Bound in Ash and Flame

Mira’s POV

I smiled as I moved through the vaulted corridors of Ashveil Cathedral, nodding to the guests who bowed as I passed. They greeted me as their Crown Princess to be, their voices warm with expectation. The great hall was dressed in white wisteria and enchanted gold thread that shimmered in the candlelight. It was an hour before the final vows, and I felt an intense feeling of joy in my chest. After four years of loving Crown Prince Dorian Ashveil, of bending and forgiving through every crack he had made in us, we were finally here.

That joy held until I walked past an arched alcove and heard two chambermaids speaking quietly.

“I still can’t believe they managed a third attempt. Most people would have given up after the first one fell apart.”

“If it falls apart again I won’t be surprised. Lady Vivienne has made a habit of getting in the way. She’s Lady Mira’s own stepsister and she acts as though the prince is hers by right.”

“Maybe in his heart he is. He runs to her every time she calls. Lady Mira endures it and endures it and I wonder sometimes what it costs her. The prince may love Vivienne and simply not know how to say so.”

I stopped walking, watching them move on. I stood there for a moment and forced myself to breathe. They were not wrong. From the first season of our courtship, Vivienne had lived between Dorian and I like an uninvited guest. Every time I thought we had built something real, she appeared with her tears and her soft voice, making herself seem fragile enough that Dorian could not look away.

I had tried to show him what she was doing. He always said the same things: that she needed him, that I was being unreasonable, and that our bond was strong enough to survive a little patience. I had bitten my tongue through every public slight and every apology he gave on his knees. Ninety-nine times I had believed him.

Today was different. This morning I had watched Dorian stand on the east balcony and send one of Vivienne’s heralds away empty handed. He had turned her away on our wedding day. That had meant something to me.

I slowed as I reached the outer hall, when Dorian stepped from behind a carved pillar, his signature smile on his face.

“You aren’t in your veil yet,” he said, his voice soft and fond.

“I wanted to see the hall one last time,” I told him.

“Leave it.” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes steady on mine. “Go and get ready. I will make sure everything is in order. You just have to show up.”

I looked at him and smiled. 

“Alright. Don’t be late.”

He smiled back, and I walked back to my chambers to get dressed.

Soon enough, I stood at the far end of the aisle with my bouquet. The cathedral organ played the traditional joining hymn, signaling my moment to step out. Dorian stood at the altar, watching me through my veil. I kept my steps even, focusing only on him and letting everything else fall away.

I was halfway down the aisle when the cathedral doors burst open. Every head turned as a royal herald stumbled in, his face pale. He looked at Dorian with an apologetic gaze.

“Your Highness. A message from Lady Vivienne. It’s urgent.”

I watched Dorian’s jaw tighten. I told myself the pause meant something. That this time would be different. I stood still in the middle of the aisle and waited. Then Dorian lifted a hand to signal the herald forward.

My stomach dropped.

The herald leaned in, delivering a message in a low voice I could still hear. A wraith attack at the Vayne estate. Dark magic. Vivienne had barricaded herself in her chambers and was fading fast. I had heard versions of this before: fevers, nightmares, falls from horses. The circumstances always changed; the result never did.

Dorian turned to me, his brows furrowed. I recognized the expression. I closed the distance between us and spoke.

“Don’t.”

“Mira.”

“This is the hundredth time, Dorian,” I warned. “The hundredth time that Vivienne has placed herself between us on a day that was meant to be ours. If you walk out of this cathedral right now, I will not be standing here when you return.”

He searched my face, his hand finding mine for a moment. Then the herald shouted that my stepsister was fading and calling for him. Something in Dorian’s eyes went cold.

“She could truly be in danger. You know I cannot ignore that,” he said with urgency.

“And I am your betrothed.” Tears came despite my best efforts. “I am the woman you have sworn yourself to for four years. Does that mean nothing to you? Does this mean nothing?”

His face softened, but I knew it wouldn't change his choice.

“I will fix this. I will come back and we will do this again, properly, I promise you.”

“Stay,” I said. “Just this once, Dorian. Stay.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then stepped back. I felt his hand leave mine.

“I am sorry,” he muttered, and then he walked away.

The doors closed behind him and the cathedral went quiet. Everyone’s eyes stayed on me, waiting for me to break down or accept the disgrace. I stared at the empty altar and felt rage burn through me as the murmurs filled the space.

“She’ll take him back. She always does,” a voice whispered.

“Who will have her after this? Prince Dorian has turned the betrothal bond four times already.”

“She should have accepted his terms and simply waited.”

I looked at the flowers in my hands and something that had been bent for a very long time finally broke. One of Dorian’s court officials approached me carefully.

“My Lady. Shall we hold the setting for when His Highness returns? The ceremony could be arranged again within a few days.”

I looked at him. 

“No.”

He blinked and frowned. 

“No?”

I reached up and pulled the veil from my head, tossing it to the ground with the bouquet in tow. I trampled on the flowers, my heart bleeding with anger.

“The wedding is cancelled!” I announced, my voice echoing off the walls as the crowd gasped. “I am no longer marrying Crown Prince Dorian Ashveil.”