The sky over the kingdom had broken bright, the sun showering its golden light on the castle green. But inside the great hall, no warmth penetrated Serena's heart. Flowers lined the hall, shimmering drapes, and the thick incense that was diffused in the air. The benches were filled with noble families, their voices a muffled hum of anticipation. The throne dais had been vacated, and in its place the ritual arch stood that Lucien and Serena were to be bound upon.
Serena wore a pale silver gown that clung to her curves, her veil a dripping curtain of mist over her eyes. She was a bride of the very type that the people wished to behold. But the revealing glint in her eyes, behind lowered lashes, was something else. She sat well away, motionless, like a statue. She folded her arms and twisted
