A mixture of helplessness and anticipation twisted my gut. It was a year coming, but it didn't seem real as I stood at the altar as a married woman.

  He only had to lift my veil, slide the ring on my finger, kiss me, and then take me home. Now that I thought about it, we still had plenty to do. I folded my lips, smacking them as I imagined what was expected of me later.

  I didn't want to.

  I hadn't wanted to sign our vows either, but he'd held my hand as I hesitated, and that had to mean something.

  Baron Smolt was always polite to me. I didn't know if I'd find the happiness I always wanted, but he didn't seem the type to be needlessly cruel to me.

  A pair of hands reach out to lift my veil. I can't help my excitement, but the smile on my face freezes as I see the man standing at the altar with me. I know him, but he isn't my fiance. It wasn’t Baron Smolt, who I’d only met a few times but didn’t like all that much.

  It was a different man.

  A man I saw frequently from a distance. He was always beside my sister, wearing a charming smile with his princely demeanor. I'd watch them walking through the garden, followed by a trail of maids and footmen.

  I'd dreamed of being at his side. I'd ensure it was just the two of us if it were me. That would be sweeter. We could talk without worrying about our manner or what the surrounding people would think. But Selena always liked to make a scene. She wasn’t happy if she wasn’t the center of attention. There were always a bunch of people around her, telling her what she wanted to hear and pandering to her.

  Where is she?

  She was supposed to be standing here. She should be the one marrying the prince, not me. The thought that she was at the altar with Baron Smolt was thrilling. Our fates exchanged in a sense.

  I smiled at him, unable to contain the happiness I felt. I don't care how they mixed us up, but he was mine now. He'd get to know me and learn I was better than her.

  The shock melted off his face, and he smiled at me. It’s just as charming as I'd dreamed. My heart raced as his hands fell to his side. Fist balled, unable to control his excitement.

  I knew we had a connection. He'd always go out of his way to greet me when he came to the keep. Selena wouldn't let him spend time with me, but I knew he would have if Selena gave him the chance.

  I fiddled with the marble in my pocket. He'd given it to me. A little secret gift as he'd left the castle after visiting. I cherished it.

  Did he still have the bracelet I gave to him? I spent so much time choosing the beads and making them just right.

  The sun shined through the stained-glass window, bathing us in holy rays that made us look ethereal.

  My smile brightened, and I clutched the bouquet in my hands. There was a murmur in the temple, but I didn't let it bother me.

  This shouldn’t have happened, but we had already said our vows. Our marriage was valid, and no one could separate us. I glanced at the crowd, a frown forming—I noticed the pews where my family had sat were empty now. I'd wondered why they were here, to begin with.

  I looked around, just realizing why this wedding was so grand. But why was the run-through for my wedding held here? This was my dress?

  I didn’t need them here, anyway. A sweet smell rose from the bouquet in my arms, distracting me. I pushed all the useless thoughts away, unwilling to let them ruin this moment for me. It was heady and made my head spin. I raised my arm, keeping my wrist soft, waiting.

  He paused.

  I giggled.

  The prince must be as stunned and happy as I was.

  I realized I didn't know his name. I was always too shy to ask, and they'd never introduced me to him. He’d always been the crown prince to me. The unattainable happiness that couldn't be mine. Something swelled in my chest. He knew who I was! Even though they never introduced us, he cared enough to find out about me. This happiness was mine and couldn't be denied because of petty jealousy.

  Things dragged on, and it’s hard to keep the smile on my face.

  Is something wrong?

  He won’t leave, will he?

  Left at the altar.

  I couldn't stand the thought.

  It wasn't right to speak, but I had to do something.

  This was my chance! Our chance! He probably felt duty-bound to honor his promise to Selena—that's how he was—but I couldn't let his misguided honor and noble temperament interfere with our happiness.

  I moved my hand closer.

  His eyes fluttered and closed for a moment before they opened. His gaze was fierce as he stared at me. Something uneasy unfurled in a familiar place. I knew that look. I tried to pull back my hand, but he held it. It must be my imagination. I pushed the feeling away.

  Nothing that feels this good can be wrong.

  “The rings,” he said, his eyes not leaving mine. His actions were rough as he slid the band onto my finger.

  It's okay, he's as nervous as I am. That had to be it.

  I reached for his ring, but he beat me to it. It slid into place, and my heart dropped.

  That’s it.

  I’m married, and I get to start my life over in a place where people will respect me. It was everything I always wanted.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  So why did this feel so wrong?

  My thumb played with the band on my finger. One day, I will be the Empress. Above a thousand and below only one. I glanced at him; a blush stained my cheeks, and a shy smile curled my lips.

  He was looking away, a muscle in his cheeks pulsing.

  I wasn't smart, but I could tell something was very wrong.

  *

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

  Three hours ago, I stood here, looking at a similar image. It was of a blushing bride who had some reluctance but was also excited. That girl was bright-eyed, with full lips, and hair the color of midnight framed by a glowing white veil.

  Now, I saw a fool.

  The bruise on my cheek was darkening, taking on that mottled red, black, and blue color I am familiar with. If I didn't ice it, I wouldn't be able to move my mouth tomorrow.

  The sparkle left my eyes, and I didn't have the energy to feel uncertain. Our vows bound us together. There was no escaping this marriage.

  I turned away.

  He wouldn't give me ice. He’d be happy if my jaw swelled shut, and I could never say another word. He’d be happier still if I died.

  Now that I was sober, I realized I was high on the atmosphere and my delusions, thinking the crown prince wanted to marry me.

