Maisie

I had not planned for this.

In my defense, I had planned for approximately none of the last two months of my life, so this was really just consistent behavior.

Tessa was shrieking beneath me at a pitch that I was fairly certain could shatter glass.

And goddess, she was beautiful, which somehow made everything worse. Silver hair fanned across the red carpet, her gown spread out on the aisle, and she was staring at me with pure murder.

"Get off me!" she screamed. "Get off, you miserable wretch!"

I tried scrambling backward. My chain caught on something—her dress, her gorgeous, elaborate, multiple-layered dress—and I yanked it free with a sound that was definitely tearing. "That was absolutely not intentional—"

She shrieked again.

I tugged my hand away, but the length of pearl decorating her hair came off, wrenching strands of her hair with it. "That... was totally an accident—"

"My hair!" She cried.

"I know, I know," I said, and then, for some reason I couldn’t explain, I reached out, and yanked a fistful of her hair on purpose this time, with the dark intent of tearing it off her scalp to see if her brain was the same silver color.

But before I could follow through with it, I was yanked off her. A guard grabbed my wrist and the chain, wrenching it up behind me, and a second took my other arm with a grip that felt like iron.

I fought. I bit. I got a satisfying grunt from one of them when my heel connected with his shin, but there were more pouring through the side entrance now and I realized very quickly that even if I had made it to the crowd, not much had changed.

"Take her out!"

The order came from somewhere high up in the amphitheater, hard and dangerously calm. I craned my neck and saw her.

The Queen.

She sat in a private elevated gallery, flanked by five men, each more stunning than the other, wearing rich, blood red robes and a crown.

There was something eerie about the crown on her brow. It was like any other golden circlet, but the stone in the center of it was a blood ruby, shaped like an eye.

The Queen’s iridescent eyes found mine across the chaos and held them, and I felt the promise in that gaze like she had spoken against my ear. "I will make you pay for this very slowly, very thoroughly."

"Get that mad creature out of my hall," she repeated, voice oddly pleasant, like poison. "Now."

I swiveled to the crowd and opened my mouth to scream for help, but a thick hand slapped over my mouth.

An entire line of guards were set off, running to demarcate each line of the crowd, either to keep them all in order or to catch me if I ran, but it didn’t make sense to me until I heard not too far from me, a small, "May?"

The fresh wave of noises almost buried it, but I turned and saw Regina and Jenny, both dressed for the wedding, staring with shock.

When they moved and got blocked off by the guards, I realized the placement of the guards was to prevent me from getting any help.

"Hey! Let her go!" Regina yelled in alarm. "That’s Maisie Adams. She’s with us—"

The Queen’s voice echoed through the hall, addressing the priestess, who I now noticed was standing at the altar at the center of the hall, with the three of them. "Proceed with the rite and ignore the interruption from the ballistic woman. Surely, it is not the first time in history that a jilted lover tried to ruin a wedding."

Laughter rippled across the hall, the fresh wave of noise covering Regina and Jenny’s angry yells as they were pushed back into the crowd by two guards until I couldn’t see them anymore.

I glanced up at The Queen.

Her brow was arched at me, as if to ask, Did you really think it would be that easy, wolf?

I felt like a rabbit ensnared in an inescapable trap. It was easy, so easy, to turn the opinion of the crowd with one line, and suddenly, I was no longer a victim, but a crazy ex, who needed to be taken out by the guards for the crime of sabotage.

If I had been an illegal prisoner here before, I was now being held for an actual crime.

Tessa gave me a cruel smile as she took her flowers from where they had rolled off the path and began her walk back down the aisle, to where Soren stood.

He hadn’t moved.

He stood exactly where he’d stopped moments ago, twenty feet from where Tessa and I had gone down and he was watching. Not the chaos. Not Tessa. Not the guards dragging me backward across the carpet.

Me.

His face was still. Completely, eerily still. And even from here, I could see his eyes weren’t right. They were too dark. Something was watching me from beneath the surface of him and was looking out through his face.

