The Deadly King

The Wedding

Prequel, set before The Runaway Queen

Seraphina sat in front of the mirror as the maids fussed over her hair and the tiara. She wiped away the tears as she looked at the red stones. Her mother's tiara, one that she always wore to events. Seraphina never thought that she'd wear it on her wedding day. She expected that her mother would wear it.

But that wasn't going to happen. Not now that she was dead.

The veil was pinned under the chignon, and the top layer was lifted over her head. Seraphina didn't know how they'd managed to put this outfit together so quickly or where they'd found the items. She didn't want to ask how they knew her measurements because they certainly couldn't ask her personal attendant. Another who had not survived the coup.

"You look lovely, Your Highness," the maid said with a sympathetic smile. "Would you like a handkerchief?"

"Please," Seraphina said softly.

The maid nodded and scuttled into the dressing room, returning with the dainty scrap of material.

"I know that the past few days have been extremely distressing, but the young prince is vastly different to his father. Quite handsome too."

"He is no prince." Seraphina offered coldly. "He is just the son of a monster."

"Of course. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, that is all."

The maid nodded, and with a curtsey, she fled the room. As she passed through the door, the maid saw General Castilla approaching.

"Is the princess ready?"

"She is."

"And the mood?"

"Well, she's currently crying and has been for some time. She is fine unless the king or the prince are mentioned."

"To be expected, given the circumstances. She should be happy to survive."

The maid said nothing as the General moved to the princess's door. Rolling her eyes, the maid continued down the corridor. She could say a few things to the General, and none of them were pretty.

Among the staff, he was seen as a traitor. Instead of protecting the royal family, he sided with the enemy. The monarchy fell because he decided that crossing over the line to save his own neck was better than doing his job.

Orin knocked on the door, finding Seraphina sitting at the dressing table. Entering the room, Orin stopped when he was behind Seraphina. Her angry gaze lifted to him.

"What do you want?"

"I've been requested to escort you to the sanctum."

"And who will walk me down the aisle now that you murdered my father?"

"I did not kill him."

Seraphina stood, glaring at Orin.

"You might not have pushed the sword into his heart, but you let it happen. You are nothing but a vile little worm, and you are not permitted in my private chambers. Get out."

Orin gripped Seraphina's arm.

"On any other day, I would oblige you, but not today."

Dragging Seraphina out of her room, Orin took to the throne room. The blood had been cleaned from the stone floor, but the stench of death still lingered.

Tears streamed down Seraphina's cheeks as Orin ushered her to the heavy wooden doors. Guards opened them as they approached. Orin stopped and let go of Seraphina's arm.