Cold metal armor brushes against the side of Quinn as she makes her way down the aisle. Endless rows of chairs on either side of her hold family members, friends, nobility, and anyone else wanting to take part in what should be the happiest day of her life. Freshly cut red roses adorn every wall and ledge of the grand hall, some intertwining with other vines to form an elegant arch at the end of the aisle. Mini lanterns hang from the wooden beams across the ceilings, shining like mini stars. And her husband-to-be stands underneath the arch, his emerald eyes locked onto her as if she’s the most precious jewel to ever enter the palace.

This is every girls’ fantasy come to life.

Every girl, except her.

Each step she takes down the doomed white aisle feels like it’s stealing her breath, draining the life right from her soul. Onlookers might mistake her lapsed breathing as nerves, however it’s anything but.

In too few steps the white path ends and she’s left standing at the altar. Her father places his protected hand over her arm, the cold metal squeezing down in what the guests would assume is affection, but she recognizes it as a threat. The moment only happens for a second then she’s being handed to the man who paid dearly just to have her at his side.

She feels her vocal cords tighten, wanting to scream, rage, cry, fight. To do anything that would make him listen to her. To make anyone in this godforsaken palace listen to her, but she doesn't. Instead, she faces Prince Evander, intertwining her fingers with his, and giving him what she hopes is an endearing smile. Though it doesn't take long for her smile to falter and her stomach to sour. Evander’s returning smile could outshine the sun. Love radiating every feature of his face, which only makes the pit in her stomach deepen.

He believes them to be madly in love. He doesn't see hatred buried behind her guarded face or the longing in her empty promises. He, along with everyone else, thinks that just because he’s a prince Quinn should fall completely and ignorantly in love with him.

They are all so wrong. The idea of the palace, riches, the prince, or even the title of queen doesn’t fascinate Quinn. Just because he’s a prince doesn’t mean she should be enchanted by the way he smirks and laughs, or the way his emerald eyes seem to always be the brightest in the kingdom. While his chiseled features and golden hair are deathly addicting, they can’t make up for the fact this marriage wasn’t her choice.

It was his and her fathers. Arranged for the combining of two nations. For peace, is what her father told her, as if a treaty couldn't have solved that issue perfectly fine. So, she was sold into marriage. A large sum of money was sent to her homeland from the king in trade for her hand.

She could never love the man standing in front of her.

Evander starts tracing small circles on the back of her hand, in comfort she assumes, as the wedding officiant rattles on about life ties and other nonsense that has her becoming increasingly nauseous. It is hard not to see the love embedded into her fiancé's face as they stare at each other.

Once she learnt of the marriage some odd weeks ago, her father imminently sent her off to the palace in hopes they got to know each before their agreed wedding date. Since she arrived, Evander hasn’t let her out of his sight. He stands by her door waiting for her to arise every morning and every night he walks her back to her bedchamber. During the day he delights in taking her on outings or having picnics in the gardens. He’s even convinced his councils to let her attend meets which are usually out of discussion until they are wed.

She once asked if maybe they could delay their wedding, testing to see if he could understand her feelings, but he just brushed her off. “Why would I want to wait to marry the love of my life?” he responded.

He can't understand. No one can.

The senseless rambling comes to an end and Quinn finds herself missing it as two doves start flying down the aisle, the stained glass window shining a beaming light on the rings hanging between their talons. Guests all around gasp in amazement as the birds drop the rings into the officiant's hand.

She dares a glance at her father who sits stone-faced, looking out of place in the rows of color with his iron armor. He only permitted himself and her servant, Eliza, to leave from their homeland to attend the wedding. Quinn’s mother was forced to say back along her little sister who sent a letter raving about how she was the luckiest girl in the world to be marrying Prince Evander. In the letter she requested immediate visitation once they were wed. She has always been charmed by the fantasy of love and happy endings, while Quinn’s attentions lie within bureaucracy and combat. One, if not the only thing, she took from her father.

Moments before Quinn stepped into the grand hall, Eliza tirelessly worked to convince her a dagger strapped beneath her growth was unnecessary, but eventually lost that battle. Quinn played it up to be a comforting mechanism, but her endless years of training couldn’t dare make her abandon her only sense of protection. Maybe her dad might find appreciation in one decision she’ll make today.

