Chapter 1

On the day I tried on my bridal robe, I had just stepped out from behind the silver mirror in Hera’s Temple of Vows when I saw Daphne adjusting the obsidian clasp on my fiancé’s cloak.

Theron Erebius was heir to the Stygian royal house, chosen and ennobled by Hades himself, Lord of the Underworld.

I was about to say, “Let me,” when the priestess beside us smiled and went straight to Daphne.

“This way, my lady. We still need to fit the bridal crown.”

I stopped short.

Theron only curved his lips and offered no explanation.

Daphne smiled shyly and leaned into his side as if she belonged there.

“Don’t move. This angle is perfect.”

Meles, who had grown up with me, lifted an image crystal and caught their likeness in a flash of white light.

The crystal preserved the image of Theron and Daphne standing shoulder to shoulder.

And I, the true bride, stood beside the silver mirror like an outsider who had wandered into the wrong ceremony.

Daphne turned to me. “Selene, bring me that bouquet of white lilies.”

She said it so naturally, as if she were the one entering the marriage covenant today.

I did not move.

When I did not answer, Theron walked over and took the white lilies from my hands.

“Selene, why are you daydreaming again?”

He said, “Go look at the designs for the vow scroll. Daphne can try the robe on in your place. The one she’s wearing suits her well enough.”

I looked at him, and the cold in my chest sank deeper, inch by inch.

Theron did not hear the hurt beneath my silence.

He had already handed the white lilies to Daphne.

Meles frowned slightly, still holding the image crystal.

“Selene, move aside a little. You’re blocking the sacred light.”

I silently retreated into the corner.

Moonlight poured from the temple dome and fell over Daphne, making her look like the bride Hera herself had blessed.

And I stood in the shadows, finally understanding how unnecessary I was.

I turned back behind the silver mirror, removed the bridal robe, and folded it neatly on the stone platform.

When I came out again, Daphne was turning in front of the mirror.

Theron stood behind her, adjusting the golden thread at her waist.

Meles laughed. “Yes, that’s the angle.”

I stood at the doorway and looked at them one last time.

At that moment, I finally understood how unnecessary I was.

If this marriage covenant did not need me, then I would not be there.

I turned and walked out of the Hera’s Temple of Vows.

…

On the carriage ride back to Whitecliff House, one of Hermes’ messengers delivered a glowing parchment scroll.

It was the shared scroll for the wedding rites.

Lady Selene, have you chosen the design for the marriage vow scroll?

My fingertips hovered above the parchment.

Soon, another line of golden writing appeared.

Or Lady Daphne may choose on your behalf. She has already selected two designs and asked that you review them.

Two golden patterns lit upon the scroll.

Again.

Let Daphne choose for me.

My fingers tightened around the scroll.

I loved the sea.

I had once told Theron that I hoped our marriage rites could be held at the Tidal Altar by the shore.

But Daphne had taken one look at the plan and wrinkled her nose.

“What’s so good about the seaside? The wind is strong, and the waves are noisy. Theron is the heir to the Stygian royal house. Of course his wedding rites should be held in the High Temple, among roses and obsidian.”

Theron had barely hesitated.

“Daphne is right. We’ll use the High Temple.”

I wrote three words on the scroll.

As you wish.

In the end, Theron would listen to her anyway.

After I returned to Whitecliff House, golden words appeared one after another on the Hermes message scroll.

Meles had already set the images from the fitting into the shared wedding scroll.

I opened the first one.

In the image, Theron wore a black divine robe, while Daphne stood beside him in a white bridal robe.

They looked at each other and smiled.

Like a pair of newlyweds truly blessed by the gods.

I looked through them one by one.

Almost every image was of them.

Daphne trying on the bridal crown.

Daphne holding the white lilies.

Theron adjusting Daphne’s cloak.

As for me, the true bride, only the edge of my sleeve appeared in a corner.

On the cold-stone cabinet in Whitecliff House, there was still a piece of parchment written by Daphne’s own hand.

Seven days until the wedding covenant.

I stared at those words and suddenly found them unbearable.

I reached out, tore the parchment down, crumpled it, and threw it into the brazier.