The cheering blurred into a low, senseless roar.
Selene's fingers curled tighter around Cassian's arm as they descended the marble steps, the air heavy with the scent of roses and burning incense. Her gown, white and immaculate, whispered against the stone like a ghost trailing after her.
She could feel the weight of every stare pinned to her back.
Adoration. Jealousy. Suspicion.
It didn't matter.
All that mattered was the blade hidden against her thigh, and the clock already ticking inside her mind.
The sooner she finished her mission, the sooner she would be free.
Cassian's hand remained light against hers, not possessive, not warm, an anchor made of ice. His movements were flawless, precise, as if they'd rehearsed this waltz of lies a thousand times.
They reached the grand exit of the cathedral.
The heavy doors groaned open, revealing the waiting sea of Veredon's citizens outside. Thousands of people, waving banners and throwing petals into the air, their faces bright with celebration. They didn't know. They would never know.
Selene inhaled sharply beneath her veil.
The world smelled of blood and lilies.
Cassian turned to her, his face angled slightly away from the crowd.
For a moment, just a moment, something flickered behind those storm-gray eyes.
Pity?
No.
It was something colder.
"You'll smile now, won't you?" he murmured, so low only she could hear.
Selene's throat tightened.
She tilted her chin up, summoned a brittle smile, and let him lead her into the sunlight.
The roar of the crowd hit her like a wave. Trumpets blared. Children threw handfuls of petals at their feet. Old women wept with joy.
"Our Queen!" they cried. "Long live the Queen!"
Selene smiled wider, until her cheeks ached.
Inside, she screamed.
The carriage ride to the palace was a cage lined with velvet.
Selene sat rigidly across from Cassian, the space between them feeling both endless and suffocating. The windows were open, letting in cheers and sunlight, but inside the carriage, there was only silence.
Cassian watched the passing crowds through the window, his jaw tight, his hand resting lazily on the pommel of the sword at his hip.
He hadn't spoken another word to her since they left the cathedral.
Neither had she.
What was there to say?
Congratulations, my king. Soon, I'll be your death.
The horses turned toward the palace gates, the golden towers piercing the blue sky like spears.
Selene's heartbeat quickened.
In a few hours, she would know the layout of the inner chambers.
In a few days, she would gain access to the royal guards' shift changes.
In a few weeks, no, sooner, she would complete her mission.
She pressed her gloved hand against her lap, feeling the hidden blade beneath the folds of her gown.
Thirty days.
That was the time her handlers had given her.
Thirty days to seduce his trust.
Thirty days to slit the serpent's throat.
Thirty days to bury her own heart, if she still had one left.
When the carriage stopped, Cassian disembarked first. He extended his hand to her without looking, a gesture as stiff and ceremonial as everything else between them.
Selene placed her hand in his, ignoring the tremor in her wrist.
They walked together through the palace courtyard, past bowing knights and whispering courtiers. Every step Selene took deeper into the palace felt like sinking into quicksand.
The Hall of Coronation loomed ahead, an endless stretch of gold and crimson banners, where the first feast of their union would be held.
Where the first moves of her betrayal would be played.
Cassian's thumb brushed her knuckles lightly as they walked.
An accident?
No.
A warning.
Selene risked a glance at his face.
Unsmiling. Unforgiving.
And, she realized with a strange jolt, deeply, utterly tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep could cure.
The kind of tired that lived in your bones when hope had died.
For one reckless heartbeat, she wanted to ask him.
What happened to you?
What broke you, Cassian Veredon?
But she stayed silent.
She couldn't afford to care.
As they reached the dais, an advisor whispered something in Cassian's ear. His lips thinned, his brow furrowed for just a second before he smoothed his expression back into perfect, kingly indifference.
Selene caught only one word:
"Rebels."
Rebels?
Her blood went cold.
Was the kingdom already crumbling from within?
Had her side moved faster than she thought?
A trumpet sounded again, signaling the beginning of the coronation feast. Gold plates, rich meats, spiced wine, nothing could cover the tension thickening the air.
Cassian pulled out her chair for her, an unnecessary courtesy.
Selene sat, smoothing her gown, her mind racing faster than her pulse.
He sat beside her.
Neither spoke.
The nobles watched them, waiting for any sign, any crack in the perfect façade.
Selene lifted her goblet of wine, smiling at no one.
Cassian mirrored her.
Their gazes met over the rim of their cups.
Not a toast of love.
Not a celebration.
A silent, bloodless duel.
And as the first bite of poisoned loyalty touched her tongue, Selene knew one thing with chilling certainty.
This was not a marriage.
This was war.