Mother’s impossible dream was finally coming true, and I felt like I would be sick.
There was a princess standing in the mirror before me. Her features looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe she was me. The maids must have switched me with somebody else during all the hours of preparation. That sleek black hair piled atop her head in an elaborate updo was indeed similar to mine, as was that heart-shaped face, although a light dusting of blush made her cheekbones more prominent, and the eye makeup made her green eyes seem larger and brighter, too. Her full lips were ruby red, not the soft pink I knew, and her gown…her jewelry…
She could have stepped from the pages of a fairy tale.
White as the snow not long melted from the ground, lace rose vines climbed from the floor around the full skirt of the gown until they reached her waist, where a single stem emerged to bloom across her chest. A silver and pearl necklace came to rest just above her neckline, and a pair of silver and pearl pendant earrings framed her face. Above her hair rested a veil, the long gauzy material blending into the long flowing sleeves covering her arms. The train of the dress bunched on the floor behind her, long enough at full extension to reach from the altar to the church doors. It would need several maids to carry it.
She couldn’t be me. She couldn’t. Because if she was, I was getting married today, and I couldn’t be getting married today.
I was getting married today.
“You’re beautiful, Ivetta,” Theresa said, somewhere in the distance. “But you’d look even better if you smiled.”
Months of waiting, preparing, longing, and it was almost over. A few more minutes, and I would walk down the aisle. A few more hours, and I would be in a carriage with Chevalier, driving away to an unknown location for our week-long honeymoon. I wanted to be close to him. I loved his kisses, his touch, the feel of his arms around me when he held me close. But I always had an exit before. I could draw the line and stop him whenever it got to be too much. I could hide my scars and my inadequacies. Tonight, the line would disappear. There would be no more hiding, no more stopping, no more running away. He would see every single scar. He would match me up to whatever fantasies he’d built in his mind, and I already knew I couldn’t possibly meet his expectations.
“Give us a minute,” I heard Theresa say.
She took my arm and led me away from the mirror, still in a daze, legs moving mechanically, until we reached the sofa, where I froze. I couldn’t sit wearing this dress. What if I wrinkled it, or damaged it, or—
“Ivetta, you need to sit down,” she said, giving me a gentle push.
I perched gingerly on the edge of the sofa, and she sat beside me, reaching around my shoulders to give me a careful hug. The door closed with a click behind the last of the maids. My hands trembled in my lap, the diamonds in my engagement ring catching the light and taunting me with each flashing glare.
“Talk to me,” she said. “What’s going on?”
I swallowed hard, trying to gather my whirling thoughts into something sensible, but I couldn’t quite grasp anything long enough to name it.
“Last night, you were too excited to sleep. What changed?”
I swallowed again and shook my head. “I-I—I don’t—I—c-can’t—”
She snapped her fingers in front of my face, startling me into looking at her.
“Stop,” she ordered. “Breathe. Now, start over.”
I followed her instructions and took a deep, shaky breath, and then another. “I don’t think…I’m ready for this,” I finally managed to say.
She sighed heavily. “You’re worried about tonight.”
I nodded. My chest was tight with anxiety. “Theresa, I—wh-what’s it like?” I asked breathlessly.
She looked at me for a moment, pursing her lips, and then a giggle slipped out. I stared at her as her shoulders began to shake. She clapped her hands over her mouth, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
“This isn’t funny, Theresa!” I burst out.
She shook her head. “No, it’s funny,” she managed between giggles. “All those times you stopped me from telling you the juicy details, and now you want to know?”
The heat of embarrassment rushed to my cheeks. “I don’t want the ‘juicy details,’” I protested. “I just…I just want to know…what it’s like,” I finished lamely.
“So, the juicy details,” she repeated, her green eyes dancing.
“No! Not…” I groaned and dropped my gaze to my lap again. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I’m just…scared,” I admitted.
