Celestia's POV
I slap his hand away.
The sound cracks through the silent Hall like a whip. Nobles gasp. The guards holding my arms tighten their grip, but I don't care.
I'm not going anywhere with you, I spit at the hooded figure.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Then his head tilts slightly, like he's considering something. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. Almost... amused?
You think you have a choice?
I'd rather die than
Then die married. He turns to the Queen and bows. Your Majesty, shall we proceed with the ceremony?
My heart stops. What? Now?
Did you think I'd waste time on this? The Executioner's voice is cold again. The Grand Cathedral is prepared. We marry within the hour.
No! I thrash against the guards, but they drag me forward. I won't! You can't make me say the vows!
He walks ahead without looking back. You'll say them. Or your father dies tonight for his real crimes.
I freeze. What?
He pauses at the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light. I know everything, Lady Celestia. Every forged letter. Every bribed witness. Every conspiracy your father is part of. His hood turns toward me. Say your vows, and he lives long enough for proper justice. Refuse, and I execute him as a traitor before sunrise.
The choice isn't a choice at all. Even after what Father did to me, I can't... I can't just let him die like that.
You're a monster, I whisper.
Yes, he agrees simply. And now you're going to marry me.
The Grand Cathedral feels more like a tomb than a church.
I stand at the entrance in a white silk dress that someone forced me into. It's beautiful—layers of expensive fabric, delicate lace, tiny pearls sewn into the bodice. A wedding dress fit for a Marquess's daughter.
It feels like a funeral shroud.
Move. The guard behind me prods my back.
My feet don't want to work. Down that long aisle, I can see him waiting at the altar. The Executioner. My soon-to-be husband. Still hooded. Still terrifying.
And on either side of the aisle, the nobles who destroyed me watch with hungry eyes.
I take one step. Then another. Each one harder than the last.
The whispers start immediately.
Can you believe
The Ashford girl, marrying him
I heard he's killed over a hundred men
She must be terrified
I am. I'm so terrified I can barely breathe. But I keep my chin up and my eyes forward. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
Halfway down the aisle, I spot my father in the third row. He's watching me with the same cold, empty expression from the trial. Like I'm nothing. Like I never was anything.
I hope you choke on your guilt, I think viciously.
Two rows behind him, Adrian sits next to Isabella. My former fiancé finally looks at me, and I see something flicker across his face. Regret? Guilt?
Too late. Far too late.
Isabella sees me looking and mouths two words: Thank you.
For giving her my life. My fiancé. Everything I had.
The rage that shoots through me is so hot, so fierce, that it burns away some of my fear. They think they've won. They think they've buried me.
We'll see about that.
I reach the altar, and the priest begins immediately. No greeting. No blessing. Just the cold, mechanical words of the ceremony.
We are gathered to witness the union of Lady Celestia Ashford and Lord Thorne Blackwell...
I barely hear him. I'm too focused on the man beside me. Up close, the Executioner is even more massive. Tall and broad-shouldered, muscles visible even through the black leather. His hands are bare now—I can see scars crossing his knuckles.
Hands that have killed.
Do you, Thorne Blackwell, take this woman
I do. His voice is flat. Emotionless.
My turn. The words stick in my throat.
The priest waits. The whole cathedral waits.
I... I swallow hard. I do.
It feels like signing my own death warrant.
Then by the power vested in me by the Crown, I pronounce you husband and wife. The priest closes his book with a snap. You may—
The Executioner doesn't wait. He turns to me and extends his hand. Your hand.
I stare at it. Those scarred, deadly hands.
Now, he says quietly. Unless you want me to drag you out of here.
I place my shaking hand in his.
The moment our skin touches, heat blazes up my arm. Not pain exactly, but something intense and shocking. Like lightning. His hand is warm and rough and large enough to completely engulf mine.
He goes still for just a second, like he felt it too.
Then he's pulling me down the aisle, moving so fast I have to run to keep up. Nobles blur past. The cathedral doors burst open. Cold air hits my face.
A black carriage waits outside, drawn by two massive black horses. It looks like something from a nightmare.
Get in. He opens the door.
I balk. Once I'm inside that carriage, there's no going back. This becomes real.
Please, I hear myself beg. Please, just let me
In. Now.
His tone leaves no room for argument. I climb inside with shaking legs.
The interior is dark, the windows covered with black curtains. There's a bench seat on each side, but the space feels tiny. Suffocating.
He climbs in after me, and the carriage dips under his weight. The door slams shut.
We're alone.
In the darkness, I can barely see him. Just a massive shadow on the opposite bench. His breathing is steady and calm while mine comes in short, panicked gasps.
The carriage lurches forward with a jolt.
We're moving. Leaving the cathedral. Leaving the city. Heading to Shadow Keep—my new prison.
How long? I whisper. How long until we get there?
Four hours.
Four hours trapped in this box with a killer.
I press myself against the side of the carriage, trying to make myself as small as possible. Maybe if I'm quiet, he'll ignore me. Maybe
You slapped my hand. His voice cuts through the darkness. In front of the Queen and the entire court.
My heart hammers. I... I'm sorry, I
Don't apologize. Is that amusement in his voice again? It was the first honest thing anyone's done in my presence in years.
I don't know what to say to that.
Silence falls again, heavy and thick. The carriage rocks gently as we travel. Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. I can't tell anymore.
I'm so tired. So exhausted from fear and grief and rage. My eyes start to close despite myself.
Sleep if you want, he says quietly. You're safe.
The laugh that escapes me is bitter and broken. Safe? With you?
Yes.
The single word is so certain, so absolute, that I almost believe him.
My eyes drift shut. Just for a moment, I tell myself. Just to rest...
I wake to the carriage stopping with a violent jolt.
Confusion fogs my brain. How long was I asleep? Where
Shouts erupt outside. Men's voices, angry and commanding.
Stand and deliver!
My blood turns to ice. Bandits.
The Executioner moves so fast I barely see it. One second he's on the bench. The next he's pushed me down to the floor.
Stay down, he orders. Don't make a sound.
The carriage door explodes inward.
And the first bandit looks inside, sees me cowering on the floor, and smiles.
Well, well. What do we have here?