Her heart panged as her thoughts veered to Ford. Today was the last day she should think of him. Not as Prince Fordham Ollivier of the House of Shadows but as her Ford. The man she had fallen in love with. The man who had flown off into the distance to break the curse that kept them apart. He wasn’t going to barge in today and demand her to be released from this bargain.

Still, her heart hoped. The traitorous thing.

She stopped before the dais and finally, she lifted her gaze to March.

He was no longer the cherub-faced youth who had skinned squirrels alive to see what they looked like on the inside or the dangerous person he’d been who had known how to give her bruises where no one would see them. She’d hoped he would be ugly, but of course full blooded Fae were rarely unattractive. And he was devastatingly attractive. All sharp features, hard jawline, dark features. He was tall and imperious and charming. The bachelor of the season. And her worst nightmare.

His smile was as deadly as his anger. Because he thought he had fallen for her. He thought he understood love. But all he knew was that she was like him. She had been successful on the battlefield, a sight to behold atop her dragon Tieran, and he had seen himself in that and suddenly wanted her.

Not as he had demanded her acquiescence despite their taste. But as he honestly believed he desired her. It was somehow worse. So much worse.

“My lady,” March said, offering her his hand.

She glanced over her shoulder just once. Just one time with hope that Fordham would save her from this. But the doors were barred. No one would be getting through them. Though Fordham had his dark shadow magic and could jump inside this room any time he wanted, he hadn’t made his appearance. And she knew what that meant. She’d always known.

Love meant death and despair and defeat to Prince Fordham.

Love would never be enough.

“Kerrigan,” March said. His voice just a note sharper. As if he knew precisely what she was thinking.

She turned her gaze back to him. Let her see the fury in her emerald eyes. Fury at him for forcing this upon her. For thinking that taming her unruly red curls into a delicate crown, hiding her softly pointed ears that revealed her half-Fae heritage, and draping her in frippery would change who she was or how she felt about him. She held that gaze for a beat and watched the shock appear on his face.

He had thought she had come around. That she could ever want this or him. She had let him think that while she planned a way out. But now that there was no way out, she could let him see precisely who he was marrying.