Kristan squeezed my hand, her grip almost desperate.
“I don’t want to lose you to this marriage,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
“You won’t,” I promised, my voice ringing with a certainty I didn’t feel about anything else. The one thing in this world I would never sacrifice was my best friend.
The door opened again, and I stepped away from Kristan to see who had entered. Seeing my mother was like surfacing for air after being trapped underwater. She approached with effortless grace, her beautiful face taut with disapproval.
“That dress is…” She huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t even have words. I can’t believe your father asked you to wear it.”
Kristan tried to hide a laugh by covering her mouth.
My mother, Lady Laurelin Kerridan, had never been one to mince words—one of the reasons my father had fallen for her. She was one of the best singers in Ceilte, though she didn’t come from a wealthy family. My father’s family had accepted her because she had been his second wife, and only centuries after the first had died.
Her eyes swept over the tight bodice, the large petticoats, and the sheer volume of fabric that resembled a tent more than a gown. The longer she stared, the more indignantshe became. The dress had belonged to my grandmother, the late Lady of Ceilte, and my father had been adamant that I wear it to honor her. The style was ancient, but honestly, if not for the heat, I wouldn’t mind it. Not when my future husband was a far worse choice.
“Lucky for you that you look beautiful even dressed in a potato sack, right, Kristan?”
“Yes, milady.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from quirking up my lips—the first real one of the day.
“If you'd like, I can find one to replace the dress,” Kristan offered.
“Honestly, that would be an improvement,” my mother replied, circling me.
She tugged at a stray thread, smoothed a fold, and wrinkled her nose at the skirt’s ridiculous bulk. When the inspection finally ended, she stepped close and cupped my face in her delicate hands, her gaze sharp. Her touch, warm, and familiar, unraveled the knot of tension in my chest. Old memories surfaced of her comforting me when I scraped my knees, woke from nightmares, or when the world felt too big for a little girl.
For a second, I wanted to be a child again. Just a little while longer.
“My baby…” she murmured, her eyes shimmering with a mix of pride and sorrow. “I can hardly believe you’re marrying. And in the bloom of your youth, no less!”
“Bloom of youth,” I repeated, raising a brow. “Mama, I’m one hundred and forty-two., not twenty.”
She smiled in that way that could make a Lord bow.
“Exactly. The perfect age to make wild, irresponsible, romantic choices, not this.” She gestured at the dress.
Kristan suppressed another laugh, but I shot her a glare over my mother’s shoulder. I knew exactly what she was thinking. I had already made all those wild, irresponsible, romantic choices. And many other things I’d never admit out loud.
“I’m not unhappy, Mama,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “I’m fine. It was my choice too.”
She pursed her lips as if to protest, but held her tongue. Her eyes searched mine with a look only mothers could give, the kind capable of seeing cracks invisible to the rest of the world.
“If that fool harms a single hair on your head, you know what to do.”
I grinned this time. “One drop of Fyrin sap in his drink, and he won’t even feel what hit him.”
Her expression brightened, satisfied, perhaps even a little too proud of my readiness to poison my future husband if the need ever arose. Her words settled deep inside me. I might not be a warrior like Leone, but I had my own weapons.
“That’s my girl,” she said, patting my cheek lightly. “A Kerridan bows to no one. Now…” She straightened, smoothing the fabric of my gown. “Let’s show the world how to make an entrance.”
The door swung wider, the brilliant light of the corridor flooding the room.
It was time.
All at once, I felt ready and completely unprepared for whatever waited on the other side.
Chapter 2
