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Quelling the pathetic way my mind wanders, I rest my head against the couch. Galina is falling asleep. She looks peaceful, like an angel in one of the many paintings in my home. A home she’s only inside of because I forced her inside.
That alone is enough to remind me of our unnatural situation. We’re from different worlds. I’m destruction … I ruin, I kill, I slash and burn. My goal is to murder my enemy.
And her?
She’s everything I’m not. She’s too good and too innocent to be tainted by a monster like me.
Galina whimpers lightly, eyelids twitching. Her beautiful mouth is set in a frown; whatever she’s dreaming of isn’t pleasant. On instinct I bend down—it isn’t far—and kiss her. Our hands curl together, pressing until we can’t be untangled. The pressure of the diamond on the ring cuts into my flesh.
It hurts.
But I squeeze harder.
When I end the kiss, she’s smiling in her sleep.
24
GALINA
My reflection looks nothing like me. Yes, it’s my face with the right color eyes, the familiar cupid’s bow mouth, but that’s where it ends. The woman staring at me in the mirror, with her hair wound up in an elegant braid with white flowers woven through and sparse rouge on her cheeks, is a stranger.
Rubbing my hands down the wedding dress that squeezes my middle, I let out a sigh. Get it together, Galina. This is you. You chose this dress for this day. My inner voice doesn’t help. I still feel like I’m out of my body, watching somebody else prepare for her wedding.
“Miss?” Olesya asks. “Do you like it? Should I add more blush or thicker eyeliner?”
“You did great,” I assure her gently.
“But … you barely have any makeup on.”
That was intentional on my part. I’ve never been one for pounds of foundation or exaggerated styles. I thought that if I looked more like my usual self, I might be able to handle this day better.
Looking at my reflection again, I wonder if I made the wrong choice.
If I let Olesya lay the makeup on thick like an actual mask, I can pretend I really am someone else. I can really hide.
My drive to go the coward’s route doesn’t last long. Inhaling and then exhaling, I give a little spin. The silver heels, with their array of quarter-sized crystals, gleam. They’re a perfect match for the gown that flows like milk poured from a carafe.
“How do I look?”
Olesya’s eyes light up the way a child would on Christmas. She happens to be dressed in holiday colors as well: a green and red dress that tightens just under her breasts before flaring out like a baby doll. “You look like a beautiful bride.”
I stop short. The hem of the dress sways a bit longer from the momentum. No, I don’t just look like a bride; I am a bride … even if I don’t feel like it.
“Then I’m ready.”
Olesya leads me out of the sitting room. The mansion is quieter than usual; I don’t see anyone on the walk through the parlor. I slow down as we pass Arsen’s bedroom.
“The car is waiting, miss,” she urges me.
“Where’s Arsen?”
“He’s gone on ahead.” She notices me looking at his door and gives me a dubious squint. “The groom can’t see the bride before the wedding. That’s bad luck, remember?”
“Can’t have more of that,” I chuckle sarcastically.
Olesya closes the distance between us. Gently, in a way that reminds me of how Audrey would do it—and makes me miss my friend even more—she pats my shoulder. “Are you having second thoughts?”
It’s a struggle not to laugh rudely. I’m on my way to fourth and fifth, I think. “Why are you asking that, Olesya?”
