The Sovereign's Curse

Chapter 4: The Wedding

The tension in the palace had been mounting for days. Whispers of an impending threat had reached the king’s ears, and the order had been given—every shadow was to be scrutinized, every stranger watched.

Leon stood at the edge of the courtyard, his sharp gaze following the flurry of movement as the royal guards fanned out in pursuit of an unseen enemy. The hunt had begun.

“We have a lead,” Cedric’s voice broke through the chaos, breathless but determined. “One of the palace staff reported suspicious activity in the lower chambers.”

Leon’s jaw clenched. “Do we have a name?”

Cedric shook his head. “Not yet, but they’ve narrowed the search to a handful of outsiders brought in for the wedding preparations.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The air was thick with unease as Leon and Cedric descended into the underbelly of the palace. The once-majestic corridors, now dimly lit by flickering torches, seemed to close in around them.

Suddenly, the sound of a scuffle echoed from ahead. The clang of steel, followed by a desperate shout. Leon’s pulse quickened, and without a word, he and Cedric broke into a run.

When they reached the source of the commotion, three guards had pinned a cloaked figure to the ground. The assassin’s dagger had already been knocked from his hand, and the man struggled, teeth bared, as he was forced into submission.

“Got him,” one of the guards called out, standing over the writhing figure. “This was the one sneaking through the servant's quarters. Armed and ready.”

Leon’s eyes narrowed as he approached, the flicker of torchlight casting ominous shadows on the assassin’s face. Whoever this man was, he definitely wasn’t the mastermind.

“Take him to the dungeons,” Leon ordered, his voice a low growl. “We’ll find out who he’s working for soon enough.”

As the guards dragged the captured assassin away, Leon’s gut churned with a familiar unease. One pawn had been subdued, but the danger wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

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The arrest of the assassin brought a temporary sense of security to the palace, but it was fragile, as delicate as the silk gowns worn by the guests. Rumors buzzed around like restless insects, fueling both curiosity and fear. Leon, however, felt no safer than before. If anything, the capture had only served to deepen his suspicions. Whoever had orchestrated his murder wasn’t done, not by a long shot.

The day of the wedding arrived with unsettling speed. Despite the captured assassin rotting in the dungeons below, a gnawing sense of dread remained lodged in Leon’s chest. He had relived this day once before, only to have it end in his death. His second chance felt less like a gift and more like a ticking time bomb.

Standing at the altar once again, Leon glanced toward Elysia. Her beauty, veiled beneath intricate lace and jewels, was almost surreal. But this time, Leon’s focus wasn’t on the union or the pleasantries—it was on survival.

He scanned the hall, his eyes sweeping across every shadow, every servant, and every noble face. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat a reminder of the looming danger. They had caught one assassin, but who was to say there wasn’t another, waiting for the right moment?

The ceremony progressed much like it had before, the same priest, the same vows. But now, Leon could barely focus on the words. His mind raced, trying to predict where the next attack would come from. Every clink of a goblet, every flicker of torchlight sent his nerves aflame.

Then, just as the final vow was spoken, Leon felt it—a faint sting at the back of his throat. His body tensed. Poison.

Elysia turned to him, her eyes wide with what could have been concern or something else entirely. The cheers of the nobles around them sounded distant, muffled, as though coming from underwater. Leon’s vision blurred, his limbs growing heavy as the venom coursed through his veins. He staggered back, his fingers clutching at his throat as he collapsed to the floor.

His last sight was Elysia standing over him, her lips parted in a silent gasp, or perhaps a smile.

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-The Reset-

Leon awoke with a gasp, his chest heaving as though the poison still clung to his lungs. But instead of the cold stone floor of the chapel, he found himself lying in his bed, the familiar sheets tangled around him. His head spun as the reality of the situation slammed into him once more. He had died—again.

The faintest knock echoed at his door, and Aldric entered, as he had before. “Your Highness,” the steward began, his expression one of mild concern. “Your father is expecting you. The preparations for the wedding—”

Leon didn’t hear the rest. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in a cycle he couldn’t break. Two times now. Two deaths. And the only constant—Elysia.

His suspicion, once a mere whisper, was now a resounding scream. But if Elysia wasn’t the one orchestrating his death, then who? The answer eluded him, but the question festered in his mind.

Whatever humanity Leon had clung to in his first life had begun to slip. The kindness, the hope—it drained with each reset, replaced by cold calculation and an unsettling detachment. He couldn’t trust anyone. Not anymore.

And certainly not her.

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