The atmosphere inside the Grand Hall of the Imperial Palace felt like a stage of opulence built firmly atop the fissures of an impending volcanic eruption.
Only twenty-four hours remained until the grandest political wedding of the decade: the sacred union between Crown Prince Alexander and Lady Clementine Dracox.
Gigantic crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling radiated a blinding golden light, reflecting brilliantly off the black marble pillars adorned with drapes of white silk and rare flower arrangements imported directly from the southern territories.
Dozens of high nobles, war generals, and court officials stood lined along the red carpet, observing the dress rehearsal officiated by the Empire’s high priests.
Clementine Dracox glided across the red carpet in a rehearsal gown of exquisite majesty.
Her striking features radiated an unmistakable aura of triumph that she no longer bothered to conceal.
A faint, proud smirk curled on her lips as she stole a glance toward Alexander, who stood imposing before the main altar.
To Clementine, tomorrow was the absolute validation of her supremacy.
No matter how cold or indifferent Alexander had treated her, the title of Crown Princess and future Empress would officially align with her name.
The territorial legitimacy and pure nobility of the Dracox family would serve as the cornerstone locking the imperial crown onto his head.
Yet beside Clementine, Alexander stood like a soulless ice sculpture.
His formal black attire, intricate with gold thread embroidery, stood in stark contrast to the surrounding sea of white.
His expression remained utterly impassive, untouched by the surrounding euphoria or the admiring whispers echoing through the hall.
His piercing blue eyes stared straight toward the hall’s massive oak doors–icy, sharp, and entirely unreachable.
In the back row of low-ranking servants stationed in the dimmest corner of the hall, positioned directly behind a stone pillar.
Elena Rose stood with her head deeply bowed.
In accordance with her disguise as a coarse black-market servant, Elena wore a dull, worn dress paired with a white apron stained from floor-cleaning solvents.
Her red hair was loosely tied, concealed beneath a stretched, dusty maid cap.
Her hands, still bearing reddish bruised marks from the iron shackles, tightly gripped the handle of a rough wooden broom.
From that hidden vantage point, Elena watched the entire rehearsal with a heavy, suffocating weight on her chest.
Her eyes briefly crossed Alexander’s for a fraction of a second as the Prince turned before the altar.
Alexander offered no gesture, nor did his expression shift; his gaze passed over her as though she were merely an inanimate stone pillar.
Yet Elena knew all too well—that momentary glance carried the exact same dark, possessive undertone that had bound her in his secret room the night before.
‘Tomorrow he marries,’ Elena thought, her chest aching with a bitter blend of dread, emptiness, and profound despair.
‘Tomorrow he officially binds himself to Lady Clementine…
yet why am I still trapped in his grasp?’
While the dress rehearsal proceeded with flawless decorum and legal precision before the public eye, a far more terrifying wave of darkness brewed behind the palace’s thick stone walls.
On the upper balcony overlooking the hall—a dark, strategic position facing the altar—Prince Helios leaned against the carved stone balustrade.
Swirling a glass of red wine, he took a slow sip while staring down at his younger brother standing alongside Clementine.
A sinister smirk, steeped in supreme arrogance and absolute confidence, etched across Helios’s face.
To Helios, this grand wedding rehearsal was nothing more than a laughable theatrical farce.
“Look at how busily they prepare this spectacle,” Helios murmured under his breath, his voice almost buried beneath the booming organ music.
Beside him, a masked knight disguised as a personal guard leaned in cautiously.
“All preparations for tomorrow are one hundred percent complete, Your Highness Helios.
The mercenary forces along the northern border have infiltrated the outer capital disguised as merchant caravans.
The West Gate guards we bribed will grant us entry the moment the main banquet commences.”
Helios chuckled softly, a chilling laugh laced with years of resentment over his standing being eclipsed by the son of a concubine.
“What of the poison?” Helios inquired, his eyes narrowing as he targeted the golden chalice before the altar, which the Emperor would use tomorrow to drink the blessing wine.
“Pure Belladonna has been laced into the Emperor’s private wine supply,” the knight answered firmly.
“Its action is slow and odorless.
The Emperor will suffer sudden heart failure right in the middle of the benediction.
Amidst the chaos and panic, the Empress’s faction and Alexander will immediately be framed for treason, accused of poisoning the Emperor to hasten the succession.”
Helios nodded in satisfaction, casually tapping his fingers against the crystal glass.
The plot was flawless.
Helios had no need to hunt for Alexander’s personal weaknesses or sabotage his political match with the Dracox family.
Why squander energy on petty details when he could crush Alexander, the Second Empress, and their entire supporting faction in a single, clean strike tomorrow?
Once the Emperor was dead and Alexander arrested under treason charges, Helios would step forward as the Empire’s savior.
