Caspian's POV
The arrow misses Seraphina's head by inches.
I tackle my new wife to the ground as the cathedral erupts into chaos. Screams fill the air. More arrows fly through the shattered windows. Nobles scramble over each other, running for exits that are already blocked by armed resistance fighters.
"Get off me!" Seraphina shoves against my chest, but I hold her down.
"Stay low," I order, scanning for threats. Three resistance fighters at the north entrance. Five more coming through the windows. They're not attacking randomly—they're moving with purpose, searching for someone.
Searching for her.
"Commander Frost!" I shout over the noise.
Elena appears at my side instantly, sword drawn. Blood spatters her face. "My prince?"
"Get the princess to the safe room. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere with you people!" Seraphina struggles harder. Her green eyes blaze with fury and fear. "Let me go!"
An arrow slams into the floor where her head was seconds ago.
"They're trying to kill you!" I snap at her. "Do you understand? Your own people want you dead!"
"You're lying—"
"Does it look like I'm lying?" I gesture at the carnage around us. A resistance fighter has just cut down Lord Merrick, one of my father's advisors. Another is dragging a screaming noblewoman toward the doors.
This isn't a rescue mission. It's an assassination.
Seraphina's face goes pale as she realizes I'm right.
"Why?" she whispers. "Why would they—"
"Questions later. Survival now." I pull her to her feet, keeping my body between her and the attackers. "Elena, formation seven."
Elena nods and whistles sharply. Ten of my personal guards materialize from the chaos, surrounding us in a tight circle.
We move as one unit toward the side exit. An assassin lunges at us, blade aimed at Seraphina's heart. I catch his wrist and snap it, then throw him into the nearest column. He crumples.
"You killed him," Seraphina gasps.
"He was trying to kill you," I reply flatly. "I'd do worse."
Her eyes widen, but there's no time to explain. We're almost to the exit when a familiar voice stops me cold.
"Seraphina! Get away from him!"
A young man in resistance colors stands on the altar steps, bow drawn. He's aiming at me, but his eyes are locked on my wife.
Seraphina stiffens. "Damien?"
Damien. Her childhood friend. The boy she was supposed to marry before the war.
Of course he's here.
"Come with me," Damien calls out. "I'm getting you out of here. Away from these monsters."
"She's staying with me," I say calmly, though my hand tightens on my sword hilt.
"Over my dead body, Thorne." Damien's arrow doesn't waver. "You've taken everything from her. You don't get to keep her too."
I could kill him. One quick movement and my blade would be through his heart before he could release that arrow. But I see the way Seraphina is looking at him—with recognition, with memory, with something that might be hope.
If I kill him, she'll never forgive me.
"Damien, listen to me," Seraphina says, her voice shaking. "I don't understand what's happening, but those fighters killed innocent people. They attacked during my wedding—"
"A wedding you didn't choose!" Damien interrupts. "They forced you into this. We're here to free you."
"By murdering wedding guests?"
"Collateral damage." A new voice, cold and calculating. A woman in black steps forward, twin daggers in her hands. She's older than Damien, scarred and dangerous-looking. "The Thornhaven nobility has oppressed Aldoria for five years. Their deaths mean nothing."
Seraphina flinches like she's been slapped.
"Commander Silva," I acknowledge the resistance leader. "Still hiding behind children, I see."
Silva smiles without warmth. "Still murdering innocents for your father, Prince?"
The accusation hits harder than I expect. Because she's not entirely wrong.
"This accomplishes nothing," I say evenly. "You're outnumbered. My guards will cut you down before you reach the princess."
"Maybe." Silva twirls her daggers. "Or maybe we're just the distraction."
My blood runs cold. "What?"
An explosion rocks the cathedral's foundation. The floor cracks beneath our feet. Seraphina stumbles, and I catch her automatically.
"The support columns," Elena breathes in horror. "They've rigged the support columns."
Silva laughs. "This cathedral holds a thousand years of Thornhaven history. Seems fitting it should be its tomb."
She's going to bring the entire building down on us.
"You'll die too," I point out.
"Some causes are worth dying for." Silva looks at Seraphina. "Your mother understood that, princess. She died protecting Aldoria. Can you say the same, standing beside her murderer?"
"I didn't murder anyone!" Seraphina shouts, and I feel her magic spike—hot and wild and dangerous. Red light flickers around her clenched fists.
