Cursed To Be His Bride ✔️

Prologue: Edward

Thick russet colossal ramparts towered over the gilded castle covering the four directions.

The sky was vast above the cone-shaped terraces, the crests of which almost reached the discarded scrapes of clouds.

The ground was covered with a blanket of thick layer of ice making a salt garden out of whatever it’d been before that.

In the corners of the big entrances stood multiple warehouses and the fresh foreign smell was enough to guess the materials behind.

Nothing belonged to our small village, the stuff only screamed expensive but it wasn’t much of a problem for someone like us to obtain millions with just a snap of fingers.

Time wasn’t a factor we paid prominence to, probably because of the immeasurable eternity ahead.

Some men escorted me inside but it was only to keep an eye on my not-so biddable behavior. My feet focused to balance on the ruby mat draped all over the floor as my eyes hovered over numerous overlooked places of the castle.

The frustration of not being able to invade any men’s mind was eating me alive. They’re older and much experienced so it was typical. I had to chant those words continuously to avoid the possibility of going mad.

The insides were as luxurious as they could be; walls painted with ruby, black and grey dyes. Vibrant colors of the paintings hanging on walls deprived the beautiful embroidery of any praise or view from the silhouettes that past them by.

Despite the mesmerizing beauty of the castle the guards that protected it caught me in a daze.

I was almost assigned to be one of them back when I was in school and even met a few familiar envious gazes along my way to the Throne Hall.

I just wished it to be over soon.

My teeth gritted and fists clenched as we neared the throne and the person on it. The gilded walls caught my averting stare and the paintings of our past hanging on them.

We liked to show ourselves as superior no doubt but the paintings were nothing but a lie―according to as much as I'd researched, but who was I to protest?

No Lord for sure. I never intended to be one even when they nearly compelled me to it.

"Edward J. Scott." Mason mumbled.

"Nice to finally meet you." A smirk went up on his lips until his fangs were in sight.

I took a deep breath before my stare filled with scrutiny started studying his features.

Ever since childhood I’d only heard about the monster the great Lord Mason Marino was but I’d gotten to witness it myself a few hours ago.

I’d entered my small cottage restless from work with hopes to perceive the most soothing face in the whole wide world only to find out she was gone, abducted.

The house was empty and the evidence of slight skirmish was all over the broken furniture and misplaced utensils on the floor.

But what drove me over the edge was the most dreading yet the sweetest scent of blood.

As my nostrils got aware with the familiar scent, horror crowded upon my face. It got to the point where I knelt on the floor stifling my tears that threatened to creep down my eye sockets but there was no stopping the sobs that ripped through my throat in agony until.

Until I saw the note rested aside on the stool and with the help of the shafts around it I got back on my feet only to be shot by another pain.

The letter had a royal seal enclosing it and with the threat to make myself visible in front of the Lords.