Page 130 of The Betrothal

I closed my eyes and raised my face to him, glancing my lips across his and accepting it when he deepened the kiss.

Cupping my throat, he squeezed slightly. “Good girl.”

The woman staring at me in the mirror was transcendent. Tendrils of silver curls framed my face, the complex bun the hairdresser had spent hours working on was held in place with an entire box of bobby pins and was deeply uncomfortable.

My skin was porcelain perfection, the lightest of blush on my cheeks, there was no bronzer, no contour – I looked pure.

The gold and charcoal eyeshadow brought out the gold of my eyes, the green and brown lightened by the metallic sheen. My lipstick the blush pink of a rose, subtle but gently glossy.

Diamond earrings to match the tiara hung to just above my collarbones, a simple gold chain adorned my neck, planned to avoid drawing focus away from the beauty of the dress.

It was calculated perfection.

The women working on me chattered quietly, they’d made some effort to engage with me, but even had I wanted to, my conversational skills were severely blunted by the soft buzzing under my skin. The effect of the pills could only be described as the offspring of a warm hug, numerous shots of vodka, and a weighted blanket.

Immobilising, calming, overwhelming.

Yet, underneath it, I could sense the panic clawing to get free, screaming for my attention, but I couldn’t quite get to it.

“Is she ready yet?” The screech of my sister’s voice entered the room before she did and some of the irritation broke through the fog. “About time.” She clicked over to me in her stilettos, her face contorting into a signature snarl. “You’ve done a fantastic job of hiding the venomous snake.”

My jaw dropped. What did she just say to me?

“Shut up, Ester. Are you never content unless you’re spitting poison at someone?” Sophie rounded her to come into my eyeline. “Hey, Izzy.”

Her smile had my eyes burning.

“Oh, fuck no. Izzy.” Sophie rushed to me, yanking tissues from the vanity and dabbing gently at my makeup. “No, Izzy,” she hushed me.

Bodies trailed behind her into the room, Mother, Mari, and several people carrying boxes and bags.

A cork popped, glasses were passed to Ester and one begrudgingly to Sophie, orange juice was given to me.

“Up, let me see you.” Mother tugged me from the chair. “Good, very good.” She pinged a curl once, then twice, easing it looser. “Get dressed,” she ordered.

I allowed myself to be slipped behind a screen, grateful for the privacy, when Mari bustled in with my gown, lowering it to my feet, I stepped in, swaying slightly.

Mari steadied me, her eyes alight with concern.

“Come on!” Mother’s voice called and Mari hurried, tugging the dress up and beginning to work on the corsetry. The lacing soon to be hidden behind the buttoned silk, she worked and teased, turning the ribbons to straighten them, my breath turning shallower and shallower with each tug.

“Sophie?” Mari called.

Sophie’s head popped around the screen.

“Can you help Isabelle? She is feeling a little unsteady,” Mari suggested.

Sophie joined us, she’d changed into the flowing green gown. The one I’d chosen for her.

I choked on a sob; it was the colour of Sebastian’s eyes.

“Okay, Izzy. Let’s get you sorted.” Sophie’s face was alight with panic, though her voice didn’t betray her. She gripped my hands and steadied me while Mari finished, leaving us to put on my shoes.

“Izzy,” Sophie whispered as she crouched, digging under my dress for my feet. “Tell me what to do?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t breathe properly.

“Nothing, Soph. Please, if you do anything, just help me get through it,” I begged.