Page 210 of Arrow

My father straightened his already perfect tie, his composure regained. “I’ll see you at the cathedral. When you walk down that aisle, remember who you are. Remember whose blood runs in your veins.” He moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at me. “And when the truth about your mother comes out—and it will—remember who warned you.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click, but the damage was already done. My hands trembled as I sank back into the chair, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at me seemed suddenly unfamiliar—half-finished, vulnerable, eyes wide with shock and doubt.

Luna burst in moments later, her face tight with concern. “What happened? What did he say to you?”

I couldn’t form the words, couldn’t give voice to the terrible suspicion my father had planted. I shook my head, forcing my breathing to slow, my hands to steady.

“Nothing that matters,” I lied, meeting Luna’s eyes in the mirror. “Just more manipulation. More games.”

She didn’t believe me—I could see it in her eyes—but she didn’t push. Instead, she called the stylists back in, and the preparations resumed. As they finished my hair and makeup, I felt myself retreating behind a wall of ice, my mind racing with my father’s words.

Ask him what part the Romanovs played in her death.

The words echoed in my mind as I stared at my reflection, now fully transformed into a bride. My dress hung nearby—a masterpiece of ivory silk and delicate lace that would make me look like something out of a dark fairytale. But my father’s revelation had cast a shadow over everything.

“Harlowe?” Luna’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “It’s time to get you into your dress.”

I nodded mechanically, rising from the chair. The stylists fluttered around me like anxious birds, helping me step into the gown. The weight of it settled on my shoulders as they fastened the countless tiny buttons down my spine. When they finished, they stepped back, and I faced the mirror.

The dress hugged my curves, the delicate lace overlay creating patterns of light and shadow across the silk. My hair fell in loose waves down my back, white flowers woven through the dark strands like stars in a night sky. Around my neck, Arrow’s initial glinted in the light.

“You look breathtaking,” Luna whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

I touched the A at my throat, my father’s words still poisoning my thoughts. “Did Atlas ever tell you about my mother’s death?”

Luna’s expression shifted, confusion replacing admiration. “Your mother? I thought she⁠—“

“Killed herself,” I finished for her. “That’s what everyone believes. What I believed.” I turned to face her directly. “My father just implied the Romanovs were involved somehow. That Arrow knows something about it.”

Luna’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. “Giovanni is desperate. He’s trying to drive a wedge between you and Arrow on your wedding day.”

“But why this particular lie? Why now? He agreed to this wedding, and now he’s trying to stop it!” I pulled away, pacing the small confines of the preparation room. “He could have said anything to try to stop this wedding. Why bring up my mother?”

Luna watched me with growing concern. “What are you thinking, Harlowe?”

I stopped pacing, my decision was made. “I need to speak with Arrow. Now.”

“You can’t,” Luna protested. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.”

I laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “In our world, ‘bad luck’ is the least of our concerns.”

Luna stepped closer, her hands gripping my shoulders gently. “Listen to me. Your father is playing games. He sees that you’ve chosen Arrow, that his plan to use you as a spy has failed. He’s desperate, and desperate men will say anything.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I need to hear it from Arrow. I need to look him in the eyes when I ask about my mother.”

Luna sighed, recognizing the determination in my voice. “Alright. I’ll call Atlas, but at least take your dress off, so something surprises him when you walk down that aisle. But Harlowe—” she gripped my hands tightly, “—don’t let Giovanni destroy what you and Arrow have built.”

Ten minutes later, my dress was back on the mannequin, I was back into my Mrs. Romanov robe, and the stylists had put a silk head covering over my hair to hide the work they’d done.

“Arrow’s on his way,” Luna said, checking her phone. “I’ll go check in with Atlas while you guys chat.” She gave me a small smile before leaving the room.

45

FORTY-FIVE

HARLOWE

Istared at the door, my nerves raw and exposed. My father’s words about my mother echoed in my head, poisoning what should have been the happiest day of my life. I paced the room in my silk robe, the “Mrs. Romanov” embroidery catching the light each time I turned.