Governor Cornwall’s announcement is with met with roaring applause. It echoes around the room, reverberating through my skull. I wonder if they know I’m a prisoner here.

Some certainly must. They’d have to be delusional to think I’d ever willingly marry this man. Still, they cheer, clothed in finery, faces hidden behind masks.

It occurs to me that the real masks are their smiles.

His arm draped around me feels like a manacle.

Heavy, burdensome, impossible to escape from.

His laugh sends ice running through my veins. I hold my breath without thinking. The smell of whiskey and cigar smoke makes me feel sick to my stomach.

It seems to waft off him in waves. The smell of my soon-to-be husband.

The man is easily old enough to be my father, his face creased with hard lines already.

Standing next to him, I feel like a child, small, and helpless.

He finally leaves my side, and I can breath again. I feel an enormous weight being lifted as he turns away, both figuratively and literally.

Thelma is there in the next instant, winding her arm through mine.

She leads me from the stage like I’m incapable of finding my own way. Frankly, I probably am. My legs are struggling to make their way through my mental fog.

I glance back at the Governor, already making his rounds. He shakes hands and slaps backs, his mood celebratory.

I can only thank God that he’s distracted, that I don’t have to continue breathing him in.

How am I supposed to live with this man, with his aura of smoke and liquor and insidiousness?

“Are you okay?” Thelma asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, sure.”

She looks at me. She looks through me in that way only she can.

There’s no fooling her.

“Well, I know something that might interest you.” she offers, sly smile stretching across her face.

I raise an eyebrow in question.

“There are some very hot mystery men wandering around here, very hot.”

I have to admit, I’m intrigued. I guess I’m not yet over my fantasies of love.

“Where?” I ask.

She sweeps her eyes around the room before turning back to me. I miss her answer, the words buried under a swarm of voices. The guests come to offer me their congratulations.

I feel my hand being gripped and shaken, smiles flash at me from all around.

“Well done!” someone offers.

“Congratulations!” says another mask.

I can’t tell who’s even speaking, their voices blending together.

My stomach turns all over again, their joy making me nauseous.

How lucky you are, their eyes say. What a great catch.

I bite my tongue to stop the truth from spilling free. If only they knew that this marriage was a curse. If only they could see that the man they’re praising is a monster.

I force my lips into a flimsy impression of a smile, planting my feet to stop myself swaying.

“Thank you,” I manage to choke out, forcing my hand to return the shake.

The hand holding mine is quickly replaced with another. The eyes shining down at me make way for yet another face. It seems endless, guest after guest, each more excited than the last.

Halfway through the throng, my composure begins to crack. By the time the last man has sung the Governor’s praises, tears threaten my eyes.

“Thank you,” I offer up, voice strange to my own ears, “Yes, I’m sure we’ll be very happy.”

I turn away before any more well-wishers can appear, eyes searching desperately for an escape. They settle on an unmanned exit, and my feet move before I even bid them to. I race across the room, head down, hoping not to draw any notice.

I manage to go unseen, only pausing long enough to grab a bottle of champagne from a nearby table. I have no destination in mind, only away. My shoes click across the well-polished floor of the hallway, heart still hammering in my chest.

I can’t go back in there.

I can’t face him again.

I have no idea how I’m meant to get through the next several decades, waking up next to that man. Even his arm hung across me felt like an invasion.

To actually sleep with the Governor?

I picture my balcony.

I will myself to find the courage to jump.

Even now, I know I won’t. There’s no escape for me, not even death.

I come out of my thoughts suddenly, seeing that I’ve made my way to the main lobby.

It’s blessedly empty.

The corner of the room draws my attention, and I walk over to it, dress swishing around my feet as I go. Here I am, draped in white.

The Governor’s bride.

Never has my predicament felt so real as it does in this moment.

I fantasize about ripping the garment from my body, fragile fabric giving way, tearing in loud gasps. In my mind, I stand triumphantly, cloth pooled around my feet, before heading for the door and whatever awaits beyond it.

Instead, I find myself in the corner, folding myself into its protection the moment I arrive.

I take a long drink from the bottle in my hand, bubbles burning down the length of my throat. The fact of the matter is there’s nowhere to go.

I can’t possibly escape this life on my own.

Walking through the door now would accomplish nothing. I’d only be dragged back in tomorrow. If I even managed to stay gone that long.

I’m utterly hopeless. Lost.

I feel my mind opening up, a great dark void looming in the background. It would be so easy now to fall into that place. To never come back out.

I can practically feel myself leaning into it, utter desperation drawing nearer—but the sound of shoes on the wood flooring draws me back from the edge.

Was it the Governor coming to find me? My skin breaks out in goosebumps.

I breath a sigh of relief when he comes into view. Definitely not the Governor.

He looms above me, incredibly tall—six five, at least. His body is clearly muscular; even his steps convey great strength. His black hair shines brilliantly in the reflected lighting.

My eyes stop short at his face. Covered, hidden behind a mask.

“Can I help you?” I ask, unsure of what else to say.

His hand snakes up toward his face, removing the mask in one swift movement.

Green eyes—dark and foreboding—stare back at me.

My breath catches in my throat.

“I was hoping to ask you the same,” he says. “Why is it that the bride to be is hiding in a corner?”

Lies come flashing into my mind, excuses to justify my behavior. It definitely doesn’t look good, me hiding in a corner with a bottle of champagne. Father would be livid.

I open my mouth, still undecided on which lie suits best.

Something about his eyes stops me. I can’t stay for certain what it is.

The man is intimidating.

He looks at me now with a smile so charming as to be almost predatory. I feel my excuses die on the tip of my tongue. I’m inexplicably comfortable under that gaze.

His eyes continue to examine me in my silence. They run down the length of me, sending chills down my spine. My heart beats harder in my chest, in a way far different than it does around the Governor.

“I don’t love him,” I say, shocked as the words tumble easily from my lips.

He inclines his head, encouraging me to continue.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go through with this! The thought of being his wife, of being…I just can’t.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks me, genuinely seeming curious.

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself for some time now.

“I have no idea. I know I can’t marry him, but I just don’t see a way out of it. I’m trapped.”

My words hang in the air between us, the silence stretching until I worry that I’ve said too much. Just as I’m beginning to feel panic bloom again in my chest, he lowers himself to the floor beside me.

“I see,” he says seriously.

He studies the floor for a moment, hand reaching up to rub against the stubble on his chin. After what seems a very long time, those eyes find my own again, his face breaking out into a mischievous grin.