Chapter 30 Chapter 30

Chapter 30 Chapter 30
Bailey’s POV

The sun was setting—marking not just the end of a day, but the beginning of a brand-new, completely insane chapter in my life.

This definitely wasn’t the wedding I used to fantasize about as a little girl. Back then, I dreamed of white lace, a smiling groom, and maybe a few flowers—not getting married in a parallel universe to a dark lord who could read my mind.

Before fantasy novels and comic books took over my teenage brain, I was just like every other girl, imagining I’d find the boy of my dreams and live happily ever after. Then puberty hit, hormones kicked in, and my romantic daydreams were replaced by dragons, fairies, and fighting evil alongside fictional heroes.

My parents were ridiculously strict when it came to boys and staying out late, so my social life was basically on life support. My brothers, however—one older, one younger—had the time of their lives. They were always out drinking, flirting, causing chaos. Meanwhile, I was under what felt like permanent house arrest. Every time I asked why, my parents just said it was for my “own good.” Whatever that meant.

College was my escape plan. My mom wanted me to stay home, but for once, my brothers backed me up. “Let her live a little,” they said. Which was rich, coming from the two who never stopped living. I missed them now, though. I missed all of them—Mom, Dad, my brothers. The thought of never seeing them again twisted a knot in my stomach.

“Hey! Focus!” Kara snapped, yanking me back to reality. “Turn around so I can fix this dress, you moron!”

“Sorry…” I muttered, spinning on my heel.

The dress she’d forced me into was… well, stunning. Not my dream wedding gown, but gorgeous all the same. Here in Domnhal, the color of a wedding dress wasn’t white—it was lilac, symbolizing innocence, tranquility, and spirituality. Figures.

The mermaid-shaped gown hugged my body like it had been designed with evil intent. The bodice was covered in delicate, floral embroidery, flowing down into a softer, simpler skirt that trailed behind me like something out of a fairy tale. The transparent sleeves shimmered faintly in the fading light. But the plunging neckline? Oh, Kara absolutely did that on purpose.

“Um… wasn’t there a version with more coverage?” I asked, nodding toward my cleavage.

Kara gave me the kind of glare that could melt iron. “This was the only dress available on short notice. Not many weddings happen in Domnhal these days. You’re lucky I managed to make this one work, so suck it up!”

She yanked the corset strings so tight I gasped. “Okay! Breathing’s overrated anyway!”

“Good. Now sit so I can do your hair and makeup.”

I sat down in front of the enormous vanity beneath an even bigger window—one I’d shattered yesterday, now perfectly restored. Magic really was the world’s cheapest renovation tool.

“Why are we even bothering with all this?” I mumbled. “Couldn’t I just wear jeans? It’s a private ceremony.”

Kara froze, then turned slowly, glaring like I’d insulted her ancestors. “I don’t know how things work in your world, but here, tradition matters. If you enter your union looking like a mess, your life together will follow suit. Look your best, and you invite good fortune.”

“Right. Totally logical,” I muttered.

While she worked, my mind wandered. This world still confused me. Everyone followed these ancient traditions, and yet Nathaniel—the literal Lord of Darkness—ruled them all. How much power did he have, really, to keep everyone in line? What drove him to take on the heart’s curse in the first place?

By the time Kara finished, I barely recognized myself. The makeup was soft and natural—light brown shadows, pink gloss, just enough to make my green eyes pop. My hair fell in soft waves, braided slightly at the back and pinned with tiny lilac flowers.

I looked… beautiful. But not happy.

Because no matter how good the reflection looked, this wasn’t a fairy tale. This was a cage. And there was no way out.

“There. Half an hour to spare,” Kara said proudly.

Two maids entered the room, bowing low. Their matching dark-blue dresses were neat and simple, their movements graceful but nervous.

“Take her future royal highness to the garden,” Kara ordered. “After that, my brother will take over.”

Future royal highness? The title made me wince.

