Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
CYRENE
Ikept my eyes on the stone pathway beneath my feet as I walked down the aisle, trying not to die by veil strangulation before I could even meet my groom.
At least the pixies were managing my train, their tiny hands keeping the silk from tangling around my ankles. If one of them let go, I’d probably trip and tumble straight into matrimony face-first, which honestly felt like the right metaphor for today.
The weight of everyone’s stares pressed down on my shoulders, and a soft murmur rose from the assembled guests, a mix of witches, vampires, and other magical folk who’d come to witness this political alliance disguised as a wedding.
The garden hummed with enchantment. Pixie lights cast rainbow prisms across the white flower petals scattered across the aisle, while the moonbell blossoms released silvery chimes with each passing breeze.
Even the air was showing off, all honey-sweet and sparkling with static like it had also dressed up for the occasion.
Somewhere nearby, butterfly violins played a melody that held both joy and melancholy, as if the music itself couldn’t decide which emotion this occasion deserved.
My magic itched to bubble up in sparkles, but this wasn’t exactly a sparkle-worthy event.
I’d known I’d have to marry soon. My grandmother had kept hinting. I just didn’t expect my turn to arrive so fast. I’d hoped to avoid elder matchmaking for as long as I could. Wedding someone was the last thing I’d wanted since…
Best not to think about that or I’d turn into a puddle of regret right here in the aisle. I’d do my duty, but if my new vampire husband expected anything more than that from me, he was in for a big surprise. If he tried to bite me, I’d bite back.
Metaphorically, of course.
Probably.
Grandmother seemed to think this would be her first successful love match, but I didn’t agree.
Though if I were being completely honest with myself, which I rarely was these days when it came to my heart, a tiny, foolish part of me had wondered if lightning might strike twice. Maybe I’d discover unexpected happiness in an arranged match. Everyone else did.
That treacherous little hope had kept me awake the past nights as I imagined a partner who might understand my magic, my passion for creating joy. Someone who might look at me as if he truly cared.
But I knew better than to trust in fairy tales. Not anymore.
It truly didn’t matter who I was marrying.
I’d never love him. Six years ago, I’d given my heart, and I had no intention of making that mistake again.
This arrangement would be purely practical.
I could create my joy-infused objects, he could rule his vampire kingdom, and in public, we’d both pretend that this was a real marriage.
My stomach twisted itself into knots with each step I took down the aisle.
Quandary perched on my right shoulder, the miniature drake’s tiny claws poking through the fabric.
He kept fidgeting, which meant my companion sensed my reluctance.
His sapphire scales caught the light from the floating fairy lanterns overhead, and he released an anxious chirp.
Something feels wrong, Quandary’s thoughts brushed through my mind. Your heart is beating like hummingbird wings.
Just nerves, I silently replied, the familiar telepathic bond between us vibrating with my tension. Stay calm. No flame bursts today, please. There are too many vampires in the vicinity.
He snorted. That’s a good way to send them scurrying, now isn’t it?
No singeing anyone, both here or at our new home.
I’ll try not to, he grumbled, though a wisp of smoke escaped his nostrils. But you’re scared. Can I bite him if he’s mean?
Absolutely not.
A nibble?
Not even a taste.
He sighed, a puff of blue smoke curling toward my veil. You never let me have any fun.
I bit back my smile. Let’s wait and see what he’s like.
The ceremony was taking place in Grandmother’s sprawling garden, transformed for the occasion into something that belonged in a fairy tale. Lights twinkled among the periwinkly bushes, and the tiny faces of the pixies holding up the corners of my train beamed with excitement.
Even migratory bats had been enlisted. They hung upside down from the flowering arbor with silk ribbons tied around their necks. They’d been bribed with fruit compote, according to Grandmother. Nothing said love is eternal like slightly tipsy bats in bow ties.
It should’ve been magical. It should’ve been beautiful. Instead, it felt like a funeral. Mine, most likely.
Adele sniffled somewhere behind me. My sister was crying for my sake, probably torn between hope that I’d find happiness and horror that our grandmother was handing me over to a vampire king.
And knowing Sasha, my oldest, protective sister, was wringing her hands and shooting glares at Grandmother.
She’d fought this match like a firecat defending her kit, demanding explanations that never came.
The woman who’d been like a mother to me since our parents died was probably calculating how quickly she could spirit the youngest of us sisters—me—away if things went badly.
I couldn’t believe how quickly it had happened.
Barely a week had passed since Grandmother announced the match.
The vampire king had requested—no, he’d practically demanded—an expedited ceremony.
Something about diplomatic urgency, though it felt more like an ambush.
One moment I was crafting joy lanterns in my workshop, the next I was being measured for a wedding gown.
Twenty more steps. Fifteen. Ten.
Too late to fake fainting. I’d missed my window. Soon I’d have to look up and face the stranger who would become my husband, the vampire king who would whisk me off to his gloomy castle.
Five steps.
Dread pooled in my chest. Quandary’s scales grew warmer on my shoulder, a sign he was getting agitated. Pray to the fates he didn’t start sputtering flames.
In a moment, I’d have to lift my head, smile politely, and pretend this was what I wanted.
Three steps.
Two.
I stopped at the altar and finally, reluctantly, lifted my eyes to meet my soon-to-be-husband. The air froze mid-breath. Even the fairy lights paused, as if they were waiting for me to scream.
The world tilted sideways.
Oh stars above. Absolutely not.
The Fates were having a good laugh tonight.
But those pale blue eyes, that strong jawline, and the way his black hair caught the light…
I’d dreamed about that face for six years. His shoulders were broader now, though his waist was still narrow. Everything about him looked sharper. Sterner. He looked like the kind of man who filed away his emotions in alphabetical order.
The gentle man I remembered had been replaced by someone who appeared to have forgotten how to smile.
And he was staring at me. Really staring, with an intensity that made my breath catch. As if he could see right through the magic-mask veil, through the spell I’d woven into the fabric myself.
The veil was my finest work and enchanted to shield my true appearance from everyone present. Those looking at me would see only a pleasant blur where my features should be; their minds filling in whatever they expected to see in a blushing witch bride.
Yet somehow, Kieran’s gaze remained fixed on my actual eyes, as if the powerful spell didn’t work on him. Which was rude, considering how much effort I’d put into that glamour. Days of trial and error, gone the moment he looked at me.
I’d spent six years wondering what had happened to him, why he’d vanished without a word, why the three most perfect days of my life had ended so fast.
In my mind’s eye, I saw him as he’d been then, laughing as he tried on one of my enchanted scarves, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his entire being radiating warmth and openness.
The way he’d lifted a joy lantern up toward the stars, his face illuminated by its glow as he told me he’d never seen magic used to create such pure happiness before.
How he’d asked me a thousand questions about my craft, acting genuinely interested in every detail of my process.
That man had been alive, present, and real.
This one stood rigid, his shoulders squared beneath his formal suit that seemed to weigh him down. His expression remained guarded, his posture that of someone who’d learned to carry heavy burdens alone. Two different men wore the same face.
It was Kieran, though. The man from the festival. The one who’d told me he was a wizard, who’d bought my self-warming scarves and joy lanterns and told me they were the most beautiful magic he’d ever seen. The one who’d held my hand as we watched the dancing wisps during the midnight sky show.
The one who’d broken my heart when he disappeared.
A wizard. I’d thought he was a wizard.
Instead, he was a vampire. He had been all along.
Every sweet word, every gentle touch, every promise had been a lie wrapped in charm and a very kissable smile.
And now I was supposed to marry him.
Perfect. Just perfect.