A month before our wedding, Lord Damian secretly rode to his childhood sweetheart. Fearing scandal, he hired a sorcerer to create his perfect double. "What if Lady Seraphina finds out?" his squire worried. "She won’t," Damian sneered. "Even if she does, she’d never break the betrothal. The court knows she clings to me like a burr—tiresome, but harmless. Clara deserves better. Seraphina should be grateful to be my mistress." Behind the tapestry, I trembled. I, who knew every star in his eyes, would surely spot an imposter. Yet this was his cruel plan. On our wedding day, Damian returned with Clara just as I approached Thorne Cathedral in silver and pearls. He dragged me onto cobblestones, my veil torn, jeweled circlet scraping bloody trails down my face. Then I saw it—his automaton rushing toward me. 1 "Seraphina! How dare you proceed with this wedding behind my back?" The voice was familiar, laced with a fury I knew well. Damian was back. A ripple of confusion and excitement went through the crowd of onlookers. "Who is that man? To speak to a daughter of House Ashton in such a way, does he court death?" "He looks familiar… just like Lord Damian, the groom! Can it be him?" "Impossible. On his wedding day, Lord Damian should be waiting at the altar. This man isn't even wearing his wedding doublet. He must be here to cause trouble!" Hearing the whispers, Damian's face darkened. A guard from House Thorne moved to intervene but hesitated upon seeing his lord's face. "My lord, what are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be—" "Did my messenger not reach you?" Damian cut him off, his glare fixed on me. "I sent word that this wedding was to be canceled at all costs! Why is the entire city celebrating our union today?" My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles turning white. I never imagined he would shame me so publicly. Today was meant to be our wedding day, a betrothal I had fought tooth and nail to secure. It began two years ago. My grandmother lay gravely ill, and in my grief, I rode to the old abbey in the hills to pray. The mountain road was treacherous. A wheel of my carriage struck a rut, and I was thrown violently from my seat. I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact. Instead, I fell into a warm, strong embrace. I opened my eyes cautiously. As I did, the string of the man's simple riding mask snapped, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty. Flustered, he murmured, "Be careful, my lady," and was gone before I could find my voice. It was love at first sight. Later, at a court banquet, I saw him again. He was Lord Damian, the heir to the Dukedom of Thorne. He didn't seem to recognize me. From that day on, I cast aside the decorum of a highborn lady and pursued him with a singular focus. I shamelessly orchestrated "chance" encounters, desperate to make him see me. I spent nights embroidering a handkerchief with his sigil and had it delivered to him. Then, I overheard the whispers. He had a childhood love, Clara, the daughter of a Knight-Banneret. My courage failed me. I retreated, ceasing my pursuit. But he sought me out. He cornered me in the palace gardens, showing me the embroidered handkerchief tucked into his belt. It was the one I had made. He smiled, a slow, intoxicating smile. "Seraphina of House Ashton, what is the meaning of this favor?" Mortified, I reached for it, but he deftly blocked my hand. "You have another you are sworn to! Give it back! Forgive my intrusions these past months!" For the first time, his smile reached his eyes. "She is but a friend. And you… do you truly not understand my heart?" That night, emboldened, I begged my father to petition the King for a royal decree, uniting our houses through marriage. I believed our love was mutual. I never imagined that on the day the decree was announced, Clara would quietly leave the capital. And Damian, panicked, finally realizing where his heart truly lay, rode after her, leaving a perfect imitation in his place to fool a kingdom, and a bride. I was the biggest fool of all. 2 "So, Lord Damian knew nothing of this wedding? Is House Ashton forcing his hand?" "And the lady beside him… that must be his true love. Has he been bewitched by this Seraphina?" Hearing the crowd's speculation, Clara swayed, a picture of tragic beauty. "Damian, my love… perhaps I should not have returned. I will leave at once…" "Forgive me, this is your wedding day. I have been thoughtless…" She turned to go, then collapsed as if her strength had given out. "Clara!" Damian caught her, scooping her into his arms. He turned to me, his voice dripping with disappointment. "Seraphina, Clara is innocent in this. How could you allow these rumors to