The grand royal reception finally dragged to a painfully exhausting, seemingly endless conclusion.
Isla was escorted by a flock of chattering maids up the sweeping marble staircase and directly into the opulent, heavily perfumed bridal chamber.
The maids quickly helped her out of the suffocating, heavy bridal gown, dressing her in a delicate, sheer white nightgown before bowing deeply and leaving her entirely alone in the suffocating silence of the room.
Sitting completely frozen on the edge of the massive, silk-draped bed, Isla felt a terrifying, icy dread violently twist in her stomach.
"This is it," she thought frantically, her hands trembling as she gripped the luxurious sheets.
"To unlock the ancient serpent magic and save my entire kingdom from absolute destruction, I have to let that disgusting monster touch me tonight.
But my body, my soul, and every single beat of my heart belongs exclusively to Dorian.
How can I possibly betray him like this?"
Suddenly, the heavy oak door clicked open.
Prince Lucier strolled confidently into the dimly lit chamber, completely reeking of expensive champagne and overwhelming, arrogant victory.
He deliberately pushed the heavy door shut behind him, turning the golden lock with a sharp, terrifying click that echoed through the quiet room like a death sentence.
'Well, my beautiful, stubbornly defiant princess,' Lucier purred smoothly, his dark eyes raking over her trembling, delicate form with a sickeningly greedy hunger as he slowly removed his heavy royal jacket.
'The painfully long wait is finally, officially over. After all this time, and despite all your fierce defiance, you are entirely, legally mine.'
Isla's blood violently boiled with pure, unadulterated hatred, but she forced herself to remain perfectly still, her face an unreadable mask of cold marble.
'I am merely fulfilling my absolute, sacred duty to this grand kingdom, Lucier,' she replied, her voice completely devoid of any emotion.
'Do not ever mistake my royal obedience for personal affection.'
Lucier simply laughed, a dark, mocking sound that violently grated against her fragile nerves.
He slowly walked over to the small wooden table, picking up a heavy crystal decanter and pouring two glasses of dark red wine.
'Duty or affection, it makes absolutely no difference to me tonight, sweetheart,' he replied coldly, walking towards her and offering her a delicate glass.
'Because by the time the sun rises tomorrow morning, you will be my fully claimed wife in every single, undeniable sense of the word.'
Isla stared down at the dark red liquid, her mind violently flashing back to just last night—to the breathtakingly beautiful, passionate war she had fought in Dorian's muscular arms, tasting the exact same dark vintage on his burning, bare skin.
The stark, nauseating contrast between Dorian's fierce, devoted love and Lucier's pathetic, entitled lust made her stomach churn violently with pure disgust.
She slowly, deliberately took the glass from his hand, her brilliant blue eyes narrowing into a deadly, icy glare as she looked up at her new husband.
"I might have to endure this living nightmare for the sake of my kingdom and my magic," she vowed fiercely in the darkest, most terrifying depths of her mind.
"But I swear on my very life, I will absolutely not make this easy for him.
If I must be a monster to gain my power, then I will make sure he fears the very ground I walk upon."
'Drink up, my incredibly sweet bride,' Lucier commanded softly, stepping dangerously close and reaching out to stroke her pale, flawless cheek with his cold fingers.
'Let us properly begin our glorious wedding night.'
Suddenly, the delicate crystal glass slipped from Isla's trembling fingers, spilling the dark red wine directly onto her pristine white nightgown.
'Oh, heavens! I will be right back after cleaning this,' she hastily excused herself, practically fleeing into the attached marble bathroom.
She stood before the towering mirror, scrubbing frantically at the stain.
But removing the dark vintage from the sheer, delicate fabric was entirely impossible.
Suddenly, a violent gust of wind howled through the high window, instantly extinguishing nearly every candle in the room.
Only a single, faint wick remained flickering, plunging the bathroom into deep, suffocating shadows.
Realizing it was completely useless to clean in the dark, she sighed and turned to leave.
Out of nowhere, a strong hand violently grabbed her wrist in the pitch black.
Before she could even let out a scream, another large hand clamped firmly over her mouth.
She thrashed wildly.
She tried to use her hands to fight back, but her attacker effortlessly pinned both of her delicate wrists.
He expertly blocked her kicking legs with his own heavy thighs, completely trapping her against the cold marble wall.
Then, the faint, trembling light of the single candle illuminated his face.