••{RHIANNON'S POV}••
The white roses tremble in my hands as I walk down the aisle.
The cathedral is all light and music. Sun rays pour through high glass, bells ring from the spires, silk banners of Astragarde drift on a warm draft.
The aisle feels impossibly long and short at the same time. I want to breathe evenly but I can't no matter how hard I try. Though the crowd is hushed, I can feel hundreds of eyes following me.
But I don't care about them.
My gaze finds my father standing at the front row in his formal cloak. King Eros Aurelian never cries in public, but today, for the first time in years, those green eyes glisten with tears of joy. Beside him, my brother, Rayn, grins ear to ear. Jesenya has her hair braided with pearls; she mouths, "You look beautiful." Little Darren stands on a cushion to see over the rail, clutching a wooden sword he isn't supposed to bring.
My family. My whole world.
Across the aisle, Cyrus's family sits in places of honor. King Bastian of House Highcrest watches with pride, his broad hand resting over his chest while beside him, Queen Marianna dabs at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Cyrus's older brother, Alexei, sits tall and composed in his ceremonial armor, every inch the warrior prince, while his younger sister, Arielle, practically glows with joy. They aren't just his family anymore, they are about to become mine.
And then, I set my eyes on him.
Cyrus.
The man I've known since we were children, my dream since the moment I understood what love is. He stands waiting at the altar in white and gold, his smile hitting me like a wave.
My love.
My soulmate.
The choir's voices rise; white petals scatter across the aisle beneath my heels. The second I reach him, he takes my gloved hand and lifts it to his lips. The kiss feels warm against my skin even through the silk.
"You're trembling," he murmurs.
"Only because I can't believe this is happening," I whisper back. "I keep waiting to wake up and find out this is all a dream."
A soft smile spreads across his face. "If it is, then I'd never want to wake up. Ever."
It's such a Cyrus thing to say that I almost laugh. The sound comes out as a breath. He leans closer, resting his forehead on mine for a heartbeat, anchoring me as he always has.
"Rhiannon of House Aurelian," he says, teasing to hide his own nerves, "you are, without question, the most beautiful terror I've ever faced."
"Flatterer."
"True."
I forget the guests, the guards, the walls. For a moment, there's only us.
Finally, we turn to face the priest together.
High Priest Galen lifts his staff, the crystal at its tip catching the light that streams through the tall windows. The music fades and the murmurs hush.
"In the name of Astoria, Goddess of the Heavens," his voice rings out, "we gather here today to bind these two souls. Let truth stand between them, and mercy, and courage. Let no shadow unmake what the light has seen."
The congregation echoes, "So shall it be."
I feel Cyrus's thumb circle once against my palm. It grounds me. The tightness in my chest loosens.
"Prince Cyrus of House Highcrest," the priest begins, turning to Cyrus. "Do you swear by Astoria's light to guard her life as your own, to love her in times of joy and grief, to stay by her side in sickness and health, and to hold her hand until your last day?"
Cyrus looks at me and the rest of the world slips away.
"I do," he says. Not loud, but steady. The smile that breaks across his face is the one I fell in love with—the one that makes my heartbeat stutter.
I can't help but smile back.
The priest faces me. "Princess Rhiannon of House Aurelian, do you swear by Astoria's light to guard his life as your own, to love him in times of joy and grief, to stay by his side in sickness and health, and to hold his hand until your last day?"
My father's hand rests over his heart. Jesenya presses her fingers to her lips. Somewhere behind me, Darren's wooden sword taps quietly against the pew before someone hushes him.
I take a deep breath. "I—"
Suddenly, the heavens rumble.
Thunder cracks so loud it shakes the cathedral walls. Outside, the sky darkens without warning. The beams of sunlight pouring through the stained-glass windows dim, as if the sun itself recoils.
The candles lining the aisles flicker violently then go out all at once, plunging the cathedral into darkness.
A shiver crawls up my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
"What was that?" someone gasps.
"Is it a storm?"
"No, the sky—it was clear just moments ago…"
"My King, something's wrong…" one of the nobles whispers to my father.
"Remain calm," High Priest Galen says, but his voice wavers. "Let us all remain—"
The heavy silence breaks with a sudden, thunderous crash.
The cathedral doors burst inward, slamming against the stone walls so hard that all the stained-glass windows shatter inward, raining thousands of shards on us. The impact rattles the pews. A gust of icy air rushes in, carrying the coppery tang of blood.
Men in blackened armor step inside, their movements silent and inhumanly fast. They aren't soldiers.
They aren't men at all.
The nobles scream, some scrambling, others frozen in terror. Guards rush forward, immediately drawing their blades.
The intruders halt, parting in perfect unison. And then they bow.
From the open doors, a figure steps into the cathedral.
He is pale as moonlight, his hair the color of flames, cascading down his shoulders, his eyes shimmering like gold. His cloak trails behind him like a living shadow. He moves with the confidence of a man who owns both the ground beneath him and the heavens above.
The cathedral immediately falls silent.
He doesn't look left or right. He doesn't look at the guards lifting their swords with shaking hands, or at the nobles stumbling backward, or at the priest who has forgotten how to speak.
The moment those golden eyes find mine, they don't look away. He stares into my very soul like a predator sighting prey.
My heart stops, then slams hard against my ribs as realization crashes in. My lips part but the word escapes in a whisper.
"Vampires."
The silence in the cathedral stretches like a bowstring.
The figure's gaze sweeps across the guests and when he speaks, his voice carries throughout the hall, deep and commanding.
"This union ends now."
Gasps ripple through the pews. Cyrus instinctively steps in front of me, his hand tightening around mine.
The intruder's lips curve into a cold, devilish smile as his golden eyes settle on me once again.
"The princess belongs to me."