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.
Mom.
My mother is here.
My mother is HERE, in this underground cavern, at my mafia wedding, wearing a floral dress that's completely wrong for the occasion and smiling like this is the happiest day of her life.
How is she here? How did she—
My eyes snap to Devyn. He's watching me with that unreadable expression, but there's something in his eyes. Something that might be satisfaction.
He did this.
He flew my mother here from Oregon. Found her, contacted her, arranged everything, and didn't say a word.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
