THE ALPHA’S WRONG BRIDE

POV: Sadie The cold from the stone floor is freezing through my slippers, and somehow, that’s what’s occupying my thoughts right now. Not the two hundred people that are crammed into this hall. Not the torches casting shadows across the walls. And also not even the ceremony that’s about to decide the future of two kingdoms. None of that. But literally just my cold feet because apparently, my body has decided that this is going to be the big issue of the day. “Stop fiddling with that,” Chloe hisses without looking my way. “I’m not fiddling.” “You’re strangling my shawl,” she replies, glancing down. I look down to see why she’s complaining and sure enough, I realize that I am, in fact, gripping her shawl a little too tightly. So I loosen my fingers immediately. “You look perfect,” I tell her, meaning every single word. And beaches It’s also my job right now, probably something I’ve been doing since six this morning. “Twelve pins. Three of them fought me.” “They always do.” She lets out a small breath, and for a moment, she almost smiles, and that’s the version of her that shows up when no one important is watching. “You didn’t have to help, you know. Mother has people for this.” “Yeah, but her people can’t even get the left side even. I checked,” I reply. “You checked.” “I have skills, Chloe. Rare skills sister,” I say with mock seriousness. She snorts quietly, and for a moment, I let myself relax. Maybe this morning won’t be so bad after all. Then the ceremony master clears his throat so loudly that I’m sure that even the people in the next kingdom probably heard it, and suddenly, the entire room goes still as two hundred people fall silent. I focus intently on his hat. It’s absurdly large, with a feather longer than my forearm swaying around every time he moves. It’s much easier to concentrate on that than on my mother who’s standing stiff as a board on my left side, while my father is next to her doing what he does best, which is absolutely nothing. Then the doors at the back creaks open, and the entire room seems to hold its breath. Wesley Hart walks in like he owns the place. His black hair is neatly pushed back, his pale eyes giving nothing away as he strides forward with the kind of confidence that makes it clear he knows exactly what he’s doing. My stomach twists strangely, and I immediately try to bury the feeling in the deepest pit of my stomach. Now is definitely not the time for whatever that is. “That’s him,” Chloe says in a hush, barely moving her lips. “I figured that out,” I say, trying to keep things light. “Just… don’t make jokes right now,” she replies with a hint of urgency slipping into her tone. “Funny is my specialty Chloe, besides hairpins, of course.” She doesn’t laugh, though. Not like she expected her to. But it’s fine. Her hands are trembling just a little, and without thinking, I reach over and squeeze her fingers lightly before letting go. And to my surprise, she lets me. And somehow it makes my heart flutter because she doesn’t always do that when she’s nervous. “Chloe Coleman. Sadie Coleman. The both of you step forward.” The ceremony master’s voice cracks slightly on my name, as if he had to remember I was even here. Fair enough. We step forward together. The stone is even colder near the dais, and I catch Walter Pierce’s eyes off to the side, standing guard near the scrolls, that he’s guiding as if they were his children. Except he isn’t looking at Chloe, because he’s looking at me. Steadily and intensely making the hairs on my body rise. My fingers tighten against the fabric of my dress before I can stop them. Why is he looking at me like that? I don’t have time to process it anymore because Wesley is already speaking to the crowd, his voice carrying through the hall with a confidence that makes the ceremony master look increasingly uncomfortable. “Two kingdoms. One choice.” He says, sounding less like a man who is about to change someone’s life and more like someone who’s bored with his own event. “Let’s not pretend this hasn’t already been decided by everyone in this room.” A low, nervous ripple of laughter moves through the crowd, and Chloe on the other hand lifts her chin just a little higher. “My lord,” the ceremony master tries to interject, sounding appalled, “the formal address requires…” “I know what it requires,” Wesley cuts him off, finally looking at us now. His gaze goes directly to Chloe at first, the way everybody else does. Of course, what else was I expecting? At least he doesn’t get to make me feel small with his stare. Chloe’s the bride who everyone has envisioned for months now. “Lord Hart,” Chloe says, smoothly dipping her head in respect, looking perfect. She is the picture of a girl who has rehearsed this moment her whole life. Wesley doesn’t respond, instead what happens is that his eyes drift past her and land on me. And they stay there. For a moment, I actually glance over my shoulder, wondering if there’s another someone standing behind me that he’s looking at. But of course I feel my heart sink in disappointment when I see that there’s nobody but a wall and an old tapestry of some king I don’t recognize. “You’re the younger one,” he says, confirming what seems like a fact rather than asking a question. “I…yes.” Wow. What a terrible opening line, Sadie. “Sadie.” He says my name this time, slowly and as if he’s testing it. And somewhere behind me, my mother makes a noise I’ve never heard before and that makes Chloe go completely still beside me. “My lord,” the ceremony master interjects once more, “the elder daughter is the traditional…” “I know what’s traditional,” Wesley replies, not even looking at him. “And I also know I’m the one making the choice, and not the archives.” “Wesley.” Diane, his mother says his name from the place she is at the front row, with warning lacing her tone. But he totally ignores her too. “Sadie Coleman,” he calls out again, his voice firm and loud enough for the entire hall to hear. “I choose her.” For one second, nobody moves. And then before I know it the entire hall seems to fold inward, everyone leaning closer, waiting for someone to react, and I’m still holding onto Chloe’s shawl like letting go might somehow make this whole thing become real. There’s one brief second where something other than dread sparks inside me if me, and I hate myself so much for it immediately, shoving the feeling back down before it can take a form. “No.” Chloe eventually breaks the silence as she says from beside me. Her vice coming out quiet and almost polite as if she’s correcting a line in a ledger. Wesley finally looks at her for the first time since he focused his gaze on me, and I feel the tension in the room shift. “That’s not a request you can make,” he says firmly. “But I loved you first.” She says with a calm tone, but that’s what makes it unsettling. It’s so controlled, and somehow, I find it more terrifying than if she had shouted. “Everyone in this room knows that.” My chest tightens. I don’t look at her. I can’t. I can’t make my sister hate me more than I already feel she does. I notice something flicker in Wesley’s eyes, but it disappears almost immediately as if it just wasn’t there. His jaw tightens, his frustration showing in the way his mouth is set hard. “That’s exactly why,” he replies, his eyes return to me. “It’s her.” The silence that follows after presses down harder on the room and I catch a glimpse of my sister’s expression briefly shattering from the corners of my eyes, and there’s a flash of hurt and betrayal that flashes on her face before she’s masking it with her usual calm demeanor. But I saw that moment. Over the years, Chloe has shown me all kinds of emotions, fondness, annoyance, boredom, rivalry, but I’ve never seen her look at me as if I were the enemy. Yet here we are. And that’s exactly how she’s looking at me right now. My throat continues tightening the more, and I swallow against it, my fingers still curled around the shawl I forgot I was holding. Deep down in the pit of my stomach, I realize that whatever connection I thought we had is slipping away from my fingers, and it dawns on me that this break wasn’t an accident. He wanted us to be torn apart.