It was the same with the Mercer, Jericho and Quinlan when I glanced up at the altar behind him.

I knew not to expect anything from them. Not help. Not interference. They didn’t care. And I understood that they would never go against the Queen for me.

So I didn’t look at them pleadingly as the guards dragged me to the entrance.

No one was coming for me, I thought as the music resumed behind me. I would just have to find a different out—

"Stop."

It was one word spoken softly, but power in the deep resonant voice struck the entire hall with force.

The entire hall stopped.

Even the violin.

The guards stopped who were holding me stopped, too, as if fixed to the spot like immovable statues.

I turned, confused.

And I found that Soren was still staring at me, still frozen in the same spot. Though, his eyes were pitch black, narrowed and calculating. Something cold crawled up my spine at the predatory angle of his head.

And then, he blinked slowly, and it was like watching a person who had fallen asleep come awake. Alive.

Something savage and wild flickered across his expression and then, Soren began to walk.

Tessa exhaled. Her shoulders dropped half an inch in relief.

And Soren walked past her.

A different kind of silence descended in the hall as Tessa turned slowly, her expression moving through confusion, then disbelief, then something that looked very much like the beginning of panic.

"Soren," she said softly.

He didn’t break his stride.

I stumbled back a step as I realized he was walking straight for me.

Tessa crossed the distance swiftly, grabbing Soren’s arm and halting him. "Soren." Her voice cracked, small and more frightened than I’d ever heard it. "What are you doing? The ceremony—"

He cocked his head to stare at her hand.

Then he looked at her.

He reached up and took Tessa’s wrist very gently, prying it off his coat.

And then, he snapped her wrist like a twig.

An echo of gasps and screams exploded through the hall like wild fire.

The Queen was instantly on her feet at Tessa’s sharp cry. Several other distinguished dressed people lurched forward.

Tessa fell back, clutching her mangled wrist, staring after Soren—who was still walking the length of the aisle—with horror.

"Prince Soren." The Queen’s voice cut through the amphitheater and it had lost its cool, bored quality. It was infused with terrifying power and barely-contained fury.

Thousands of eyes turned toward the royal box.

"You are strongly adviced to cease this madness at once," she commanded, her tone sharper than shattered glass. "You will return to your bride this instant."

I didn’t think Soren heard her. Or if he did, he simply didn’t care.

His steps had become more fluid and graceful, like a majestic prowl. The clouds cleared from the skies and the moonlight poured in, illuminating him, teasing his frame with light.

I couldn’t breathe.

Stop him," the Queen ordered harshly.

The guards, as if waiting for this very order, broke out of formation, moving in an entire horde to stop Soren.

One of the guard laid a hand on his shoulder and the resulting scream tore whatever semblance of calm that had taken over the hall into shreds.

Blood sprayed the carpet and a cacophony of terror ensued when the guard found himself missing his hand.

Students screamed. Guests and members of the Court watched the ruckus with rapt attention.

And there was me. Frozen in the same spot, unable to move my legs. Completely ensnared by those pitch black eyes like I had fallen into a trance I couldn’t break out of.

In the coming days, I would wonder if it was fear. Or fascination. Or both.

In my peripheral, I noticed the guards who dared to step even an inch toward Soren were dispatched with the speed of light. There had to be dozens of them swarming the aisle.

Soren, still hadn’t broken stride. He didn’t even look back, trusting them to cover for him.

I didn’t think it was even trust. For the first time, I noticed something in the dynamic of the four men I had been living with.

Soren simply... led. And they... followed.

He controlled. He made the decisions.

And as I watched the streaks of blood staining his cheeks and hair, the dark veins tracing his face and disappearing down into his collar, I understood that he had made one. And whatever it was, I didn’t want to be a part of it.

I turned on my heel and started to flee.

But Soren appeared in front of me, forcing a scream out of me. He grinned and he looked like a monster. He was a monster.