She offers her hand, and I pause, unsure of what will happen when this ring is slipped on. I must take a moment too long because she lifts a brow as if silently saying,Any day now.
What are you waiting for? Put the ring on her finger and kiss her. Are you planning to use tongue?
You see what I have to deal with? It’s no wonder I haven’t jumped off a bridge or thrown myself in the path of a drunk witch on her broomstick.
I slip the ring onto her finger and wait.
It fits perfectly. Like it was made for her.
Because it was,Nightmare murmurs.From the roses we created.
From magic that shouldn't work but does,I reply.
Tomato, tomahto.
She stares at the ring—gold and black twisted together—and her breath catches. Her fingers curl slightly, like she's testing the weight of it.
"It's beautiful," she whispers.
Those two words shouldn't hit me as hard as they do.
And then?—
Light explodes, seeming to come from every place all at once.
Golden light pours from Chelsea’s hand, swirling to the ceiling. Black shadows fall from my hands, rising to join her light.
Nightmare! Is this you?
It’s not me, I swear.
Her light and my shadows dance together, entwining like a pair of swans, rising up and then zipping around the room as Chelsea’s family watches with mouths open.
Chelsea steps back, eyes wide. My heart thunders. Is this it? Will she turn and run screaming from the room?
Please don't run. Please don't look at me like I'm a monster. Please?—
But then she watches the magic and her eyes soften. She holds out her hand, and our combined powers ripple through her fingers like water.
And then she smiles at me.
And my chest pulses.
See? I knew you liked her.
I steel my shoulders.This is self-preservation,I tell Nightmare.
Sure it is.
The magic dissolves, falling to the floor where the wooden boards soak it up. The house shudders, and I cock a brow.
“It’s happy,” Chelsea murmurs to me.
And that’s when her grandmother says, “You may kiss the bride.”
Chelsea
“Um… we’re going to skip the kissing part.”
