I sigh and walk to the door. My hand is on the handle when I hear her quiet whisper.
“I’ll play the role of the dutiful pawn, as usual. But know that my hatred for you is the only thing about us that’s real,My Prince.”
I exit, lean back against the closed door and let out a long breath.
Chapter Seven
Alaya
I checked on Heller the next day. His nose was still swollen. He said everything was fine with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Seven days crawled by. Nothing changed, except my growing dread.
Now I’m heading to my wedding dress fitting in the downstairs lounge. My stomach churns with each step. Soon I’ll stand there while I’m wrapped in fabric like I’m a prize.
I haven’t seen Prince Kiernan alone since he came to apologise and ended up berating me instead.
What happened that night was terrifying. When I awoke near dawn, alone and in pain, I was shattered.
But it wasn’t a sudden realisation—it was the final, brutal confirmation of every cold look, every dismissive comment, every calculated slight. His distaste had curdled into something dangerous, something that sought not just to hurt me but to break me.
“There she is, the radiant bride-to-be!”
The voice is light and musical, breaking me out of my dark thoughts and dread. I step into the lounge and blink against the brightness. The entire outer wall is a sheet of glass, flooding the interior with a brilliance that makes the pastel blue and white decor practically glow. Underfoot, the carpet is a thick, white cloud of plush wool. Even with the fireplace unlit, the roomfeels warm, saturated by the persistent reach of the afternoon sun.
A petite, blue-haired Earthbound Fae approaches, her pink eyes bright, smile wide. She takes my hand in both of hers.
“I am Saleen, your Growth Fae seamstress. I’m so honoured to be designing your wedding dress, My Lady.”
She’s like a breath of spring flowers in this dark, musty castle. I can’t help but like her, despite the reason I’m here.
She ushers me over to a round raised podium set up across from the fireplace, then pulls white gauzy curtains across the glass wall.
“Can’t have anyone else seeing the dress.” She winks.
“Thank you, Saleen.” I smile as she motions for me to remove the black dress I’m wearing, down to my white underwear. I cross my arms over my body, feeling exposed.
“Tsk.” She waves a hand. “You have nothing to hide from me, My Lady. Such a beautiful canvas on which to weave a masterpiece.”
She starts pulling long rolls of fabric from a large bag.
“The King has insisted on black and gold for the dress, but we can add our own little bit of magic to make you a dazzling bride.”
“I’m not sure about dazzling.” I glance at myself in the golden-framed full-body mirror just in front of the podium. I look exhausted—face pale and pinched, eyes heavy with apprehension. And then there’s the scar, as black and veiny as ever. My hand drifts up to touch it, then falls away. I turn my face slightly, trying to find an angle where it’s less visible, but it’s still there. Always there.
Saleen hums brightly and begins sorting through her fabrics. “Well then, let’s work some magic, shall we?”
Saleen hums as she holds up bolts of fabric, makes a face, tries another. The fabric must be made of plant fibres—I feeltingles of her Growth Gift dance over my skin as she weaves the dress with her magic. The sensation is strange, almost alive, like vines growing across my body.
We choose a glittering golden fabric for the skirt. It cascades around my legs like sunlight. A rich golden satin for the bodice, cut so deep at the back and cleavage it borders on indecent. The sleeves are long, made of light sheer netting. Her Gift weaves black webs of delicate thorn vines and roses over it all, the pattern emerging like living embroidery.
“Magnificence.” She claps her hands together.
“It’s … stunning!” I gasp.
I turn slowly from side to side. The floor-length skirt swooshes. The gossamer-thin sleeves billow around my arms. The silken bodice ripples like liquid gold.
“Your mother would have loved to see you now.”
