Accidentally His Bride – Oops I’m in a Story Read Online Marian Tee

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Like I mattered.

And now he's somewhere in New Jersey, fighting people who want to kill him, and I'm lying here in silk sheets wondering if I'm going to be a bride tomorrow or something else entirely.

The clock ticks past three.

Past four.

Wedding or funeral?

I don't know.

I won't know until morning.

And morning, whether I'm ready or not, is already here.

Chapter Six

"MY LADY. MY LADY, please."

I pry my eyes open and find a young maid standing over me, her face tight with barely concealed panic. My head feels stuffed with cotton. My body feels like it's been filled with sand.

"What time is it?"

"Past nine, my lady. The ceremony begins at eleven. We need to start preparing you now."

Nine. I finally fell asleep sometime after dawn, which means I got maybe three hours.

But the maid said ceremony.

Which means there's a ceremony to attend.

Which means—

"He's back?" The words come out in an uneven croak. "Devyn. I mean, the king. He came back?"

The maid blinks at me. "Of course, my lady. He returned late last night. He's been in his study since dawn, preparing for the day."

He's alive.

He's here.

He came back.

Something loosens in my chest, something I didn't realize had been wound so tight. I press my hand to my sternum and try to remember how to breathe normally.

"My lady? Are you well? You've gone very pale."

"I'm fine." I push myself upright, ignoring the way the room sways. "Let's get started."

THE NEXT TWO HOURS pass in a blur. I'm bathed, perfumed, powdered. My hair is pinned and curled and arranged into something elaborate that I barely recognize. Makeup hides the shadows under my eyes, making me look like someone who actually slept.

And then there's the dress.

Abigail's dress.

They bring it in on a padded hanger, and for a long moment I just stare. White silk and delicate lace, clearly expensive, clearly beautiful. It's been altered to fit me, but as they help me into it, I can feel where it doesn't quite work. The bodice is slightly too loose. The waist hits half an inch too high. The proportions are wrong for my frame.

This dress was made for someone taller. Someone with honey-blonde hair and a figure like a Renaissance painting.

This dress was made for Abigail.

I'm just the understudy who got shoved into it at the last minute.

"You look beautiful, my lady," the maid says.

I look at my reflection. Dark hair. Violet eyes. A face that doesn't match the dress it's wearing.

I look like a bride. Just not the one this wedding was designed for.

"Thank you," I say, and try to smile.

THE MAID LEADS ME THROUGH hallways I don't recognize, deeper into the estate than I've ever been. We pass through a heavy oak door, down a narrow staircase, and into a passage carved from solid stone.

Underground.

We're going underground.

Okay, Bailey. This is fine. This is totally normal. Brides walk through underground tunnels to their weddings all the time.

My mind starts doing what it always does when I'm nervous.

What if this is a prank? What if there's no wedding, just Devyn waiting to tell me he's changed his mind?

What if this isn't a wedding at all?

What if it's an execution?

The passage curves, and I can see light ahead. Warm, golden light.

We turn the final corner, and—

Oh.

I stop walking. I stop breathing.

It's a cavern.

A massive underground cavern, cathedral-high, with stalactites descending from the ceiling like frozen chandeliers. But they're not frozen at all. They're glowing. Someone has strung them with thousands of tiny lights, and they catch and refract off the mineral formations until the whole space shimmers like something out of a fairy tale.

The floor has been laid with pale stone, polished to a mirror shine. White flowers cascade from arrangements throughout the space. Rows of chairs face a raised platform where the judge waits, and every seat is filled with people in expensive clothes, their faces turning toward me.

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I was expecting something cold and formal and political.

I wasn't expecting magic.

"My lady?" The maid touches my elbow. "It's time."

Music starts, something classical and solemn, echoing off the cavern walls. Every head turns toward me.

And I walk.

The aisle feels endless. Each step brings me closer to the platform, closer to Devyn, closer to a future I never chose. I keep my eyes forward, my chin up. The photographer in me is still working, still cataloging. The way light plays off the stalactites. The whispers that follow me.

"That's the new bride?"

"No one knows where she came from."

"She's not Abigail."

"Obviously not Abigail. Look at her."

I keep walking.

One man catches my attention. He's seated near the middle, dark-haired and handsome, watching me with an intensity that feels different from everyone else's curiosity.

Something about his smile makes my skin prickle.

I look away and keep walking.

And then I see her.

Third row. Beaming. Tears streaming down her face as she clutches a handkerchief and waves at me like we're at a parade instead of a wedding.


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