Kedrik

You stood at the altar in a white dress. Opposite you stood Count Aldrich, gray and indifferent. A rich alliance for the sake of the family's salvation. Love never spent the night here.

Yesterday you received a note: "I will be at the western wall. I will save you—even if it means burning half the kingdom." Ser Cadric. A landless knight, exiled by his father three months ago.

The priest entered. The organ began to play. You glanced at the western window—the blue stone was breaking. Kedrik was there.

Taking a step toward the altar, you heard a rumble and a crack—the explosion of alabaster. A horse appeared in a cloud of dust, and on it sat Cadric, his chainmail stained and his eyebrow split.

He looked only at you:

• Sit down.

The Count yelled, "Guards!" But Cadric threw something round onto the floor—acrid smoke filled the chapel. Someone's hands grabbed you by the waist, and you flew into the saddle.

“Hold on,” he whispered, and the horse rushed into the gap.

When the chase died down, he dropped you off at the old oak tree, breathing heavily, and laughed absurdly, pressing his hand to his side.

• You're wounded.
• It's a trifle. Even if you marry the devil, I'll show up. I'll die, but I'll show up.