“Hmm.” The fabric of Last’s wedding dress rustled as she came to stand behind me. She looked exactly as she’d hoped. Terrifying. Horrifically beautiful. A black widow spider in all her splendor.
We were in a suite the Bard had conjured not far from the wedding hall. I was jittery, my nerves strung tight, a permanent crawling sensation at the back of my neck.
Before I’d left, Jagger had given me orders. He was moving pieces I wasn’t aware of, sowing hate and shifting loyalties. “Their end is coming,” he’d said. “I want them alive for the finale. If there’s chaos at the wedding, you protect . . .”—his flat gray eyes had flickered—“protect the worst of them. The Clark. Primus. Last.”
“Not Luvic?”
Jagger had laughed and sent me away. I’d left loaded with enough explosives, poison darts, and snakes to kill three dozen conjurers. Rou had called them my wedding favors.
The explosives were in a small velvet cinch purse. They looked like white rice. Traditionally, people tossed rice at the bride and groom for good luck, but when this rice was thrown, it exploded in violent bursts.
My darts were strapped to my thigh. They were covered in Smith’s Folly, which would kill any Smith in minutes.
“Just in case,” Rou had said.
Before I’d left, Jagger had tossed me a bag full of his blood snakes. They were the size of worms, but when they hit the ground, they’d erupt into full-size venomous snakes that attacked anything that moved. I’d put the bag in the cinch purse with the rice and added Rou’s Perk Me Up powder.
Last frowned at my bridesmaid’s dress, her mouth pulling down at the corners. “You’re right. It needs something else.”
She twisted her hand, and the dress shifted around me. Its fabric was scratchy and tight, but at her conjuring, it tightened even more. I sucked in a sharp breath, and the bones of the corset dug into my ribs. My breasts spilled higher, starkly white against the dress’s silver and bloodred glitter. My high heels boosted, sending me two inches higher. My indistinct brown hair twisted into knotted braids, worked through with slashes of dark red ribbon. The glitter splatters on the dress spread until they were red capillaries and bloody veins mapping the surface of the gown. At her final twist, my bare face was covered in makeup. Smoky silver eyes and deep red lipstick.
Before, it’d been easy for people’s gazes to move over me without stopping. There was nothing unique or interesting about me to hold their interest. Now, they wouldn’t be able to look away.
“That’s better,” Last said with a tight smile. “You’re almost as terrifying as me.”
She patted my arm as I stared at myself. I looked evil. I looked like a nightmare.
“I want champagne.” She nudged me, a small pout on her black-painted lips.
“Now?”
It was less than thirty minutes until the wedding ceremony. The guests had arrived. I could hear the murmur of their voices and the trickle of orchestral music from the hall. There was a taut nervousness in the sound, as if the strings had been pulled too tight and the people were speaking too quickly.
Last’s nostrils flared. “Yes, now.” She pinched my arm. “I’m about to marry a Bard, Mari. Have a little sympathy.”
I gave her a flat stare. “You said you wanted to marry him.”
“Don’t be stupid. Of course I want to marry him. It doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy it. I hate him. He’s like a songbird. So pretty. So showy. The whole world loves him. He flutters around—nothing ever bothers him. Always laughing. Always smiling. Always getting his way. Look at him. He has a mother who loves him. A father who’s proud he killed his siblings. He even loves someone. How dare he love someone?”
I frowned. What did she mean? Was she talking about Cora? She’d mentioned she’d seen Luvic with a redheaded woman. “What?” I asked. “Who?”
Last blinked. Then she waved her hand, scowling. “Nothing. No one. The Bards are always claiming to love someone. Humans. Conjurers. Creatures. They don’t though. It’s a lie. I’ve caught him in it. He seduces someone one minute and then nearly kills them the next. He’s fickle. Inconstant. Betrayal is in his blood. I’m nervous about my wedding night.”
I coughed. Then hit my chest. Then pulled in a breath. The corset was way too tight. “Well . . .”
If I had my way, there wouldn’t be a wedding night. There wouldn’t be a wedding.
“I’ll get the champagne.”
Last nodded. There was a faraway, daydream look in her eyes. It made me shiver. I hurried from the room and half-jogged down the hallway. There was a bar at the back of the wedding hall stocked with thirty bottles of chilled champagne.
At least one hundred conjurers had been invited, although I wasn’t sure how many had shown up. It wasn’t every day an heir got married, but the last time the conjurers had gathered, a whole host of them had died.
I rounded the corner then grabbed the wall, wobbling to a halt.
Luvic.
He was in a sleek black tuxedo. His hair was slicked back. He’d shaved, and a citrusy, woodsy cologne stuck to him. There was a single dark red rose pinned to his chest, and a red silk square in his pocket. He looked like he hadn’t sleep well. There were fatigue lines on his face and shadows under his eyes. He held himself with a weary tautness.