Her giggling quieted beside me, and then her arm came around my shoulders. “Sorry. I know you’re sensitive about this stuff, but you really have nothing to worry about. You love him, he loves you, and the rest will come naturally.”
“But—what’s it like?” I asked again, looking up at her.
“Well, that kind of depends,” she said, shrugging.
“On what?”
“The guy, the time, the place, what he’s thinking, what you’re thinking, what he’s feeling, what you’re feeling, the weather—literally anything and everything. It can be the best thing ever, or it can be a huge waste of time, and you wonder why you bothered getting hot and sweaty for nothing,” she said nonchalantly.
I put my hands over my flaming cheeks. “You’re not helping.”
“Ivetta,” she said, leaning toward me with a sudden serious intensity. “He loves you. He’s always thinking about what you want and what you’re feeling. That’s when it’s the best. Like I said, you have nothing to worry about.” She leaned back again with another shrug. “And if it isn’t good the first time, you’ve got the rest of your life with him to figure it out, right?”
I exhaled deeply and dropped my hands to my lap. “Yeah, I guess so.”
She laughed again. “You guess so? Look, I hate to break it to you, but this is it. You’re stuck with him, even if you don’t get married today. Which you’d better, because I got you the perfect wedding present.”
She went to the bureau, and when I saw her smirk as she pulled a silky red fabric from the drawer, my hands flew to my face again. It unfolded from the straps held between her fingers to practically nothing.
“What on earth is that?” I asked, horrified that I might already know the answer.
“It’s a negligee, silly,” she said, giggling. “Now, we need to get going so you don’t miss your own wedding. I’ll pack your luggage while you’re dancing your heart out at the ball.”
“I can’t wear that!”
She dropped the negligee on the bed and came back to me, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you put it on when you were getting dressed. Now that would make for a good first night.”
“Theresa!” I moaned.
“Look,” she said, stopping us in front of the mirror. “You’re gorgeous, and I look amazing. We can’t stay here and keep all this hidden from the world.” She punctuated her last statement by gesturing to her full curves, clothed in the same silver gown accented with white and gold the other bridesmaids would be wearing. “Although I wish I were the maid of honor. It’s not fair that Belle gets to walk down the aisle with Leon, and I’m stuck with Jin.”
“You were fine with her being the maid of honor before,” I reminded her.
“Before I knew Leon was the best man,” she grumbled. “Well, let’s go. Time to turn some heads. Oh, your veil.”
She pulled the veil down over my face before she opened the door, and the maids streamed back into the room to gather my train. They wore white dresses with silver and gold accents to match the wedding party, and waiting outside the door was the doctor who saved my life, looking sharp in a white tuxedo and silver tie. He offered me his arm, the wrinkles on his familiar face deepening as his face creased into a smile, and I took it, also smiling. My nerves weren’t gone, not by a long shot, but the fear wasn't crippling me anymore as he led me through the palace halls, this kind old man who had nursed me back to health and cared for me as if I were his own daughter. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had, so he was the only person I felt had any place giving me away to Chevalier.
Theresa, the maids, and my entire guard detail flanked us on all sides. It was hard not to feel like a confident princess with such an entourage. I lifted my chin, reassured that I could manage this. It was just another ceremony. Just like the engagement ceremony.
Except it wasn't just another ceremony. I was getting married. It was really happening. Everybody I knew and loved was about to see me get married. To Chevalier. The man I loved more than I thought was possible.
The excitement of the previous night hit me again. I’m not sure my feet touched the grass between the palace and the church.
We stopped outside the church. Theresa poked her head inside first, held her hand out behind her in a “stop” signal, and then disappeared inside. A few minutes later, the door opened again, this time accompanied by strains of organ music from the chapel. Luke, the last groomsman in the processional order, ushered me inside as Licht and Nadia, a noblewoman chosen by Sariel to complete the line-up of bridesmaids, stepped into the chapel. I hurried to a corner, so I wasn’t in the direct line of sight from the chapel.
“Ivy, is that really you?” asked a high-pitched, childish voice.
