Chapter 1: The Wedding Ultimatum

“You want to see me undress, is that what you want? Fine, I’ll do it right now!”

My voice rang out in the gilded, high-ceilinged room. The sound bounced off the intricate crown molding and heavy velvet curtains. I folded my arms, chin lifted, stubborn as always. The air was thick with candle wax and a hint of lingering smoke—probably from that old fireplace that never worked right in these palace rooms.

“What?!”

The so-called “Regent Prince” standing in front of me had a face like a thundercloud. He started to unbuckle his gold-inlaid leather belt. The tension in the room snapped like a rubber band, and I caught a glimpse of my own wide-eyed reflection in the polished marble floor before I could even process what was happening.

Wait, what the hell is he doing? My mind scrambled, heart thumping. Hundreds of years have passed and he’s still putting on this act—does he just love the drama, or what? I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t deny the adrenaline in my veins. Even for him, this was a whole new level.

He grabbed my chin and sneered. “So, Little Princess, why aren’t you saying anything?”

His hand was cold, his grip firm, and for a split second I remembered all the stories about him—how he could freeze a river with a glare, how he never let anyone get the last word. But I wasn’t about to let him win this round.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his hand.

“Snap out of it! You’re the King of Heaven—enough with the dress-up games!”

I yanked his hand away, cheeks burning. Sometimes I swear I’m the only sane one in this entire celestial family.

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Today is my wedding day.

Nine white doves lead the way, a giant cardinal carries the lantern, and eighteen golden-maned horses pull my wedding carriage through the clouds. It’s all straight out of a Southern fairy tale, with every flourish my dad could conjure up from the South Carolina coast—and then some. Even the air smells like salt and honeysuckle.

I sit upright in my wedding dress, thinking back to last night.

Dad sat me down, his voice serious—almost grave.

“…Sweetheart, once you leave, who knows when you’ll be back home on the South Carolina coast. You have to remember—not to make the Crown Prince dislike you…”

His voice was low and a little shaky, the way it gets when he’s trying to sound tough but really just wants to hug me tight and never let go. He always melts when it comes to me.