"You're giving me to him?" I whisper. "Like I'm a thing?"
Father doesn't flinch. He just pours himself a glass of brandy, the ice clinking like a countdown. "It's not giving, Sereya. It's strategy."
I want to scream. Instead, I pace the marble floor of his study, barefoot, still in the silk robe from this morning. "Strategy? You're marrying me to Kaelen Dravik. The man whose family burned our name to ash."
"Yes." He finally meets my eyes. "Because if I don't, there won't be a name left to save."
A laugh escapes me, hollow and sharp. "So I'm the olive branch. The peace offering with a pulse."
He doesn't answer that. Silence is his favourite weapon—because it makes you listen harder, hoping for something human beneath the stone.
"I won't do it," I say, though my voice breaks halfway through. "I won't marry that man."
"You will," he says quietly. "Because you are my daughter. And daughters do what is necessary."
Something twists in my chest. "So I'm a soldier now? A pawn? You raised me like I mattered like I was more than a name. Was that all a lie?"
He sets down the glass and crosses the room, slowly. His hands rest on my shoulders, heavy with a lifetime of decisions I never got to make. "Sereya," he says softly, "if there were another way, I would take it. But we are cornered. The Draviks control the borders, the ports, and the banks. We are bleeding out. This marriage stops the bleeding."
His voice almost cracks. Almost.
"You're not marrying me to protect me," I whisper. "You're sacrificing me to protect your legacy."
His eyes close, just for a moment. That's how I know I've hit something real.
"Kaelen isn't his father," he says finally. "There may be something… manageable in him."
I step back from his hands. "I don't want manageable. I want out."
"You don't get out, Sereya." Now his voice hardens. "You were born into this world. You don't get to burn the kingdom because you don't like the crown."
I freeze. The air turns cold around us.
"You're the only heir left," he finishes. "If you don't wear the crown, there won't be anything left to rule."
I stare at him, my father—my teacher, my general, my last living parent. And I realized something I hadn't before.
He loves me. But not more than the Valtore name.
The wedding bells begin to toll in the distance.
The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and false joy.
I stood next to Kaelen, our hands occasionally brushing as we moved among guests—pretending. Pretending we were pleased, pretending we were honoured, pretending that we weren't two sharp blades pressed together to keep the room from exploding.
Kaelen was a man built for war, not parties. His eyes never lingered on the dancers, the food, or the champagne. He scanned the room like he was mapping exits. Looking for threats.
And here I was, the biggest threat of all.
I couldn't stop thinking about my father. About how he'd looked earlier—tired behind the eyes, older than I remembered. I hated that I couldn't be angry at just one person. I hated that I still wanted to run to him and scream at the same time.
I didn't notice I was squeezing my champagne glass until it nearly cracked in my hand.
"You're hurting it," Kaelen said suddenly.
I blinked up at him.
"The glass," he added, nodding. "Unless you were trying to stab someone with it."
"Would you blame me if I was?" I muttered.
His lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
"I'd only ask you to aim carefully."
I stared at him, surprised. Was that a joke? A warning? A confession?
Before I could respond, a tremor passed through the room—a pause in the music. Then the sound of shouting.
My heart stopped.
And then came the first gunshot.
Men shouted. Women screamed. Guards surged forward as guests scattered in all directions. The music halted mid-note, replaced by the sound of heels on marble and panic thick in the air.
"Down!" Kaelen barked, grabbing my arm.
But I was already moving. My eyes had found him—my father—standing across the room, looking confused, turning toward the noise. For a moment, I thought he'd be okay.
Then the second shot rang out.
I saw the blood before I heard the scream. His chest exploded in crimson, soaking through his ivory shirt as he stumbled back. Time fractured.
"Father!"
I ran. I didn't think, didn't feel. I just ran.
He collapsed before I reached him. My knees hit the floor, hard. I gathered him in my arms. His breath was ragged and short. His eyes found mine, wild with pain and disbelief.
"Sereya…" he gasped. "You… you must…"
"I'm here," I whispered. "I'm here. Stay with me—just stay—"
His lips moved. But no sound followed.
