Another local tradition is for the bride and groom to be barefoot for the ceremony to show vulnerability and humility, so I don a pair of simple slippers for the walk to the carriage. I’ll remove them when we reach the temple.
Beresford is taking a separate coach, while I ride with Mama and Anne, both of whom continue to fuss over me, fixing my hair and makeup again and again throughout the journey. Their hovering only makes me more anxious. Last night’s events have shaken me to my core, and I can’t help fretting about what might appear in the temple during the ceremony. If a demon like the one from Anne’s room shows up, I can bid farewell to anyhopes of a life with Beresford. I wouldn’t be able to explain something like that or shoo it quietly away.
Hours lie ahead of me, hours in which so many things could go wrong. I dread the ceremony. I fear the banquet afterward. I cringe at the thought of dancing on my ankle, which was nearly healed, but has been paining me more since we trundled the demon over the road and across the field in a wheelbarrow. My brain keeps circling through every possible scenario that could unfold, the millions of ways that everything could go terribly wrong.
Anne lays her hand on my knee, which I’ve been jiggling rapidly up and down. “Please, Sybil.”
But Ineedto move, so I switch to fiddling with the trimmings of my gown until Mama tells me I’m going to ruin it.
My thoughts follow the same corrosive pattern again, and again, and again…
Until, out of nowhere, Beresford’s handsome face appears in my mind. I can see the serious look in his blue eyes and hear the compassion in his tone as he says,Is it happening right now?
It’s a memory, a vivid one, and exactly the reminder I need.
What if I sprain my ankle again while walking up the aisle of the temple?
Is it happening right now?No.
What if I summon demons during my wedding ceremony?
Is it happening right now?No.
What if everyone at the banquet tells me they hate me to my face?
Are they doing that right now?No.
With every answered question, my breathing slows and my heart rate settles a bit more. The possibilities are still there, still real, but I can’t control those things, and it does no good to chafe my soul raw and bloody worrying about them. If and when they happen, I’ll find a way to cope. But none of it is happeningnow.
So I can breathe.
I lean back against the cushioned seat, gratefully savoring the peace while it lasts.
Soon we’re rolling through the manicured gardens of the temple grounds, where the temple devotees labor to produce the finest crops in the area. When my father was still with us, he would sometimes return from his journeys with a basket of temple-grown food. The fruits and vegetables were always larger and more intensely flavored than the produce we bought at the local market. He told us he ate food like that all the time at court.
The produce would usually last us a week, and by the time we’d eaten most of it, he would leave again for another long trip.
The carriage halts, and my stomach leaps into my throat. I haven’t seen Beresford for two days, and when he opens the carriage door himself, it’s like watching the sun burst through heavy clouds. His very presence brings me joy and eases my mind. It’s not as if he makes me whole—each of us were already ourselves—but I ambetterwith him, in every way. More confident, more open, more in tune with my own needs, more focused on what I want for my life. And I believe he feels the same.
I practically leap out of the carriage into his arms. He holds my feet off the ground, spins us both in a slow circle, then puts me down and looks me over from head to toe.
“Fucking exquisite,” he proclaims.
“You look stunning,” I reply, and he does. The cut of the coat he’s wearing emphasizes the breadth of his chest and shoulders. His blue beard is much shorter, trimmed close to his jaw, shaped to accentuate his cheekbones.
“I want to kiss you,” I whisper. “But I’m afraid my lip stain will come off on your mouth.”
“Do it anyway,” he says.
I seal my lips to his, and everything settles into place inside me. The worries recede, the fears fade, and my ankle barely aches at all.
This is my person. This is my place. Exactly where I’m supposed to be. Precisely what I should be doing.
The certainty makes me laugh against his mouth, and he smiles in response. When I pull back, his lips are rosy like I knew they would be.
“We’re nearly late. We should proceed to the temple.” Mama’s voice is thick, like she’s trying not to cry.
“Take off your slippers,” Anne reminds me.
