“You’re mine,” a voice whispered in my head, and I couldn’t look away from those blood red eyes. “Isn’t that right, my princess?”

“She doesn’t know you,” Yesida snapped. “You have no grounds to place an objection.”

“Your bride should be the one to decide that, don’t you think?” The Givel man lifted a hand which was engulfed in black smoke. “Release him and come to me.” His voice was silky and seductive, strangely familiar and enchanting. The world darkened, all except him, his eyes glowing all the brighter. I found myself moving, barely registering my name passing someone else’s lips.

A guard reached for the man, but with a flick of his other hand, each and every guard around us was thrown back, some of them crashing into the crowd. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was taking the hand he offered, to feel his skin against mine. I’m yours.

As our fingers touched, a jolt shot up my arm, fading to a pleasant tingling as it spread across my neck and back. The man gasped as his pupils dilated, and he pulled me to him, gripping my face with his free hand.

“Hands off.”

What? What was I doing?

The man chuckled and glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “You’re not meant to be here.”

“Too bad. Let her go.”

That voice. I knew that voice. The desen assassin, Genet.

I jerked back, but the stranger held tight to my hand while he gripped my other arm. “Listen to me,” he crooned.

“Let me go!” I shrieked.

A knife stabbed into his arm, and he dropped my hand. I slapped him with as much force as I could muster, and he released me. I stepped back but caught the hem of my gown beneath my feet and fell onto my rear.

Yesida rushed to my side to help me stand, then pulled me away behind a wall of the guards who’d recovered their senses. The crowd was slowly evacuating the chapel, while Gasni and several of his agents appeared seemingly from nowhere. The priest had vanished.

“Now look what you’ve done,” the Givel man said. “I won’t easily forgive that.”

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He flicked his hand again, and Genet was thrown back, ripping the knife through flesh. But the man didn’t seem to mind, and the wound closed up within seconds. Genet rolled into a crouch and drew his sword, snarling.

“If I may,” Gasni said, stepping forward and drawing everyone’s attention. “This seems like an issue that can be resolved with a simple conversation. Perhaps we could take a moment to discuss this, instead of resorting to violence.”

The Givel’s eyebrows rose, and he burst out laughing. He bent forward, resting his hands on his knees until he recovered his composure. “Oh, you’re an amusing one.” He turned to face me. “All right, then. Lady Eujia will decide. Either choose the two-faced emperor you don’t even love, or… come with me.” He spoke in those velvet tones again, extending that smoky hand, and my vision narrowed to him.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Genet growled.

I snapped back to my senses, finding myself on the wrong side of the wall of guards. I blinked back to Yesida’s side.

The man tilted his head back with a groan. “I do wish you would stay out of this.” He glanced at Gasni. “Violence it is.”

He drew a sword of his own as the guards charged him. He moved so quickly that I couldn’t trace his actions, but the guards fell in quick succession. Every single one. Then Genet pounced.

The stranger laughed as he blocked several of Genet’s cuts. “This is more like it!” He pushed forward, making Genet stumble back, but he regained his footing in an instant. Their blades clashed again and again, until the stranger drew a knife and cut Genet’s sword arm, distracting him for the fraction of a second the stranger needed to slice at his throat.

I blinked Genet back several feet, and the sword only sliced through air.

The stranger gave me a sour look. “Really?”

Genet charged again, but this time the stranger only blasted him back to the floor. Bone snapped, and he cried out, gripping his right arm that could no longer hold a sword.

The stranger sheathed his sword and approached me and Yesida, who stepped in front of me. “Fine. I accept your choice.” He patted Yesida on the cheek with a smile. “Best of luck to you.” Then he turned, walked right past Gasni’s agents, and left.

But another whisper sounded in my head. “No one else will have you.”

“I have agents trailing him,” Gasni said.

Yesida nodded, but sweat beaded along his forehead. “Good.”

“Are you feeling all right?” I asked. His skin was turning a sickly grayish color.

“I’m…” His breathing became labored, and he clutched his chest. “What’s happening?”

Gasni snapped at an agent, who sprinted for the doors.

“You should sit and—” I froze. Wrinkles were forming across Yesida’s face, and his hair was turning gray—rapidly, like he was aging decades per second. “Oh my gods.”

He collapsed, staring at me with frightened eyes. He looked like an old man, maybe four hundred years old. I kneeled beside him as I shouted at Gasni to hurry up and get a doctor, but when I looked again, the life had faded from his eyes and his skin had gone cold.

Then his wrinkled skin began to rot away, and I yanked my hand back. His cheeks sank inward, revealing raw, blackened muscle. I scrambled back, and someone caught me as I tripped on my gown again. But I couldn’t look away, not until Yesida’s eyes liquified, leaving gaping black holes behind.

I almost couldn’t hear the panicked shouts around me over my own screaming.