, and your kingdom now belongs to the Ironforge Empire.
He reached down. I flinched, but he only lifted my chin with one gloved finger, forcing me to meet his eyes.
As do you.
The leather was cold against my skin. His touch was gentle despite everything—careful, almost curious. Like he was testing something.
I jerked away from his hand. Don't touch me.
Something flashed in his eyes—not anger. Something worse. Interest.
The soldiers hauled me to my feet. My legs wouldn't work properly. Everything felt distant and strange.
Kaedan gestured toward the altar where I should have married Theron. Bring her. The Emperor has given me a wedding gift, and I'd hate to refuse it.
What gift? I whispered, though some part of me already knew.
He stepped closer too close and lowered his voice so only I could hear.
You, Princess. You're mine now.
The way he said mine made heat and ice war in my chest. Not a statement of fact. A promise. Or a threat.
I couldn't tell which terrified me more.