Silva's eyes widen. "You have the blood magic. They said it was lost—"
Another explosion. Closer this time. The cathedral groans like a dying beast. Chunks of stone rain from the ceiling.
"We're out of time," Elena says urgently. "My prince, we have to go now."
But Damien is still blocking our path, arrow trained on my heart. And Silva is smiling like she's already won.
"Choose, Seraphina," Silva calls out. "Come with us and reclaim your throne. Or stay with the man who destroyed your family and die as a traitor."
I feel Seraphina trembling against me. Her wedding dress is torn, covered in dust and blood. She looks so young, so lost.
This isn't fair to her. None of this is fair.
"Go with them if you want," I tell her quietly. "I won't stop you."
She looks up at me, shocked. "What?"
"Your people are calling for you. If you think you'll be safer with them, go. I'll hold back my guards."
It's not a lie. I would. Even though it would mean her walking into almost certain death, even though Silva clearly has no intention of letting her live—I'd let her go if she asked.
Because unlike everyone else in this cathedral, I won't take away her choice.
Seraphina stares at me like she's seeing me for the first time. "You'd really let me go?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Another explosion. The altar collapses in a shower of marble and fire.
"Because you deserve to choose your own fate," I say. "Even if you choose wrong."
For a moment, everything is still despite the chaos. Seraphina searches my face, and I wonder what she sees. A monster? A murderer? The man who led the invasion that destroyed her world?
Or something else?
Then her hand closes around mine.
"I'm staying," she says firmly.
Damien's face crumples. "Sera, no—"
"I'm not going with people who kill innocents and call it justice," she says, louder now. "Whatever you've become, Damien, it's not what we fought for."
Silva's smile vanishes. "Then you're a traitor and you'll die like one."
She throws one of her daggers straight at Seraphina's heart.
I move on instinct, raising my arm. The blade sinks into my forearm instead of my wife's chest. Pain explodes through my arm, but I don't let go of Seraphina.
"Run!" I shout to Elena.
We bolt for the exit as the cathedral begins to truly collapse. Stone pillars crack and fall. The massive chandelier crashes down where we were standing seconds ago. Behind us, I hear Silva screaming orders to her fighters.
We burst through the side door into the palace gardens just as the cathedral's main dome caves in with a deafening roar. The ground shakes. Dust and debris cloud the air.
Seraphina is gasping, her hand still gripping mine so tightly it hurts.
"Your arm," she says, staring at the dagger still embedded in my flesh. Blood drips steadily onto the grass.
"It's fine."
"It's not fine, you're bleeding—"
"Seraphina." I turn to face her fully. "Why did you stay?"
She opens her mouth, closes it. Her eyes are wide and confused and something else I can't name.
"I don't know," she admits. "When they asked me to choose, I just... I couldn't go with them. Not after what they did."
"They were your people."
"No." Her voice is fierce. "My people don't murder innocent servants and children. My people don't blow up buildings full of civilians." She pauses. "When that woman threw the knife at me, you didn't hesitate. You just... took it."
"Of course I did."
"Why?"
I pull the dagger from my arm, gritting my teeth against the pain. "Because you're my wife. And I protect what's mine."
Seraphina's breath catches.
Before she can respond, Elena runs up to us, her face grim. "My prince, we have a problem."
"What now?"
"The resistance fighters we captured... they're not talking. But we found this on Silva's body." She holds up a small scroll, sealed with wax.
I break the seal and read quickly. With each word, my blood runs colder.
"What is it?" Seraphina demands.
I look at my wife—this girl I married an hour ago, this princess who just chose me over her own people—and I have to tell her the truth.
"It's a kill order," I say quietly. "Signed by someone in the resistance leadership. Specifically targeting you."
"But why would they—"
"Because you're the last true heir to Aldoria's throne." I show her the scroll. "And according to this, someone very powerful wants you dead before you can claim it."
Seraphina's face goes white as she reads the words that will change everything.
The signature at the bottom isn't Silva's.
It's written in a hand Seraphina clearly recognizes—shaky and young but unmistakable.
Her dead brother's handwriting.
Lucian's handwriting.
"No," she whispers, the scroll trembling in her hands. "No, that's impossible. Lucian died five years ago. I saw his body—"
"Did you?" I ask gently.
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Her face crumples as she realizes the truth.
"You're not sure," I finish for her.
And in her eyes, I see the exac
t moment her world breaks apart for the second time.
Her brother is alive.
And he just tried to have her killed.