Stripped of My Wedding, I Wed the Abyssal Lord

On my wedding day, my mother walked into the dressing room and took my gown off the rack.

She didn't look at me. She lifted the starlight gown down and folded it over her arm like it was laundry.

That gown was the crown's highest honor for the wife of a paladin captain. I had waited seven years to wear it.

"Mother, what are you doing?" I reached for it.

She pushed my hand away. "The High Priest read the stars this morning. Yours cross with Roland's. If you stand at the altar in this gown today, you'll bring ruin down on Velmoria."

The cold went straight through me.

Crossed stars. I was the chief healer of the Temple of Light. My magic was the purest in the empire. My stars could not cross a paladin's, and the priest knew it.

"Maren, I'm so sorry."

My adopted sister, Coralie, stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame like she could barely hold herself up. Her eyes were red. She had worked on that face.

"I don't want this either," she said. "But the priest says only I have the twin-star fate. Only if I take your place can the disaster be turned."

She coughed, soft and careful, and looked up at me.

"You've always been the strong one. You'll give me the gown. For the empire. For Roland. Won't you?"

I stared at her.

Always this. Anything that was mine, she took, and she always had a pretty reason ready.

I was the real Aldermere daughter. They lost me as a baby and found me again at fifteen. Coralie was the one they had taken in to fill the hole I left. Her mana ran dry from birth, so my parents decided I would give her half of mine every month to keep her on her feet.

My room was the small one. My robes were the old ones. Even my seat at the Royal Academy went to her before I could take it.

You're older, Maren. You're strong. Let her have it.

Five years of that. I kept thinking if I stayed quiet enough, good enough, they would finally see me. I kept thinking once I married Roland I would be out of this house for good.

"Where is Roland?" My voice came out thin. "I want to see him. We made our vows in front of the gods."

The door opened.

Roland came in. He was in his dress armor, handsome the way he always was, and he would not meet my eyes.

"Tell me it isn't true," I said.

He looked at the floor. "The priest is never wrong. The Order needs this. I'm sorry it has to be you."

Sorry it has to be me.

I had walked into the Mistwood alone to find the cure that drew the poison out of his blood. I had burned through my own life-force healing him and spent three months in bed for it. He had held my hand then, his eyes wet, and sworn he would never fail me. He had promised to make me the happiest bride in Velmoria.

Now he stood next to Coralie and watched my mother strip my gown off the rack.

"Don't keep everyone waiting." Coralie pulled the train out of my hands. Her mouth curved.

"Don't make this harder than it is, Maren." My father filled the doorway now. He didn't ask. He never asked.

My heart broke.

Five years of swallowing it came up all at once, and then it was just gone. Every feeling I had for Roland. Every hope I had saved for my parents. I was too tired to even cry.

"Fine," I said, and let go.

My mother blinked. She had not expected me to fold so fast.

I stepped back and watched the three of them fit the starlight gown onto Coralie, smiling, easy, like the family they had always been without me.

Roland frowned at how calm I was. He started to say something. Then he turned away and put his hand on Coralie's waist to steady her.

None of them saw the other hand I kept in my sleeve.

In my palm was a small whistle carved from bone, cold against my skin. A dying man had pressed it into my hand at the edge of the Abyss three years ago, the one soul I ever saved who asked me for nothing after.

Blow it if you ever lose hope, he had said. I'll come for you.

I was a healer of the Light. I had told myself I would never have a reason.

But the Light had let go of me first.

I closed my hand and crushed it.