Then his hand slipped from mine.
My world cracked open.
Everything blurred—people shouting, more shots, someone yelling for medics—but it was distant, underwater.
A hand grabbed my arm. I fought it until I heard the voice.
"Sereya. We have to leave. Now."
Kaelen.
"This is your fault!" I shouted at him, shoving his chest. "This is your family's—"
"No." His voice cut like ice. "It wasn't us. But whoever did this… they'll come for you next."
He pulled me to my feet. I hesitated, one last look at my father's still form anchoring me to the ground.
Then I let go.
Let Kaelen drag me through the shattering remains of a day meant to secure peace.
But all I could think was:
This wasn't a wedding. It was a war.
The ballroom6 glowed with chandeliers and false joy.
Gold dripped from the walls, from the necks of wives and the fingers of men with too much power and not enough mercy. They toasted to the union like it was a coronation as if this marriage had somehow saved the world.
It hadn't saved anything.
I stood next to Kaelen, our hands occasionally brushing as we moved among guests, pretending. Pretending we were pleased, pretending we were honoured, pretending that we weren't two sharp blades pressed together to keep the room from exploding.
"My lady," said a man with a ring on every finger and a grin too wide. "You look radiant. House Valtore breeds elegance as well as fire, it seems."
I smiled politely. "Careful, Lord Teravon. You might cut yourself on both."
He chuckled, clearly drunk. Kaelen didn't say a word, just stood beside me like a statue. But I could feel the tension in his arm. He was paying attention.
To everything.
Kaelen was a man built for war, not parties. His eyes never lingered on the dancers, the food, or the champagne. He scanned the room like he was mapping exits. Looking for threats.
And here I was, the biggest threat of all.
I couldn't stop thinking about my father. About how he'd looked earlier—tired behind the eyes, older than I remembered. I hated that I couldn't be angry at just one person. I hated that I still wanted to run to him and scream at the same time.
I didn't notice I was squeezing my champagne glass until it nearly cracked in my hand.
"You're hurting it," Kaelen said suddenly.
I blinked up at him.
"The glass," he added, nodding. "Unless you were trying to stab someone with it."
"Would you blame me if I was?" I muttered.
His lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
"I'd only ask you to aim carefully."
I stared at him, surprised. Was that a joke? A warning? A confession?
Before I could respond, a tremor passed through the room—a pause in the music. Then the sound of shouting.
My heart stopped.
And then came the first gunshot.
Chaos erupted like a storm bursting through glass.
Men shouted. Women screamed. Guards surged forward as guests scattered in all directions. The music halted mid-note, replaced by the sound of heels on marble and panic thick in the air.
"Down!" Kaelen barked, grabbing my arm.
But I was already moving. My eyes had found him—my father—standing across the room, looking confused, turning toward the noise. For a moment, I thought he'd be okay.
Then the second shot rang out.
I saw the blood before I heard the scream. His chest exploded in crimson, soaking through his ivory shirt as he stumbled back. Time fractured.
"Father!"
I ran. I didn't think, didn't feel. I just ran.
He collapsed before I reached him. My knees hit the floor, hard. I gathered him in my arms. His breath was ragged and short. His eyes found mine, wild with pain and disbelief.
"Sereya…" he gasped. "You… you must…"
"I'm here," I whispered. "I'm here. Stay with me—just stay—"
His lips moved. But no sound followed.
Then his hand slipped from mine.
My world cracked open.
Everything blurred—people shouting, more shots, someone yelling for medics—but it was distant, underwater.
A hand grabbed my arm. I fought it until I heard the voice.
"Sereya. We have to leave. Now."
Kaelen.
"This is your fault!" I shouted at him, shoving his chest. "This is your family's—"
"No." His voice cut like ice. "It wasn't us. But whoever did this… they'll come for you next."
He pulled me to my feet. I hesitated, one last look at my father's still form anchoring me to the ground.
Then I let go.
Let Kaelen drag me through the shattering remains of a day meant to secure peace.
But all I could think was:
This wasn't a wedding. It was a war.