The officiant directs his speech from the guests to the prince, “Evander Astralyn, do you take Quinn Belladonna to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and hold, to serve and protect along your side, for better and worse, for peace of the combined nations, and to be Athan’s future queen, until death do you part?”

Evander’s hands press lightly onto Quinn's, “I do.” He declares like it’s the only decision that will ever matter within his lifetime. There’s a part of Quinn that adores the tenderness in his voice. A part of her that wonders if this would have happened in a different lifetime, under different circumstances that maybe she could find herself growing to love him.

However, there’s no circumstances in this life that could change the way she wants to tear her hands from his. No declaration of love or fondness that could persuade her to rebuke the decisions she’s made.

The light air swiftly turns tense and heavy as the officiant's eyes sway to Quinn. “Quinn Belladonna, do you take Evander Astralyn to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and hold, to serve and protect along your side, for better and worse, for peace of the combined nations, and to be Athan’s future king, until death do you part?”

Silence hums through the crowd, all of them leaning forward, waiting for her words. The twinkling lanterns pause, as if waiting for her answer. Even the beam of light that was illuminating the rings drags to her, as if she wasn’t already the center of attention.

“I…” She starts. “I-”

Shattered stained glass pieces fall to the floor as an archer swings in, already noticing another arrow into his bow string and firing. Piercing screams break through the air as the arrow hits true, ending the life of the king. Hundreds of golden armor floods into the grand hall and swords begin swinging, taking out unexpected guests with each blow.

Palace guards begin rushing into the palace to defend their kingdom, but not before the archer lands another arrow into the queen who stood over her dead husband's body, her hands shaking as she reached for his head.

“Quinn!” She hears someone yell, but she can’t move. Her eyes find her father. He’s on his feet, his ridiculous armor proving useful, as a golden soldier tries swinging for his head before being cut down. She watches as his eyes land on his chest plate, the emblem etched into the metal causing disappointment to sweep into his features. His eyes find hers.

She has waged a war. She can see it festering behind his pupils. Though, it doesn’t last long. Those few precious unguarded seconds earned him his death. From behind, a soldier comes up striking his unprotected neck. His last moments of breath, of thought, wasted on me.

"Quinn!” Evander roars, tugging at her arm, "We have to go! Now!” She doesn't move. She stands staring at the blood pouring from her dad’s body. At the soldier standing over it. Her heart launches to her throat. “I won’t let you die!” Evander moves to pick her up, reaching for her waist.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” A heavy voice thunders from the soldier standing at her father’s body. Evander freezes, his hands falling straight at his sides. The soldier begins making his way to the altar as her father’s blood drips from his sword.

“Quinn, please run.” Evander begs with each step the soldier takes. She doesn't dare move.

“I’m so sorry,” she tells him, unsheathing the dagger at her thigh, and throwing it into his chest. His eyes go wide, searching hers with his final moments. No words leave his mouth and she doesn't try to comfort him with lies and false promises. She watches as he bleeds out, the blood staining crimson on her gown.

His eyes close shut and she remembers the soldier coming for her. She reaches for the dagger lodged in her fiancé's chest, but the golden soldier beats her to it. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” He says, palming her dagger, and stepping closer to her. “Would you like to see how it feels?” She can hear the smirk in his voice. Feel the wild looked masked by his helmet.

Her heart begins to speed. Her head spinning in a thousand different directions. Her eyes on the dagger. He rounds on her, blocking her from running, and slowly backing her up against the stone wall. Rose petals fall as her back hits the stone.

His body presses into her and she curses herself for her lack of breath. Her lack of thought. “Tell me,” he whispers, his helmet just inches from her ear, “why aren’t you scared of me?”

“I trust you,” She says, as his knife points to her throat. The cold metal barely teases her skin, the thought making her neck flush red. His stance goes ridge, as her hand traces up the side of his armor, neither of them moving, the dagger never actually pressing into her skin.

“Yet, one twist of my wrist and your life is mine.”

Her fingers reach the base of his helmet and she tugs it off. “It already is,” she whispers, her heart leaping at the sight of those wild blue eyes she’s missed so much. The dagger drops to the marble floor and his lips crash onto hers.