spread? A lady's honor is paramount. Do you mean to destroy her?" Watching him clutch her so tightly, my eyes began to sting. Did he ever once consider what would become of my honor if I had begged my father to rescind a royal decree? I remained silent, but my handmaiden, Elspeth, could not. "My lord, you go too far!" she cried. "When did you ever send word to cancel this union? Why, just three days ago, you were at Ashton Manor, telling my lady to prepare herself with a joyful heart!" The crowd murmured in agreement. "It's true! For the past month, the young lord has been visiting every jeweler in the city, buying every piece that would suit Lady Seraphina!" "And the pastry shop on the West Street she loves so much! Lord Damian has been there before dawn every morning, just so she could have them fresh from the oven!" "He took her boating on the river just last week! The love in his eyes was plain for all to see!" "My lord, this is your wedding day! Put aside this quarrel, change into your finery, and wed your bride!" The chorus of voices made Damian's face flush with anger. But in his arms, Clara, with a sly, secret smile, let out a small gasp. "Oh! But… for the past month, Damian has been with me, taking the air in the southern provinces. How could he possibly have been in the capital?" Her voice was not loud, but it silenced the entire square. The whispers began anew. "I saw the young lord riding back into the city from the country this morning. Why would he be traveling so close to his own wedding?" "But the man in the capital was Lord Damian. We all saw him." "Wait… are you an imposter?" Amid the rising suspicion, Damian sneered and produced the heavy signet ring of his house. "Open your eyes and see what this is!" Elspeth gasped in disbelief. "Impossible! There must be some mistake! My lord, you were with my lady every day for the past month!" My nails, I realized, had dug so deeply into my palms they had drawn blood. My marriage to House Thorne was decreed by the King himself. Would Damian truly admit to using a double, an automaton, in his place? It would not only be a mortal insult to my family, but a slap in the face to the King. 3 "Damian, my love, you must tell them the truth. Tell them where you have been." Clara tugged shyly at his sleeve. "Clara and I have indeed spent the last month in the south. We only returned today." His words sealed my fate. "Lady Seraphina," Clara said, her voice filled with false pity. "I know you adore my Damian, but you cannot hire a stand-in while he is away! To have this… imposter… play the part of your loving fiancé for all to see… why would you do this to yourself? Damian doesn't love you. You must let him go." The crowd erupted. It was all too scandalous to believe. Damian said nothing, merely tightening his grip on Clara's hand in tacit agreement. I stared at him, my heart a cold, dead weight. He had caused this entire mess, yet he was content to let all the blame fall on me. Was there truly not an ounce of affection for me in his heart? "How dare you spread such lies! Do you seek to ruin my lady's name?" Elspeth's eyes were red with fury. "Insolence!" Damian roared. "You are but a servant! Seize her!" Guards surged forward and restrained Elspeth. "Let her go!" I commanded. "Clara, you may slander me, but House Ashton is not so easily trifled with!" Clara flinched, which only made Damian's expression soften toward her and harden toward me. "Seraphina," he said, his voice now like ice, "you claim you did not find a substitute. Where is your proof?" He smiled, a smirk of absolute victory. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Could it be that the man… "I knew it," someone in the crowd jeered. "She was always trailing after him like a stray dog. Lord Damian was never more than civil to her. It was strange how he suddenly seemed so besotted." "Look at them! Lord Damian and Lady Clara, they are the perfect match. A true love story!" "And that substitute… so intimate with her… could she have been cuckolding the lord before they were even wed? No wonder he refuses to marry her!" The tide of public opinion turned, drowning me in a sea of accusation. But I could no longer hear them. The hour was growing late. The King had decreed this marriage. I had to see it through. "You know full well what you have done," I said, my teeth clenched. "But I will marry into House Thorne today." "What I know is that the lady of House Ashton has no shame! You used my absence to parade a fraud before the court, ignored my command to cancel this farce, and now you have the gall to force your way into my family! If it weren't for you, would Clara have ever fled to the south in sorrow? Come. We will go to my parents at once, and you will tell them you will not be wedding a Thorne today. The matter will be discussed at a later date." He reached for my arm, but I recoiled. Through the shimmering veil, I saw that the embroidered handkerchief I had spent a dozen nights crafting was gone from his belt. In its place was a simple, woven lover's knot. And on Clara's wrist was a matching one. 4 "I will marry into House Thorne today. But I am not marrying you!" The square fell silent. Even Damian seemed to hold his breath. Clara's sweet, cloying voice broke the stillness. "Lady Seraphina, you must be jesting. Lord Damian is the only son of the Duke. If not him, who would you marry?" The words seemed to jolt Damian back to his senses. "Do you intend to marry my father?" he roared, his face contorted with rage. "You shameless harlot! I know your father indulges you, but I never knew you were so utterly without morals! To say such a treasonous thing merely to spite me! When you see my parents, you will kneel and beg their forgiveness. Otherwise, you will never be a lady of my house!" His words were like shards of ice in my heart. The flicker of affection I thought I had seen in him was nothing more than a phantom, a reflection in a pond. And still, fool that I was, I had clung to that illusion. I ignored him, turning to enter the cathedral. The bells would soon toll the final hour. But a sudden vertigo washed over me. I was yanked backward, my body thrown to the ground, my head cracking against the stone steps. Blood blurred my vision. Damian’s eyes hardened, as if coming to a final, irrevocable decision. "Disobedient to her husband, disrespectful to his family. You are not fit to be my Duchess." "You may enter my house today, but you will do so as my mistress!" With a savage cry, he reached for my wedding gown. "I will inform the King! A woman like you is unworthy of being a Thorne. The one who deserves to be the lady of this house is Clara! She is generous, but I will not see her slighted. Take off that gown! Today, I will wed Clara. After our wedding night, I will send a simple carriage to bring you to the manor through the servants' gate!" I struggled, but the blow to my head had stolen my strength. I could only shield myself feebly as he ripped at the delicate fabric. My veil lay in the dust. I saw them clearly now. The man I adored, tearing the wedding gown from my body for another woman. And that other woman, a triumphant smirk on her face, mouthing silent words at me: "He. Is. Mine." Elspeth screamed, "Let my lady go!" but she was gagged and forced to the ground. The beautiful jewels in my hair were now a heavy burden, coming loose as I fought, the sharp pins grazing my skin, a pain that was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. "Damian, stop this!" I warned, my voice hoarse. "House Ashton will not forgive this insult." But he was without mercy. "For raising a daughter like you, I should be the one demanding answers from House Ashton! A shameless creature like you does not deserve this gown! Do not delay my wedding to Clara!" My strength gave out. I could only watch as he tore the silver-threaded silk from my body and draped it tenderly over Clara's shoulders, whispering to her. "Clara, my love. Marry me today like this. In time, I will give you the grandest wedding this city has ever seen. What say you?" Clara blushed, burying her face in his shoulder. They looked like a pair of lovers from a ballad. I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a path through the blood and grime on my cheek. My mother had commissioned the city's finest seamstress to create this gown. I had spent countless nights tracing the embroidery, dreaming of the day I would wear it. I never dreamed this would be its end. "Seraphina! Are you going to lie at my door all day? Men! Drag her to the back gate! Do not bring bad fortune upon my wedding day!" Two household guards moved to drag me away. I feebly tried to push them off. "I thought highborn ladies were paragons of virtue! Turns out she's as desperate as any common trollop! Can't win the lord's heart, so she hires an imposter!" "Hah! Seems these noble ladies are no different from the whores in the brothels!" The unvarnished cruelty of the crowd threatened to swallow me whole. They began to throw rotten fruit and vegetables, their fury unsated. I couldn't dodge in time, only managing to shield my face with my arms. Was this it? Was I to die here, shamed and alone? "Insolence! What do you think you are doing?" A voice, sharp and anxious, cut through the din. I forced my eyes open. In the distance, a figure in crimson wedding finery was sprinting toward me.
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