I stood—and froze. My body screamed at me to run. I didn’t want this. I wanted to go home.

“What are you waiting for? Move your ass!” Kara barked.

I swallowed hard and followed the maids down the hall in silence. They whispered quietly to each other, sneaking glances at me, as if I were a wild animal about to bite.

Why was I even doing this? For Spike, I reminded myself. The boy didn’t deserve to die for helping me.

“We’re here, my lady,” one of the maids said softly.

Before me stretched the most beautiful garden I’d ever seen—an archway woven with blossoms, petals cascading like a curtain of color. Magic shimmered faintly in the air, warm and alive.

Benjamin was waiting by the gate, smiling kindly. “My sister outdid herself. You look exquisite,” he said, offering his hand.

I blushed. “Oh, no need to worry. I’m married,” he added with a wink.

“You’re married? I thought people didn’t really… marry here,” I said as we walked.

“Few do. But some of us still believe in love.” His voice softened. “My wife and I were meant to be. It made me better. Stronger.”

The words stung. My own marriage would be nothing like that.

Nathaniel stood ahead, a dark, regal silhouette beside Lucian. A priest waited at the altar, robed in gold, hands clasped. Beside him stood a man in a cloak with a black patch over one eye—his gaze sharp, assessing.

“Marcus, stop staring at my bride or I’ll take your other eye,” Nathaniel said, his voice low and dangerous.

Marcus bowed. “My apologies, your Highness.”

The priest swallowed nervously. “My lord, it is tradition to have two witnesses.”

Nathaniel’s eyes turned pitch black. My pulse skipped.

Lucian gently placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” Nathaniel muttered.

The priest cleared his throat. “Join hands, please.”

I turned toward Nathaniel, my palms slick with sweat. When our hands met, a golden ribbon coiled around them, glowing softly. Magic thrummed through my veins, electric and intimate.

Nathaniel’s expression didn’t change. Calm. Controlled. Infuriatingly smug.

Fear crept up my spine. I was about to be bound to this man—forever.

‘Don’t even think about it.’ His voice sliced through my thoughts.

Damn it. He was in my head again.

‘You said you’d kill Spike if I refused,’ I shot back.

‘Correct. Or maybe I’ll visit your family on Prime Earth instead.’

My blood ran cold.

The priest was chanting in another language, his voice rising and falling like a spell. I barely heard the words.

‘How do you know about them?’

Nathaniel’s smirk deepened. ‘Two brothers. A mother. A father. I have my ways.’

‘You can’t travel between worlds now,’ I countered. ‘You’re too weak. We share the heart’s power.’

‘Then I’ll send someone else.’

Damn him. He had me trapped again.

The priest’s voice shifted back to the common tongue. “Do you, Lucian Pierce, swear to be their guardian and a source of aid in times of need?”

“I do,” Lucian said evenly.

“Do you, King Nathaniel Thorn, accept this woman to be your wife, to love and cherish her until death do you part?”

“I do.”

The words rolled off his tongue like a threat.

“And do you, Bailey Durant, accept this man as your husband—and the title of Queen of Domnhal—until death do you part?”

Wait. Queen?!

‘Stop yelling and answer,’ Nathaniel growled inside my mind.

My chest tightened. My family’s faces flashed before me.

“I… I do,” I whispered.

The priest smiled shakily. “Then, by the power given to me by the Universe, I now pronounce you husband and wife—one body, one soul. You may seal your union with a kiss.”

Before I could breathe, Nathaniel pulled me into him. His lips crashed onto mine, stealing the air from my lungs. I tried to fight, to shove him away, but his grip was iron. Then—somewhere between resistance and panic—my body betrayed me. The kiss deepened. His tongue brushed mine, sending fire down my spine. One hand cupped my cheek; the other tangled in my hair.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped me.

When he finally released me, I was trembling, breathless.

He looked utterly composed. Smirking. Victorious.

He knew exactly what he’d done.

And I hated him for it.