Chapter 1
1199 Words
Adele POV
My wedding dress was woven from the finest Valenciennes lace, but it felt itchy and stiff against my skin.
“Straighten your back, Adele. Liora would never slouch like a milkmaid,” my stepmother, Selene, hissed.
Her fingers locked around my corset. The fabric dug into my ribs as she pulled tighter, I bit down hard, forcing silence as the air in my chest shrank.
I stared at the mirror. The girl looking back had no spark or warmth. Just dull eyes in a stranger's face.
"From now on, you are Liora Vale." Baron Darius of Arkwell adjusted his cuffs without looking at me. "No one in Sylvara learns otherwise.”
I was the proof of a night he had spent with a woman he regarded as less than human.
Liora rose from the cushion. She was small in frame, but carried herself with careful control. Her dark hair fell in glossy waves over her shoulder. She walked towards me, gripping my hands tightly.
"Thank you, Adele. I know it's not easy marrying such a man. They say he killed his first bride." She lowered her gaze, like she was sharing a secret, waiting for me to react.
"No need to be thankful, Liora,” Selene said. “Even that gold-digging mother of hers would beg for a chance like this.”
My nails dug into my palms. I glared at her and pulled my hands away from Liora.
Selene smiled as though my silence pleased her. One day, I will make them regret this.
The heavy door groaned open, revealing a guard. "The guests and the priest are all waiting," he announced, keeping his head bowed.
"Remember, if you do this, she gets the physician, and if you do not… the local asylum has plenty of room for madwomen," Baron Darius warned.
"The moment my mother’s medicine stops, I stop being Liora," I said.
“What right do you have to threaten us?” Selene snapped.
“It is not a threat. You need this, just like my mum needs her treatment.”
“Mom, Dad, let’s go,” Liora said quickly, pulling them out of the room. She feared I might change my mind.
I sat perfectly still while the maid brushed powder across my face until I barely recognised myself.
When the final touches were applied, the maid took my elbow. The maid had to guide me forward when my feet refused to move.
Royals and merchants filled the space, plates piled high with untouched delicacies, but none of it touched my mood
The cheers and chatter died. Everyone grew weary waiting for the groom. My leg shook from standing so long.
Finally, a man entered. His presence was heavy, as if he owned the air in the room.
"Greetings, Lord Draven," I said, forcing a polite smile despite the heat rising to my neck.
He met my eyes with a blank stare. "I am not Lord Draven. I am Jasper Venn, Draven's assistant.”
For a second, I thought I heard him wrong. How could they swap one man for another without a word to the bride?
Beside me, my stepmother’s shoulders relaxed. She did not care who took me, as long as it was not her precious Liora.
“Are you…” My voice cracked. “Are you the new groom?”
“No. Your groom is still our Lord Draven,” Jasper said. “His presence is required elsewhere. You will finish this yourself.”
A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.
“His presence is required elsewhere, but it is his own wedding. I cannot have a wedding without a groom,” I said.
“Nonsense. The wedding can still happen with or without him,” Darius said. He leaned close. “Think of your mother before you speak again.”
“Shall we begin?” the priest asked. His voice sounded thin. His eyes kept shifting toward the exit.
“Of course. There is no need to waste time,” Darius said.
I walked to the altar on numb legs. The priest's words echoed hollowly.
"Liora Vale, do you accept Draven Blackthorn as your legal husband?”
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I wanted to back out. The word pressed against my throat, but I forced it out anyway.
“Yes.”
Jasper stepped forward and unfolded a parchment. "In my absence, I, Draven Blackthorn, accept this union and acknowledge Liora Vale as my legal wife."
The document lay before me. My hands shook as I signed a name that wasn't mine. Ink blurred through unshed tears. At least Mum will get treated.
Jasper rolled the parchment. “Lord Draven will sign it later.”
I used the chance to visit my mother.
My footsteps echoed on the stone slowly like a heartbeat till I reached my mother’s door. My hand hovered over the wood. I needed a moment to steady my breath. The panic from the ceremony still clung to me.
I pushed the door open.
The room smelled of dried lavender and medicine. The nanny looked up from her knitting. Her face held quiet patience as she gave me a small, knowing smile.
I turned to my mother. She was lost in a world where I did not exist.
Her knitting basket still sat beside the bed untouched, exactly where she had left it weeks ago.
I leaned down, but her hand shot out and gripped my wrist.
“Help me,” she rasped. “Tell my sweet Adele to hide. They want to kill her because of me.”
“I will not let anyone hurt me, Mom,” I said softly.
I looked away before she could see my face break as I let go. The nanny nodded.
“Thank you, Nana.”
A knock broke the silence. A maid entered.
“The carriage is ready, My Lady. Sylvara men said you should hurry. The tide waits for no one.”
I looked at my mother one last time.
“I will send letters when I reach Sylvara.”
“I will do the same,” Nana said.
I rushed toward the Sylvara carriages.
Outside, Baron Darius gripped my shoulder. Selene dabbed dry eyes. Liora smiled without hiding it.
“Do not disgrace the Vale name,” Darius whispered.
I stepped into the carriage. The door shut. Silence followed.
---
The carriage rolled for an hour. Hooves beat steadily. The contract and the man I was bound to filled my thoughts.
A scream tore through the night.
The carriage jolted.
An arrow struck the headrest inches from my skull.
“Ambush!” Jasper roared.
I peered through the c***k, my heart pounding.
Bodies lay scattered. One man struggled under Jasper’s sword.
“Who sent you?” Jasper growled.
The assassin tried to speak, but an arrow pierced his neck.
Jasper drove his sword into the ground. “Search the woods. Find them. I have the girl.”
I sank back inside the broken carriage. Cold air cut through my torn dress.
They said he killed his first bride. Maybe he never touched her.
Maybe being his wife meant becoming a target.
- Writer
