Standing at the altar as maid-of-honor, I snuck a glance at Tem. He was dressed as a groom should be: fitted, flawless Caval, perfectly coiffed hair. But his expression was not of a groom. Behind Tem, Fabe stood grimly, looking like someone had died. I tried to catch his eye so I could give him a look that said Act happy! Then I smirked at the irony of the thought. Sitting in the front row were my father, Makerholf and Trevain, not bothering to plaster fake smiles because no one could see them anyway. Lucky them.

Tem and I avoided each other's gaze like a plague. Memories of our moment in my room brought flames to my face, butterflies to my stomach. But standing at the altar as the maid of honor, not the bride, still weighed heavily on my stomach.

The royal gardens were packed with white folding chairs. A red carpet led from the entrance to the wedding arch. Bouquets of white roses, carnations, and peonies lined the aisle. White silk draped over the perfectly trimmed hedges billowed and swayed in the breeze. I wished I could yank them off their hooks and wrap them around my face so I could stop pretending.

Judging from the people streaming in, it looked like the whole Aragonian population had shown up for the wedding of the century. There were people dressed in Cavals, plain cotton tunics, sparkling dresses, shimmering satin, burlap pants. I suspected the Aragonians had come not to celebrate, but to access for themselves the legitimacy of this shotgun wedding. And that was why I had to keep my emotions to myself. At least until the wedding was over.

The ceremony music began: Pachelbel's Canon in D. The bride arrived around the corner, stepping carefully on the cobblestone path. Marylea wore an elaborate white dress and a flowing veil that concealed her face. Just as well; it wouldn't do for the Aragonians to see the tears trailing down her face.

As I shifted in my uncomfortable pointed heels, doubts began to creep in. Poisonous, barbed doubts that spread chills throughout my body.

What if they never found the opportunity to annul the marriage? What if the xenophobia towards Marylea never ceased, and what if Tem and Marylea stayed married for years and years, and eventually developed feelings for each other, the way long-time married couples were prone to do?

Panic and jealousy rose inside me like molten mercury, but I clamped down on it. I must maintain composure. This was a big wedding for Aragonia. Word had spread that Marylea was like a sister to me. In the eyes of the Aragonians, I should be happy. I needed to be happy.

The peace of Aragonia depended on it.

Marylea arrived by my side. She avoided my gaze and Tem's. The minister looked at both of them, cleared his throat, and started the ceremony. He asked them to recite after him, which they did.

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"Do you, Marylea, vow to take Templeton your dearest husband, till death do you part."

I swallowed the urge to retch.

"Yes."

For the Kingdom.

"And do you, Templeton, vow to take Marylea your dearest wife, till death do you part?"

Tem's Adam's apple bobbed unsteadily.

I shifted my gaze to the marble floor. I couldn't block my ears and go "LA LA LA LA" but I could direct my gaze so I didn't have to see the Tem's lips mouth those words. The words I'd envisioned him saying in one of my dangerous fantasies, except I was the bride, not Lea.

Birds chirped in the willow tree overhead. Tem's words never came. I decided to steal a glance and looked up at Tem. I was stunned to see an expression of shock frozen on his face. He held his palms open before him, staring.

I felt a burst of inane happiness. Had he decided to put his foot down and announce to the Kingdom that this wedding would not happen, could not happen, because he was in love with someone else?

Then I saw golden flakes drifting in the wind. They were coming from his hands. I looked at them closely, and what I saw almost made me pass out.

Tem's fingers were dissolving slowly, and his first finger joints were gone.

When I was ten and Tem was twelve, we'd dared each other into a tree-climbing competition. I was on a sturdy oak, wiggling my butt at him, and he was scrambling up branches as fast as he could. He was strong, but I was fast.

Then a sickening crack had split the air. I'd looked down and saw Tem dangling from a wobbling branch, his other limbs flailing in the air. Without a second's thought, I'd scrambled down the tree, grabbed his hand and hoisted him onto a thick branch. It was only after the adrenaline surge had died down and I could hear over my barreling heartbeat that I'd realized what I'd done.

Now, eight years later, instinct kicked in, the same way they had when I saw Tem dangling from a tree branch, and I darted towards the stunned groom. I cried his name out loud. I took his hands, clasped them tightly, as if that would bring his fingers back.

Marylea stood behind me, and I only knew because I could hear her gasping, like she'd been overdosed by Achilles' paint balls.

Tem looked at me with wide, hazel eyes. The volume of gold dust grew - this time they came from his wrists, and more seemed to be coming from inside his Caval sleeves. The white sleeves fell slack as his arms disappeared. Then the top of his coffered brown hair whirled into gold wisps.

His eyes widened with alarm. "I love you," he said, his voice urgent. I opened my mouth to say it back, but before I remembered how to speak, before the words would come, Tem was gone. His Caval fell into a limp heap on the floor.

I scrunched the silky fabric in my fingers. I didn't understand. Where did Tem go? He was just here.

Flashes of white light crept into my vision, like white fireworks. They swallowed my vision. But before I could go, Marylea's screams pierced my ears. The fireworks went away, and the vision of Tem's crumpled Caval returned.

Other screams joined hers. Chairs dug into the grass as people jumped to their feet and ran away, as if they, too, would dissolve in gold dust if they stayed. I stood mutely, taking in the chaos erupting before me. A firm pair of hands gripped my shoulders. It was Keenan, his face whiter than I'd ever seen.

"Ash, he's gone," he said.

As if my mind had known but was trying its hardest to deny it, Keenan's words broke through the protective wall, smashed right through it with a battering ram. Something sparked in my head. A surge ran through my body, and I lost sensation in my legs.

Then everything went black.