“Dayum,” Krystan said with emphasis, nodding her head.
Highest compliment indeed.
Looking past her into the large mirror, my breath caught. I had to agree. Dayum was right. With only a bit of makeup, even I could tell I was glowing. I’d gone from a nobody working a liquor store, to a human sacrifice, to a fighter and a lover. Now I was a bride, about to marry a man who surpassed even my wildest dreams.
Things hadn’t been easy, or simple, or even remotely normal. If someone had told me all the shit I’d have to go through to get here, I would have meekly said no thank you and stuck my nose back in my book to hide it out. But every step I took had made me strong enough to take the next. Looking back, I couldn’t believe the incredible optimism I carried that everything would turn out alright, even when we were trapped in the Stygian. Without that blind optimism, I wasn’t sure I would have survived this long.
I was in awe of the strength I saw in the eyes of the woman looking back at me. Against all odds, Calan and I were together, and it was going to stay that way. My vision misted as the rush of emotion swept over me.
Krystan rushed forward and hugged me.
“No one deserves this more than you,” she said in my ear. “It’s like he was made just for you. A true hero who will romance the pants off you the rest of your life.”
I laughed, blinking back any threatening tears, and squeezed her back.
The door opened, breaking up our embrace.
“Are you read—” My dad’s words cut off. His face reddened and he shifted back and forth on his feet looking as uncomfortable as if he’d walked in on me and Calan.
Krystan gave me an impish grin. “That’s Gregory speak for he thinks you look beautiful.”
My dad grunted in assent and gave Krystan a grateful nod.
Krystan and I laughed as he visibly struggled to get control of himself. He didn’t look so bad himself. My dad had gelled back his hair which had gotten rather long, and his beard was neatly trimmed. I’d never seen him in a suit before. His movements in it were overly cautious, as if he were nervous about ripping it.
A sharp pang of sadness went through my heart. My mom was so close yet so far away. If only she could be here to see my dad, or to hug me on my wedding day. The ache in my chest threatened to yawn open and pull me into the myriad of emotions I was feeling, but I closed it up. I didn't want to be sad or wistful. While holding off for her to wake up was discussed, I didn’t want to spend my life waiting. It was too dangerous to pass up any opportunity to celebrate in this life. If she woke up, it would only be cause for another celebration.
Regina popped her head in. “I’m here for Tristan, are you all ready?” She wore a long, elegant, silver dress. Lace covered her décolletage and traveled down to adorn her three-quarter length sleeves. Even her hair was in a sleek wave, lending an extra air of class about her. Her sharp eyes scanned me up and down.
Panic shot through me. She was about to tear me a new one about picking the boho trash dress—as she so passively aggressively implied on multiple occasions. I was ruining her perfect classic wedding, and I knew I’d have to face numerous microaggressions if not all out hostility for rejecting the dress she’d chosen.
The lines around her eyes softened. “Oh Emma.” She motioned for me to turn and I obliged. “Aren’t you an absolute vision.” Then with a solemn face she said, “You were right. There could be no other dress for you than this one dear.”
Warmth rushed over me as I embraced her next. She pulled back and held my hands. “Today is the one day, time will stand still for you both and everything will go perfectly.”
I smiled but didn’t miss the stab of guilt I felt at her words. Sure she’d been controlling, manipulative, and passive aggressive, but I didn’t have to worry about a single thing today. Not caterers, florists, or anything, because she had taken care of it all. Maybe some of it was to feed her own pride, but I knew she wanted nothing but the best for me and Calan.
I grasped her hands tighter. “I know it will, because you’ve made sure of it.” From what little I'd glimpsed of the grounds, decked out in orchids, lilies, and even pink roses for my sake, the place was a dream. “Thank you so much for everything.”
She squeezed my hands one last time, her lips pursed already back in business mode. “There will be time for that later dear.” Then she grabbed the baby carrier from the bed and was off.
Taking a deep breath, I turned toward my dad. “Is it time?”
He gave me a gruff yes. I went take his arm, but he grabbed me for a bone cracking hug. Enjoying his near crushing embrace, I remembered a time I thought I’d never feel his hug again, much less have him walk me down the aisle.
Krystan winked at me as she handed over the heavenly smelling bouquet. “Show time.”
* * *
The walkdown the aisle was one of the longest I'd ever taken, and I was glad I had my dad to hold onto to help steady my step. Krystan had already made her way to the front to stand next to the small gazebo. It was an outdoor ceremony by the large Victorian house I’d just emerged from. The air smelled of fresh grass, and the white tulle wrapped around the gazebo swayed in the light breeze. Sunlight glinted down through the dancing leaves, and I felt both light and heavy at once. I could explode into a million pieces from the emotion and joy.
Everyone was standing. While we’d gone for a small wedding, the number of faces still surprised me. Jo, Mika, and their mom sat toward the back. He grinned at me like a Cheshire cat, but when he caught my eye, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as if inviting me to escape with him one last time. I suppressed a laugh. He was an idiot. Then I saw Astrid from the Order of Tenebrae—the serious-faced Asian woman who wore a slinky emerald dress. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant bun that perfectly framed her heart-shaped face. She gave me a slight nod and I nodded back.
Master Ylang was there with Master Violetta by his side. They opted for the dark purple, velvet robes, gold rope belts to cinch their waist. More gold thread was ornately woven into their sleeves to make their robes extra fancy. Master Violetta’s gray and white streaked hair was plaited back in complicated braids wrapped up in a bun. For a couple of regular sourpusses, they seemed almost relaxed. Their mouths were soft, almost smiling, as they looked on in dare I say, approval?
There were many faces I didn’t recognize, either friends of Regina and Phillip’s or maybe a couple of interlopers from the Order of Spiritus no doubt. I wondered if my small number of school friends who were herded in the back corner had any idea of the power they were surrounded by.
Regina stood in the front, holding baby Tristan now. She was smiling but her brows were furrowed as if she were fighting back emotion as my dad had done. Phillip rested his hands on her arms, a steadying force for her.