Backed by the northern nobility and five thousand mercenaries poised outside, the crown would naturally fall into his hands.
“Let Alexander enjoy his final day as Crown Prince,” Helios whispered coldly, glaring at Alexander from afar with a lethal gleam.
“Tomorrow, this grand wedding shall turn into his execution stage.”
The dress rehearsal finally concluded as the sun dipped below the western horizon, leaving behind a crimson sky over the Imperial capital.
Inside the Crown Prince’s private study, Alexander stood before a tactical map of the Empire.
The flickering oil lamps cast long shadows of his towering frame against the obsidian wall.
Hugo entered swiftly through a hidden side door, dropping to one knee before Alexander with slightly hurried breath.
“Latest report, Your Highness,” Hugo informed in a low, tense voice.
“Prince Helios has finalized his troop movements.
They will strike tomorrow evening during the main banquet.
The poison intended for His Majesty has also been slipped into the palace wine supply line.”
Alexander showed no hint of surprise.
His expression remained composed, as if every insane detail of his half-brother’s treasonous plot had long been mapped out in his mind.
“What of our independent military forces in the south?” Alexander asked flatly, shifting a mini piece across the map.
“General Vance and five thousand veteran knights are concealed in ambush positions outside the West Gate.
The moment Helios’s mercenaries enter, we will trap and crush them from both inside and out,” Hugo explained in detail.
“The Merchant Alliance has also cut off all supply lines and emergency funds tied to the northern faction.
Helios will have no escape route.”
Alexander rotated the wine glass on his desk.
A dark, intimidating smirk played on his lips.
“Helios believes he is setting a trap for me at this wedding,” Alexander murmured softly, his voice carrying the weight of a death sentence.
“He fails to realize I deliberately accelerated this marriage with Dracox precisely to draw him out of his lair.”
Alexander knew Helios was an old wolf who would not strike unless baited by a prize large enough.
This political marriage, the presence of Grand Duke Dracox, and Alexander’s deliberate display of complacency before the court were the perfect lures to force Helios into executing his coup tomorrow.
“Ensure Elena remains inside the pavilion’s secret room throughout tomorrow’s battle,” Alexander ordered suddenly, his tone turning razor-sharp.
“Double the concealed guard presence around the pavilion.
If a single one of Helios’s men sets foot near that area…
sever their heads on the spot.”
“Understood, Your Highness!” Hugo responded dutifully before stepping back and vanishing into the dark secret passage.
The night grew late and forbidding.
The massive bell in the palace tower chimed twelve times, its heavy strikes signaling the arrival of the day before the grand wedding.
Inside the concealed chamber of the Inner Palace Pavilion, Elena stood near a small window barred by decorative iron grates.
From there, she could see the glowing main palace building, its lights still burning bright for tomorrow’s feast preparations.
Click.
The hidden door slid open smoothly.
Heavy leather boot steps echoed across the plush velvet carpet.
Elena did not need to turn around to know who had entered.
The rare sandalwood scent and overpowering aura of dominance were more than enough to announce his presence.
Alexander approached from behind.
He had stripped off his formal mantle, leaving only a loose black shirt that clung to his broad chest.
Without a word, he wrapped his strong arms around Elena’s waist, pulling her flush against him without leaving a shred of space between them.
Elena gasped softly, but her body, long accustomed to yielding, lacked the strength to resist.
Alexander rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes as he inhaled her scent deeply–a natural fragrance that never failed to soothe his frayed nerves after hours of planning a bloody war.
“Tomorrow…
you marry,” Elena whispered softly, her voice trembling under a surge of conflicted emotions.
“The entire realm will celebrate your union with Lady Clementine…”
Alexander did not answer immediately.
His thumb moved slowly across her waist beneath her dull dress, holding her tighter as if fearing she might vanish into thin air.
“Let the world see whatever they wish to see tomorrow, Elena,” Alexander said, his voice deep and resonant right against her ear.
“But remember one thing…”
Alexander tilted his head, pressing a cold yet fiercely possessive kiss onto her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine.
“No matter how grand the celebration outside…
no matter how much blood spills in that hall tomorrow…
you will never leave my side.
I have locked your escape doors forever.”
Elena closed her eyes tightly as tears of dread and despair silently traced down her pale cheeks.
Outside, the night wind howled, whipping the imperial banners hung along the palace ramparts.
Tomorrow would be the day a grand royal wedding merged with a bloody coup.
And amidst the swirling madness of political turmoil and the fight for the throne, Elena Rose knew she was boundentirely to the Crown Prince’s destiny–with no path left to return.
Thank you for reading Elena and Alexander’s journey so far.
What fate awaits them when the bloody wedding breaks out tomorrow?
Find out in VOLUME 2!
>.<
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See you in Volume 2 — 14 August!