Chapter 1: The Wrong Groom

Emilia's POV 

“Tighter,” I said, watching Odette work on my braid through the mirror. 

She paused with a pin between her fingers. “Your Highness, if I pull it any tighter, it might hurt.” 

“Then be careful enough that it does not.” 

Her fingers moved again, but they were shaking badly enough that the pin slipped from her hand and disappeared beneath the dressing table. 

I stared at her reflection. “Seriously?” 

“I am sorry, Your Highness.” Odette immediately crouched down to search for it. 

“That is the third one.” I turned slightly, making the unfinished braid tug against my scalp. “Can you do anything without dropping it?” 

“I am sorry, Your Highness.” 

“Just find it.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

Odette had been my maid since we both turned seventeen. Four years later, she still flinched at the slightest rise in my voice. 

I looked back at the mirror and straightened my posture, lifting my chin the way Mother had taught me when I was six. Years of being raised as a princess had taught me to keep my composure, even when everything around me tested my patience. 

I had known for months that I would marry Prince Matt. I did not love him, but love had never been the point. This marriage would strengthen our families, settle the border dispute, and give both kingdoms more power. That was enough. 

What irritated me was the waiting. 

I had been sitting in this chair for almost an hour, and I had already made Odette fix my braid twice while waiting for a wedding that should have started forty minutes ago, yet Prince Matt was still nowhere to be seen. 

“How long does he expect me to sit here?” I muttered, my anger burning hot behind my ribcage. 

Odette froze beneath the dressing table. "I-I am sure His Highness is on his way, Your Highness." 

I looked down at her. “You are my maid, Odette, not my friend. You do not need to tell me what you think will make me feel better.” 

“Of course, Your Highness.” Her voice came out smaller this time. 

A few minutes later, Odette finally secured the last pin into my braid and carefully arranged the loose strands around my face. She stepped back to inspect her work before reaching for the veil. 

“Hold still, Your Highness.” 

I lifted my chin as she placed the veil over my head, fastening it securely at the back of my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, making sure nothing was out of place. 

Perfect. 

Exactly as a princess should look on her wedding day. 

Before I could say anything, the dressing-room doors opened and Sir Rowan stepped inside. He was the captain of my guard, and the fact that he looked slightly out of breath only made my irritation worse. 

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing quickly. “Prince Matt has arrived.” 

“Finally.” I rose from my chair, carefully gathering my skirt. “Where the hell has he been?” 

“Apparently, there was a delay on the road.” 

“A delay?” I repeated, staring at him. “He is an hour late to his own wedding because of a delay on the road?” 

Rowan's jaw tightened for half a second before he lowered his eyes. “That is what I was told, Your Highness.” 

I studied him, but his expression gave me nothing. 

Of course it did not. 

Everyone in this palace had mastered the art of saying exactly what they were supposed to say. 

“Fine.” I turned toward the doors, adjusting my veil one last time. “Tell them I am ready. I have no intention of waiting here all day.” 

Rowan bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.” 

The royal hall was already full when I entered, the white stone walls glowing beneath hundreds of golden candles while nobles filled every seat in their finest clothes. Through my veil, their faces blurred into indistinct shapes as I walked toward the raised platform, my train dragging behind me while the musicians played louder with every step. 

For centuries, royal brides and grooms had been married behind veils. It was an old tradition, supposedly created after a royal couple had seen each other before their wedding and suffered a string of disasters afterward. Whether anyone truly believed the story anymore did not matter. The rule remained the same. 

No bride could see her groom. 

No groom could see his bride. 

Not until the vows were spoken. 

Only then were they allowed to lift their veils and look at the person they had just married. 

Personally, I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. 

But I had no intention of being the princess who ruined a centuries-old tradition because she was impatient. 

I reached the platform and stopped beside the groom. 

His face was covered by a dark veil, just like mine, but I could still see the general shape of him through the thin fabric. He was taller than I remembered Prince Matt being, although perhaps that was only because I had never stood this close to him before. 

We had met several times over the past year. 

Dinners. 

Formal celebrations. 

A few meetings between our families. 

Enough for our parents to decide we would make a suitable married couple. Not enough for me to know much about him. 

I had never bothered to learn more. 

“Take each other’s hands,” the royal officiant instructed. 

I hesitated for only a second before placing my hand in his. 

The moment his fingers closed around mine, something in me tightened. 

His hand was nothing like I expected from a prince. The skin was rough and heavily calloused, especially around his fingers and palm, and there was a faint hardness beneath his grip that made me wonder what kind of work had left his hands like that. 

I had barely touched Prince Matt before. We had hardly ever held hands, so I had no idea what his hands actually felt like. Still, I had never imagined a prince’s hand would feel like this. 

“The vows will now be spoken,” the officiant announced. 

I drew a slow breath. 

This was it. 

“The bride may begin.” 

I turned slightly toward the man beside me, though I could see almost nothing through his veil. 

“I take you as my husband,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I promise to stand beside you, to honor our union, and to remain loyal to you through whatever lies ahead. From this day forward, our lives will be joined as one.” 

The hall fell completely silent. 

“And the groom.” 

The man beside me shifted slightly before speaking. 

“I take you as my wife. I promise to stand beside you, to honor our union, and to remain loyal to you through whatever lies ahead. From this day forward, our lives will be joined as one.” 

I went still. 

That voice was not Prince Matt’s. 

Matt's voice was smoother, lighter, and always carried that irritating confidence he seemed so proud of. This man's voice was deeper, rougher, and completely unfamiliar. 

My fingers tightened around his hand. 

Maybe the veil was muffling his voice. 

Maybe he was nervous. 

Maybe I was imagining things because I had been waiting too long for this wedding to finally begin. 

The officiant looked between us before raising his voice for the entire hall to hear. “Before the royal court and the witnesses gathered here, you have spoken your vows and entered this union. You are now husband and wife. The veils may be lifted.” 

I did not waste another second. 

My fingers caught the edge of my veil, and I pulled it up quickly, desperate to finally see the man standing beside me. 

Then I looked at him. 

My breath caught. 

The man standing beside me had dark hair falling messily across his forehead, a thin scar cutting through his left eyebrow, and gray eyes that held absolutely no trace of the man I had agreed to marry. 

I stumbled backward, but the stranger caught my wrist before I could get away. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

He did not answer. His gray eyes stayed fixed on mine, cold and unreadable. 

“Protect the princess!” a guard shouted from somewhere behind us. 

The royal hall erupted as the doors burst open and thick smoke poured inside. Within seconds, the platform disappeared behind a wall of gray. I could barely see the stranger standing in front of me, let alone the guards rushing toward us. 

“Father!” I shouted, turning toward the sound of shouting. 

I took one step, but the stranger caught me around the waist and pulled me back, clamping a hand over my mouth before I could call for the guards. 

“Don't,” he murmured against my ear. 

I clawed at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away as voices filled the hall. 

“Where is the princess?” 

“Find her!” 

“Emilia!” Father shouted through the smoke. 

“Emilia, where are you?” Mother screamed. 

I tried to answer them, but the smoke burned my throat and his hand kept my voice trapped. My eyes watered as I struggled against him, and the candles around us became nothing more than blurred patches of light. 

My head started spinning. 

I could no longer tell where the guards were or where the stranger was taking me. Every breath became harder, my knees weakened, and the voices around me grew farther away. 

“Emilia!” 

Father's voice was the last thing I heard. 

Then my vision faded completely into black.