A musician started playing the harp softly. The crowd stood and quieted as they turned. At the top of the grand staircase, Seran and King Bryant magically appeared. She wore a tasteful, sleek, white gown with a glittering tiara on her head, while the king wore a navy suit with purple and yellow ropes draped around his neck, signifying the kingdom of New Hope. Cellos and violins joined the harp, adding to the beautiful sound as they began to descend the stairs, Seran’s white train blanketing the steps behind her.
Trev’s heart raced, but not in a good way. He wiped at the sweat forming above his brow. His eyes scanned the crowd again. All heads were turned to the stunning bride, but one. Queen Mariele glanced at him, sadness written across her face. Trev’s eyes questioned her. Where was Renna?
She shook her head slightly.
She wasn’t there.
The music seemed to pick up intensity, matching his feelings inside. Seran was at the beginning of the aisle now, a mere sixty feet from Trev. He had sixty feet to make up his mind.
Fifty-nine.
Fifty-eight.
He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his pants, sucked in all the air around him, and pushed it back out again. His heart continued to thump to the rhythm of the music. It was like the orchestra couldn’t keep up with its furious beats. He looked at the ground, weighing the consequences in his mind. He dared to look at Seran, who had somehow made it to the dais by his side. His father already thought he had ruined everything. At this point, what did it matter if Trev ruined the alliance too?
Then Seran’s own words played back in his head.
Neither of us is free to do what we want with our lives.
What did he want to do with his life?
He pictured growing old with Renna. That’s what he wanted to do with his life.
He loved Renna.
He always would.
The music stopped. Everyone took their seats, and his father opened his mouth to speak.
“There’s something I’d like to say.” Trev’s voice sounded loud against the silence. He took Seran by the hands and whispered so only she could hear. “I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday, but I want to set you free. Set us both free.”
Her eyes filled up with tears, but not the angry kind he’d been expecting. She looked more relieved than anything.
He quickly glanced at his father who tried to warn him through panic-stricken eyes. He glanced at Drake who didn’t seem surprised. He looked at Queen Mariele, tears streaming down her face, and the confused King Bryant next to her.
“Before we start, I just wanted to say . . .”
Trev turned his body to the audience, letting go of one of Seran’s hands. They all looked stunned, waiting on the edge of their seats for the next words out of his mouth. He tried to gather his thoughts, but something caught his eye. A small movement in between the stillness of the statue-like people. The kind of movement that a trained soldier would notice. But what he couldn’t understand, what he couldn’t register fast enough, was the gun in the hand of the man with white and black hair. Or why the gun was pointed directly at Seran.
Trev lunged, throwing his body in front of Seran’s as shots blasted off. A bullet stung his arm instantly as he and Seran tumbled to the ground. There seemed to be a lot of blood. And screaming from all the guests.
There was a lot of screaming.
He wrangled his body on top of Seran’s to protect her. Another round of shots broke out while guards surrounded them, dragging King Carver away, pulling at him and Seran.
“Ez . . . ra . . .” Seran choked from underneath him.
Trev lifted his body enough to see the crimson blood spilling out of her chest.
He tried to stem the wound with his hand, her blood spilling between his fingers. “Help us!”
“Ez . . .” Her frightened eyes looked at him to save her.
Strong arms tried to lift his body away.
“She’s hurt!” he yelled.
More men came and pulled him off her, filling the wound with their hands, dragging him away from her.
Amidst the chaos, he remembered the man with the white and black hair.
“The shooter! Get the shooter!” Trev tried to twist his body back around to see, but they continued to yank him toward the exit.
“Officer Vestry has him,” a guard spoke through breathless pants.
They turned a corner, leaving the pandemonium of the great hall behind. The men ahead of him rushed down the hall with Seran’s seemingly lifeless body—her white train, dyed a crimson red, trailing behind them. Farther ahead, his father, King Bryant, and Queen Mariele ran, surrounded by a group of guards tugging at their arms to keep them moving.
“You’ve been hit,” the guard said as they burst through the door of the closest safe room.
“I’m fine! Help the princess!” Trev’s voice was loud, matching the yells of everyone else in the room.
He tried to get to where they had lain her body on a table, but there were guards everywhere surrounding her.
The guard who dragged him there pushed him back, away from Seran. “We need to look at your arm.”
Trev yelled at him, “Let me help her!” He covered his wound with his other hand.
“There’s nothing you can do for her right now.” The guard tried to reason with him as he pushed him down into a chair and pulled off Trev’s suit jacket. He rolled his sleeve up to look at the wound. “It’s clear. The bullet nicked the side of your arm and went clean out,” he said, ripping his shirt fabric and tying it around Trev’s arm.
Clean out and into Seran’s chest.
The shock started to set in as the crowd of people worked furiously around Seran, cutting her dress, trying to reach where the bullet had entered.
The palace doctors appeared with a new team of people to help. Queen Mariele cried into King Bryant’s shoulder, who seemed crippled by his daughter’s injuries. King Carver paced nearby, emphatically giving orders to his guards.
“We need to get her to the medic hall!” One of the doctors shouted above the commotion.
“Is it safe to move her?” King Bryant asked, putting his hand to his chest.
“We have no choice. She’ll die here if we don’t operate.” The doctor didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he shouted instructions for how they were going to move her to the medic room.
Trev stood abruptly to follow but was stopped by one of the medics. “We have to see to your arm.” The fabric the guard had tied around his arm was already stained with blood.
Trev reluctantly sat down again. A dull pain ached through his arm with each thread of the medic’s needle. He couldn’t get over the fact that the bullet that had gone through his arm was now lodged somewhere in Seran’s chest.
“Is everyone okay?” Drake asked, entering the room in haste.
King Bryant’s voice was solemn. “They just took Seran to the medic hall. She needs surgery.”
Queen Mariele let out a yelp before burying her head into the king’s chest once again.
“What’s going on out there?” King Carver’s voice was panicked. He didn’t even try to act concerned for Seran.
Drake put his hands up in front of everyone as if attempting to calm them down. “I took down the shooter. The other guards have the hall surrounded, and everyone is being questioned.” He looked at Trev. “If you hadn’t noticed the shooter first, I wouldn’t have known where the shots were coming from. I saw you look at him before you jumped in front of Seran.”