Chapter 33 A WALK IN THE PAST (II)
" My princess!” Scilla squealed as she approached the princess and hugged her. " You look so beautiful.”
Haven let out a shaky breath of relief. For a moment she had thought the princess actually saw her.
While Athalia chatted with her handmaids, Haven took her time to observe the person who was supposed to be her mother. Imogen was right. Apart from the difference in hair color, she and the princess were a striking resemblance.
It hurt her to know that someone who looked exactly like her didn't think like her at all. How could she not see the evil in the man she was going to marry?
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Hours later, Haven found herself amongst the people in the grand ballroom, waiting for the wedding to begin.
The golden bells of Vaeleria rang loud across the land, their melody rippling through the air like threads of light. Every note shimmered with power, echoing through the crystalline towers, the meadows, and the hearts of every fae gathered to witness the union of their beloved princess.
The palace gardens had been transformed into something out of a dream. Petals of living light floated gently in the air, forming a soft veil of color over the marble courtyard. Vines of silver and moon-bloom flowers twisted around the pillars, glowing faintly with magic. At the center, beneath an arch woven from golden willow branches, stood Athalia.
The princess was radiant — heartbreakingly so. Her gown was spun from the silk of star-weavers, shimmering in hues that shifted between ivory and pale rose with each movement. Her hair flowed like molten sunlight, adorned with delicate pearls and fae blossoms that glowed faintly with her aura. Yet beneath the beauty was something else — something that tugged at Haven’s heart.
Sadness.
Athalia smiled as the crowd rose in reverence, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her golden irises flickered once toward the horizon, as though searching for something… or someone.
Then came Eurolys.
He walked down the aisle with the poise of a man who knew the world admired him. His golden armor gleamed in the light, reflecting the glow of the fae lanterns above. The cheers from the gathered court were deafening — the perfect hero, the noble warrior. But Haven saw through it. She had seen what he truly was, the lies whispered against another woman’s throat, the hunger that had nothing to do with love.
He bowed before Athalia with a practiced smile that made Haven’s stomach twist.
“My heart beats only for you, my princess,” he said softly, loud enough for the court to hear.
Athalia’s lips parted in what might have been a breath or a prayer. “Then may our hearts beat as one.”
The High Seer stepped forward, holding a chalice made of crystal that pulsed faintly with divine energy. “The union of souls, blessed by the light of Vaeleria. Two become one, their magic intertwined, their destinies sealed. Do you, Eurolys of the Seventh House, pledge your heart, your power, and your life to the crown princess of Vaeleria?”
“I do.”
“And you, Athalia of the Light Fae, heir of the Sunstone Throne, do you pledge your heart and spirit to this union?”
There was a pause, so brief most wouldn’t notice. But Haven did.
Athalia’s eyes flickered again, distant, uncertain. Then she nodded. “I do.”
The Seer raised the chalice, and golden mist swirled around them, forming a luminous thread that wrapped their wrists together. The bond of light shimmered brightly, sinking into their skin, the seal of an eternal vow. The crowd erupted into joyous cheers, petals raining from above like a storm of color.
But even as the light danced around them, Haven felt it, the faint ripple in the air, the shadow beneath the glow. The ground seemed to hum with unease.
Athalia’s smile trembled. For a heartbeat, her eyes glowed too brightly, and the golden runes carved into the palace walls flickered — just for an instant — as if warning of something unseen.
The realm bends to her love, the whisper returned in Haven’s mind. And will fall to her sorrow.
Eurolys leaned down to kiss his new bride. The crowd gasped at the display, some crying with joy. But Haven’s chest tightened, because in that kiss she saw not devotion – only conquest. His grip on Athalia’s waist was possessive, hungry, triumphant.
As they parted, Athalia’s aura flickered. The light around her dimmed just slightly. She looked out over the sea of faces — smiling courtiers, clapping nobles — and her gaze passed directly through Haven, eyes wide and empty, as though seeing the future she could not escape.
Somewhere far off, thunder rumbled — soft at first, then louder, echoing across the shining plains of Vaeleria. The bells of celebration rang louder to drown it out, but it was too late. The first cracks had begun to form.
Haven couldn't stop the feeling that Athalia wasn't going to be happy in this marriage, and she knew that.
The laughter and music of the wedding feast faded behind her as Haven moved quietly through the golden corridors of the palace. The air was heavy with incense and fae wine, the scent of moon-blossoms clinging to her as she slipped into the upper halls.
She didn’t know why she followed them. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the gnawing ache in her chest — that strange pull she always felt toward this place, this woman.
Or maybe… It was dread.
Athalia and Eurolys had left the hall moments ago, their hands intertwined, their smiles painted on. But even from afar, Haven had seen it, the stiffness in Athalia’s fingers, the shadow in her eyes.
Now, as she reached the royal wing, the laughter and music gave way to silence. The guards bowed and moved aside for the newly wedded pair, but to Haven, their eyes seemed hollow, as if enchanted to look past what they should not see.
The doors to the royal chamber closed softly behind the couple. Haven slipped into the shadows, her body trembling as she pressed her hand to the smooth stone wall. A faint glow shimmered beneath her palm, and suddenly she passed through the wall like it was just an illusion.
Inside the chamber, Athalia stood by the mirror, her hands clutching the folds of her gown. The golden silk now looked like a cage, heavy and suffocating. Her reflection wavered, blurred by tears she tried not to let fall.
Eurolys stood behind her, removing his ceremonial cloak. His face, once charming in the light of the ceremony, had turned sharp, cruel even. His tone was cold when he spoke.
“You should stop looking like that,” he said flatly. “You’re my wife now. Act like it.”
Athalia didn’t move. “Is that what this is to you, Eurolys? A performance?”
He smirked in the mirror, his gaze meeting hers through the glass. “You wanted this, my princess. You could have refused me.”
“You know I couldn’t,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, but she stood her ground. “The council would have demanded another alliance. You’re the only one I—”
“Love?” he cut her off, turning sharply. “Don’t fool yourself, Athalia. Love is a luxury for those who can afford it. What we have is an arrangement.”
He stepped closer, his hand rising to touch her face. For a fleeting second, it seemed tender—until his fingers tightened against her jaw.
Athalia winced but didn’t look away. “You were with her again,weren’t you?” she whispered. “Before the wedding.”
Haven’s breath caught. She knew!