1
Ivy
Married. I’m getting married in four days.
I gather fistfuls of ivory skirt in my slightly damp hands. Nerves tumble in my belly like butterflies as I approach the dais.
I’ve done this before at a wedding expo where my best friend was in charge of the catwalk. I was nervous then, but not with this trilling anticipation.
I’ve done this walk in the penthouse apartment I share with my husband-to-be, high above the neon lights of this city. That time, my heart was bursting with love but also with fear; my hands were clammy because of the poison coursing through my system.
Now my heart is full with the life I’m blessed with. Our love is unbreakable. Our future stacked with possibilities.
My psychotic stepbrother has been missing for months. My evil stepmother is behind bars. My life is everything I could have ever dreamed of.
Adira sniffles into a dainty handkerchief he pulled from the pocket of his slouchy white pants. My best friend is dressed modestly today, his queen persona hidden under a stretched out gray singlet that shows off his physique. “Exquisite.”
He offers his hand, and I take it as I lift the skirt to step onto the platform. Ornate mirrors surround me in a semi-circle, giving me an unobstructed view of myself in the dress from all sides.
My breath catches. The dress is beautiful. The woman wearing it is vibrant and glowing with happiness. It’s everything I envisioned when I dreamed it up with the help of my mentor, Danica Garfield, an insanely talented designer.
Somehow my wedding gown is more than a dress. It’s promise, and hope, and happiness all rolled into an outfit that doesn’t hide who I am like so many of my costumes did when I first met Rogue.
“Have you ever seen anything more perfect?” Adira asks as Danica steps up behind me.
“Stunning.” She checks the fit before picking up a pin with a diamond head and slipping it into place so she can make the tiniest of alterations.
“Ouch.” I jump when the pin sticks me.
“So sorry,” Danica says, her eyes glued to the spot.
“What? Is something wrong?” I twist on shaky knees.
“No.” She removes another pin from the cushion around her wrist.
“Everything is fine,” Adira says.
“No, it’s not.” I can see it in the mirror. A small crimson circle. My breath bursts from my lungs in frantic pants that make my head hurt. “It’s going to stain.”
“Love, love, love,” Adira coos soothingly as he steps up onto the platform and inspects the spot. “There’s nothing there.”
“What?” I look again. The material is pristine. I twist around as I try to get a better look. Where did the stain go?
“Honey, you need to breathe,” Adira says. “Before you have a panic attack.”
I search out his face in the mirror, and my heart stops. Alec walks toward me with unwavering determination. He’s wearing the same outfit he wore in Narnia the night he attacked me. Dark pants and long-sleeved shirt. Black gloves. Something metal glints between his fingers as he eats up the distance, a mask of pure hatred on his face.
Adira grabs my waist to stop me from toppling off the platform. He forces my gaze to his. “You’re freaking out. Everything is fine. Remember what Dr. Keller told you to do. In through the nose.”
It takes all my energy to focus on drawing that one breath.
“One...” he counts, “two...”
“Three.”
“Four.” He squeezes my hands. “And out through the mouth.”
I release the oxygen from between my lips, the clawing fear muted by the focus it takes to box breathe. My body tingles as I work through another. And then another. Until my breathing grows steady and solid and calm.