Rachel looked so adorable in her little golden gown with her basket of red and white rose petals. I smiled and squatted down to get on her eye level, pulling the veil back so she could see my face. “Yes, it is. Look how pretty you are!”
Her wide eyes stared back at mine. “Are you an angel?”
I laughed and patted her on the head. “No, I’m not. Are you ready?”
She smiled shyly and nodded. I stood up and dropped the veil back into place as I watched Nokto and Regina exit the foyer next, rehearsing the order in my mine. The priest and Chevalier would be situated at the center of the altar, and to the left and right, the bridal party and the groom’s party, respectively. First Leon and Belle, distinguished as the best man and maid of honor by the gold in their outfits, and then Chevalier’s brothers in order of their age, oldest to youngest, paired with Theresa, Arianna, Elisa, Nadia, Regina, and Janet, in that order. Then, the organ music would change to the bridal processional—
There it was. My heart pounded in my chest at the rustle of everybody in the pews standing at attention. This was it. Now or never. One step in front of the other, following Rachel as she scattered the rose petals, holding to the doctor’s arm as my maids let my train out behind me. The bridesmaids were off to the left of the altar, silver and gold; the groomsmen were off to the right, white and silver; and in the center, the priest—and Chevalier.
I felt light-headed just looking at him. His crystal blue eyes seemed to pierce the veil to lock onto mine, and he wasn’t even trying to hide his warm smile. Nobody else was in the room anymore. He was handsome, elegant, proud, and I couldn’t imagine running away now. The doctor wasn’t walking fast enough. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Chevalier was holding out his hand, taking me from the doctor, and the priest began.
I don’t actually remember much of the ceremony after that. I remember Chevalier’s eyes, drinking me in, and his hands, so warm on mine. We exchanged rings, a shock of cold metal sliding over heated fingers. He lifted the veil, and we kissed. It was just us, alone in a magical fairy tale.
We weren’t alone, though. The thunderous applause reminded me of that. The pews were full to bursting with nobility, including Gilbert, Silvio, and Keith. And there, in the front row, was the Stotts family, witnessing the realization of Mother’s impossible dream.
Chevalier led me down the aisle, and we crossed the lawn to present ourselves on the balcony above the crowd of people filling the outer court. We kissed again, and then he led me inside, back to his room, not mine. Because I was moving into his room now. I glimpsed the little wooden dove on his writing desk when the maids removed my veil and detached the ridiculously long train, and then they shooed us out of the room, off to the ball.
The nerves were building in my stomach again.
“We’ll leave at dusk,” Chevalier said, his hand unusually hot in mine.
Or was I imagining that?
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. Maybe, after a few hours of dancing, he would be too tired tonight. Maybe we could just start by sleeping in the same bed.
Maybe I was feeling the relentless tendrils of fear again.
He suddenly pulled me off the main hall into a small, windowed alcove. “Relax,” he said, cupping my cheek in his hand and guiding my eyes to his. “It will be late when we arrive, and we have many hours until then. I can’t enjoy dancing with my lovely wife if she isn’t enjoying herself.”
Something about that phrase sent a shiver down my spine and wrapped my heart in warmth. “We’re really married,” I said, smiling shyly.
A smile played across his lips, too, and he nodded. “Yes, we are.”
He leaned in and kissed me, soft and sweet, sending the butterflies into a flurry. The window at my back was refreshingly cool against the heat of his body. Another thrill ran through me when his hand settled on my waist, and I shoved him back playfully.
“Don’t ruin my makeup,” I teased him. “Oh, look. Now, you have lipstick on your face. Do you have a handkerchief?”
He withdrew one from his pocket and handed it to me, and when I finished wiping the lipstick from his face, I handed it back to him. The corner of his lip turned up in a smirk that made my stomach flip, and then he leaned in and murmured in my ear, “I’ll finish ruining it later.”
I suddenly wished I had my veil again so I could hide my blush.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNtsIuQuYRY
