A knock at the door interrupts my self-loathing. The male attendant, standing on the other side, clears his throat.
“It is time, my lord.”
My palms are sweating, and I don’t know why. This is just a formality. Just a contract. So why the fuck does my heart feel like it’s about to crack open in my chest?
Sariya has truly outdone herself.
Despite it being bright as fuck—and nothing like what I’d ever imagined my wedding would look like—it’s beautiful. Painfully so. And exactly what Daisy would choose.
The ceremony is set outside, under the endless Solaran sky that bathes everything in golden light. The aisle is a soft path of ivory stone, flanked by swaying grass and wildflowers that bloom in riotous colours—sunset orange, soft blush, buttery yellow. Canopies of sheer fabric ripple gently overhead, strung between tall white columns. The altar is a small sunstone podium nestled beneath a golden arch woven with vines and hanging blossoms. Pale pinks and golds, brilliant oranges and warm reds, all layered like fire caught mid-bloom.
Sariya stands beneath it all, glowing as always, wearing a long golden gown that drapes across one shoulder like a sash, a small book resting in her hands. There’s no crowd, no audience. Just me, her, and soon, Daisy. Thank the gods.
I stride down the aisle, my shiny fucking shoes crunching lightly over scattered petals. When I reach the arch, Sariya greets me with a kiss to each cheek, her perfume warm and floral.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur. “Exactly to her taste. Thank you for all your hard work, Sariya.”
She waves a dismissive hand, smiling. “Ah, it was just my idea. My incredible staff are the true hands behind it all. How are you feeling, sweet child?”
“Fine,” I reply, too quickly.
Not fine. Absolutely not fine. Was I… nervous? Was that what this was? My hands are sweating, my jaw won’t unclench, and I swear my pulse is racing fast enough to rival a battle drum. I don’t get nervous. I’m the heir to Hell, the most feared ruler of all the realms. I have battled beasts, witnessed centuries of torment and pain—and somehow, the idea of marrying this soft, stubborn mortal girl has my heart clawing at my ribs.
“You’re sweating, Korithax. And I don’t think it’s the heat,” Sariya teases.
I laugh under my breath. “Okay. Maybe I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s understandable,” she says, smoothing out her dress with one hand. “Daisy is a beautiful woman. You’re a very lucky devil.”
“Again with the puns,” I mutter, my face deadpan as I pick at a piece of invisible lint.
She grins. “I hope you don’t mind,” she adds, lifting the golden-edged book in her hands, “but I’ve designated myself officiant of this wedding.”
I smile softly at her, truly grateful for everything she’s done. “I couldn’t think of a better person.”
We stand therein silence for a moment, and I crack my neck to release the tension coiling through my body. My hands itch, and my heart slams over and over as I wait for what feels like an eternity.
“It’s time to see your bride, Korithax,” Sariya says gently.
I glance toward her, her radiant face beaming at me. Soft harp music begins to play from somewhere unseen, the notes drifting through the warm air. I turn my gaze from Sariya and watch the end of the aisle, my eyes unblinking. Then I see her.
She turns the corner, standing at the end of the aisle, her arm laced through someone’s whom I immediately recognise. Standing there, arms linked with hers in a black form-fitting suit and a bowtie, is Aran. Of course, it’s Aran. The soft bastard adores her, just like everyone who meets her instantly adores her.
Gods… my mouth goes dry. She’s not just beautiful. She’s not just radiant. She is sunlight—wrapped in silk and hellfire, spun into flesh and flame. And she’s walking toward me, toward forever, toward damnation. And she’s doing it like she was born to be a queen of Hell.
If I live to be fifty thousand years old, I’ll spend the entire time never understanding how the stars bent so violently in my favour as to place her in my path.
For the first time in my long, wretched life… I feel unworthy.
Chapter 36
Daisy
I’m standing at the end of the aisle, heart hammering, palms sweating, legs trembling as I stare at the man who’s about to become my husband.
This morning felt like a fever dream. I woke up to two sweet, glowing servants who brought in breakfast, my shoes, and my wedding dress. I couldn’t eat a thing. My stomach felt like a stormy sea, churning so violently I was sure I’d vomit.
One of the girls, Maren, helped me into the gown. She was tall and soft-spoken. Her skin shimmered with undertones of gold, her hair braided into a crown woven with glinting ribbons. She had a gentleness to her that eased my nerves, even as her fingers fastened each delicate button up my spine.
