Chapter 5

Two weeks ago

I’d never thought much about my wedding day. Not to be stereotypical, but it held little appeal for the groom. Besides, I’d always known I’d have little say in who I was marrying. I’d marry some suitable royal or aristocrat, or perhaps an eligible heiress, and the palace would plan the ceremony down to the colors of the napkins at the reception. 

I would just be there to say the vows and kiss the bride.

On my wedding day to Niamh, however, I found myself staring at Laurent as he repeated, “We can’t find your fiancée, Your Highness.”

It was so absurd, and so…expected, that I let out a loud laugh. I turned to the mirror, adjusting the sash crossing my chest. I even wore a sword at my left side. It wasn’t sharpened, which was a good thing, considering Laurent looked as though he’d like to run himself through.

“She most likely wanted a bit of time alone before the ceremony.” I adjusted my cuffs. “She won’t run.”

Niamh was many things—menace, brat, siren—but she was