Saela’s head drops against Anassa’s side. My direwolf bends her neck and nudges Saela with her nose. Saela’s lips twitch toward a smile. Her tears are drying up.
“You can do this,” I tell her. “I promise you. You can do this.”
She takes a shaky breath. She’s clearly still nervous, but she squeezes my hand and says, “We’re Mother’s daughters.”
I’ve had longer to sit with Mother’s death than Saela has. It’s been hard for her on top of everything. But we’re arranging a time to visit her grave together once the coronation is over.
My chest flares with pain. What would Mother think, seeing this day? It should’ve beenherhere, claiming her throne, choosing to rule.
For a second, I can almost see what that life would have been like: a loving mother, strong and sane. A sister protected from all the pain and hurt of these past few months. A childhood where I hadn’t gone to bed hungry at least once a week.
The list of things that Killian and his family stole from us would be a thousand pages long.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I kiss her head. “Mother’s daughters.”
There’s a knock at the door in the living area. Then I hear Izabel’s cheerful voice. “Oh, great and powerful queen! We’re here to wait upon you dutifully!”
“Are you ready?” I ask Saela.
She nods, caution in her gaze.
Over the past couple of weeks, she’s seen my friends occasionally—just enough for them to not get overly worried. She sees Venna more regularly for sign language lessons, something that has jolted Saela out of her misery for a solid ten minutes at a time.
Even then, we keep their sessions brief. They still don’t know what’s happened to her.
Grasping her hand, I lead Saela out of her room.
I exhale the moment I lay eyes on Izabel, Venna, and Nevah. The twins wear the same dress but in different colors. The top of the bodice is ruched, flowing into off-the-shoulder sleeves, and the body of the gown is a sleek, sparkling fabric that appears to flow down their bodies like water. Izabel’s is a burnished orange, and her hair is artfully arranged over one shoulder. Venna’s dress is a light purple, and her shorter hair is set in soft waves.
Nevah’s in a deep silver dress that matches the silver streak in her dark curls. It has thin straps and a high slit up one side, and embroidered rhinestones cascade from the bodice of the dress all the way down the slit. Matchingrhinestones are laced throughout her hair, making her shimmer from head to toe.
If I’m playacting as a queen, they look every bit the important members of my court.
“Thank the goddess you’re here,” I say. Venna gives Saela a small hug, and my sister starts to warm up.
“Where’s the gown?” Nevah asks eagerly. Even Nevah and Venna have gotten into the excitement of the day as it’s approached. Izabel’s energy is infectious.
Brionna and my other attendants came earlier to do my hair and makeup. I saved getting into the coronation gown for my friends.
“Over here,” I say, and lead them to where it’s wrapped up for protection. “Go ahead.”
Venna reaches for it first, and Izabel watches in excitement as her sister cautiously removes the creation from its wrappings. Izabel’s hand immediately closes around my arm when she sees it. I rest my hand on hers and let my eyes wander over the garment.
It’s a queen’s dress, without a doubt. A masterpiece of tailoring and stitchwork.
It’s deep blue, embroidered in a filigree of thousands of tiny gold crystals that catch the light like stars when Venna lifts it. The neckline dips knifelike and low, almost daring. The full-length sleeves make the dress modest, though, and they will thankfully conceal my stupid fucking engagement bracelet.
Two full-length slits stretch the length of my thighs, but these are practical additions that will allow me to ride Anassa without constraint, should I need to do so.
“Oh,” Nevah breathes as she traces her fingertips over the long cape and its train. This element of my ensemble is white, but it’s threaded all the way through with golden embroidery of wolves running, leaping, almost dancing.
“You’re aqueen,” Saela says in awe, as if seeing this dress finally made it real for her.
“Let’s make sure everyone else knows that, huh?” I say playfully.
“Shall we?” Izabel says, gesturing to the gown, and I nod.
It’s a delicate art to get me into the dress without disturbing my carefully arranged hair, but with my friends’ help, we manage it.