  I could put two and two together to get four. My family left halfway through the wedding and my new husband's shock at the face of his bride let everyone know the party responsible for switching the brides on our wedding days.

  If that wasn't clear enough; the second I stepped into the bridal chamber, my new husband backhanded me, making it clear who'd bear the brunt of the monarch's anger.

  I took a seat and watched the door, waiting for his return.

  *

  “You bitch.”

  I recoiled, shoulders hunched to make myself as small as possible.

  He threw things at the ground and me, but I didn’t dare to move. He didn't care where they landed, so if I stayed still, I wouldn't attract his attention and be less likely to get hit.

  I wasn't the smartest, but listening to his cursing, I realized my father had done more than insult the royal family.

  "Get up."

  I sprang up, knowing what would happen if I hesitated. I also knew what was coming and angled my body to the side. It was better for him to hit my side and back.

  He barreled at me, arm raised. I wanted to duck but made myself stay still.

  He likes the chase. Don't run. It'll be worse if you run. He'll want to do things after if you run.

  “The fucking north is closed. The military is at the border.” He grabbed my throat. I choked, scratching at his arms, unable to stop myself. “It’s a coup. How dare they try to steal my throne!” His eyes were red and wild. It hadn't taken long to realize something was off about him—something wrong—deeper and more terrible than I could imagine.

  He threw me to the ground, and I landed on my back, glass shredding through the dress and digging into my skin. He stepped on my chest. I opened my mouth to beg, but it turned into a scream as he pressed down.

  “You dressed up as your sister and married me. Are you satisfied? Am I everything you wanted in a husband?”

  On the ground, looking up at him, his excitement was obvious. "No. No. No. No. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Please."

  He smiled. The same one I remembered, all charming.

  Oh, have mercy—this was what he wanted to do every time he smiled at Selena. They knew, and they sacrificed me to protect her.

  “That's enough, Marcus.”

  Relief swept through me. A moment later, the prince’s foot was gone. I turned and crawled away, not caring as I scrambled through glass and broken things, carving into me, to put as much distance between us.

  “Marcus, be a dear. Bring that thing hanging around that mongrel's neck.”

  The old woman said something. I tried to focus on her, but things blurred together. My last memory was the prince yanking my mother’s gift off my neck, and the steady sound of a cane tapping.

  *

  The duke’s foot tapped impatiently at the floor. I shook my head, the memories receding, but the emotions and sensations lingered. I could hear the ringing chorus of the choir as I walked down the aisle and the keen of screams I made on my wedding night.

  I learned that night that no matter how bad you thought things were, they could always be worse.

  He let me stew before pointing to the chair when he’d had enough of my cowering. “Have a seat.” He nodded, satisfied with his reward and punishment play.

  I stood slowly, one hand cupping my cheek while the other clenched my dress. I thought of a few terrible things that happened in my life until tears streamed down my face. I hated it. I didn't want to show weakness. They didn’t deserve to see my pain or suffering.

  A bitch waiting for scraps of affection from her master. It was the start of a carefully crafted act, but that didn't mean I had to like it. No. I shouldn't get used to it. It was better that I hated every second.

  It wasn't perfect; I didn’t have experience or allies, and I was inferior to the rest of my family members, but if I didn’t want to go to the capital as the crown princess—I had to do something.

  Becoming a commoner would save me from one fate, but I’d lived as one for years, and they weren’t kind to bastards of nobles. It was a risk to hide my identity, and I was necessary to the duke's plans so he wouldn't just let me escape. I also didn’t have any skills I could use to work and protect myself.

  If Selena marries the crown prince, will the war still happen?

  Wasn't that a thought? The scale and magnitude of the task I was undertaking were daunting, but the worst that could happen was death. My last option, if all else, failed.

  I tuned the duke out as he rambled about duty to my name and house and how much he intended to do so I was ready for marriage.

  I could try finding my mother's tribe—no—that wasn't an option.

  Baron Smolt it was. He was a tad stupid and didn’t have long to live because of a birth defect, but it was better than nothing. I tried to remember when he died, but I couldn't. I got the news a year and a half into my marriage, but I only knew that he died from illness, not when he passed. My body trembled, my stomach rolled, and my throat closed tight. I needed to have a child for him before he passed. There was a big difference between a widow with and without children. The baron also had younger brothers, no doubt eager to see the heir die. My mind rebelled at the thought. I didn’t want to have any more children.

  My son—such a sweet little burden.

  I buried my head in my hands—this wasn't the time or the place.

  I needed to make sure I was the baron's bride.

  I have to be.

  I needed to marry him.

  It's my only option.

  It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best I could do for now.

  But other plans swirled in my mind. Vague fluttering things that I couldn't put into words, my anger materialized into visions and dreams. I wasn't resigned to my suffering, but I couldn't change it. But, why was I the only one to suffer? I couldn't drink poison and expect others to die. I’d make sure they drank a glass for every sip I took.

  Selena and the Duke’s grand plans could go to hell. I'd make sure of it.

  I would.

  I'd figure it out.

  “It has been weeks since I last saw you, and your manners are no better than the last. You can't let your inferiority continue to dictate your actions as you represent the duchy. I don't have high expectations, but try learning something from your etiquette teacher.”

  I bit off a laugh, turning it into a wail or a hiccup. Something terrible and guttural. “But, she’s terrible-”

  "I don't have time for excuses. She has excellent references and the girls under her tutelage are always impeccable."

  That was true. There was plenty to learn from her, but it also showed that she deliberately didn't teach me. I'd always been eager in her class and listened to what she said, even when she used the switch to correct me.

  I listened to him patiently teaching and I can’t help wondering.

  Why do they all like to slap so much?