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The rector shifted, clearly preparing to begin. Cassian stared down at his wife-to-be, the sense of wrongness refusing to ebb.

He glanced over at the maid-of-honor, who was still wearing that faintly glassy expression, as though she could not make her eyes focus. She was no longer glaring at him, but staring at her sister, stricken.

The rector cleared his throat. Cassian was fairly sure that once the service began, it would rocket through to the end before he knew it.

“Wait a moment,” he said, his voice echoing strongly through the church. Several people flinched. “Let’s throw back that veil.”

The bride flinched. Murmurs rippled through the congregation.

“The… the removal of the veil is generally doneafterthe vows, Your Grace,” the rector explained timidly, as if Cassian was too stupid to understand otherwise.

The bride was looking straight at him, he was sure of it. If only he could see her eyes through the veil.

He smiled wryly. “Come, I insist.”

She cleared her throat, shifting. In one smooth movement, she swept back the veil.

A rather pretty girl was revealed, her chin held high, and fear jumping in her eyes. While that was unpleasant in itself—Cassian had not intended to scare his wife—there was also another fact to consider.

“I had thought that my bride had blue eyes, not green,” he said aloud, feeling suddenly rather tired.

She narrowed her eyes. Her damningly green eyes, behind spectacles he was willing to wager made her eyesightworse, not better. He didn’t glance over her shoulder at her sister—the woman he was supposed to marry.

“I think you are mistaken,” the reluctant bride answered coolly.

“I am never mistaken.”

“There is a first time for everything,” she shot back.

There was a taut silence between them. Cassian stared at her, trying to make some sense of it all.Didit matter which sister he married?

Well, yes. You had Richard secure the other one for a reason.

Speaking of which, how didhe secure your bride? You left the details up to him. Was that a mistake? They certainly glared hatefully at you, and the one you were meant to marry was willing to swap places with her sister. There is certainly an element of rescuing a loved one from a monster in this story.

The monster being me, of course.

Suppressing a sigh, Cassian turned to the rector, who was watching the proceedings with something akin to horror.

“I believe there is a mistake, good sir,” he began.

But then he was cut off by his bride grabbing his sleeve in a surprisingly tight grip. A flutter ran around the church.

“You,” she hissed, “shall have to make do with me.”

He tugged his sleeve free. “I do notmake do, my dear.”

I certainly have no interest in marrying a woman who has been quite clearly forced down the aisle.

The other woman came forward, taking her twin’s arm. The maid of honor, he could see, had crisp, pretty blue eyes, with the same glassy look in them that he’d noticed before. No doubt the poor woman saw only a blur of confusing color, without her spectacles to aid her.

“No,” she said quietly. “This is enough.”

The bride widened her eyes. “Emmie…”

“I can’t,” the maid of honor said, quietly but firmly. “You can’t.”

“I can’t breathe, Emily.”