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Chapter One
Ivy
My lungs constrict and expand inside the cream-colored antique lace, feathers, and boning wrapped around my torso. My knees feel like water as I take my first wobbly step in a pair of six-inch Lulu Blues. The periwinkle soles of the shoes are just one piece of tradition.
Something blue…
I can’t believe I agreed to this.
Adira loaned me the garter on my thigh.
Something borrowed…
The dress; finished this morning…
Something new.
The something old… well, the engagement ring on my left ring finger certainly qualifies. Tarnished gold encrusted with gems. It’s as clunky and gaudy as a piece of costume jewelry. Every time I look at it my heart pinches and my stomach lurches. These aren’t butterflies like I get whenever I’m with Rogue. These areThe Nightmare Before Christmasmoths.
A stray thorn on the stem of the roses I have clasped in my hand cuts into my palm. The pain is like a pinch. I take half-a-breath, which is all I can manage under all the lace and feathers.
I don’t wake up from this terrible dream.
I wish I would.
The venue is packed. All eyes are turned my way. I don’t know this many people. I tug my blush lacquered lip between my teeth. Let it go before I can ruin my makeup. There will be photos. So many. Too many.
My lungs squeeze and spots dance in front of my eyes. I feel like I’m not really here, but it’s only wishful thinking. And panic.
I’m getting married.
I’m twenty years old and I’m about to stand in front of this crowd and pledge my devotion to a man I don’t love. And the man I do love…he’s nowhere to be seen.
Luckily, my emotions are somewhat disguised by the veil over my eyes as I walk toward the ordained minister and my husband-to-be. There will be time to fall apart later. Once I’ve done what I have to do.
I couldn’t say no. I tried to. I got down on my knees and begged.
Adira catches my attention from where he stands with the rest of the bridal party. Our gazes lock. He’s wearing all black and he doesn’t smile. His expression mirrors mine. If we could be anywhere else but here…
I attempt a small smile, but it waivers and doesn’t stick. I don’t feel it. There is nothing about this situation that is okay.
“Be Uma Cookie,” he mouths, like that will be enough to get me through this farce. Like my alter ego can save me. Nothing will make this better.
My groom adjusts the knot in his tie as I settle my focus on him. He’s a handsome man. Older than me by a decade or so. Dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and tie. A red rosebud decorates his lapel. He grins like he’s won the lottery.
He’s not Rogue.
“Please be a dream. Please be a dream,” I beg the universe. Let me wake up in my own bed. Or better yet, in Rogue’s. How long has it been since I’ve seen him? It’s only been days but it feels like weeks. It feels like forever. Since before Alec made his demands clear.
“Finally.” My groom gives me a teasing grin as he offers his hand.
It takes everything in me to put my palm in his clammy one. He lifts my veil so that he can see me clearly. Locks his hands about both of my wrists so there’s no possibility of running. My skin turns white around the edges of his fingers.
The minister clears his throat. His Adam’s apple rises above the white rectangle of his collar.
The already quiet crowd hushes. Hundreds of gazes are centered on me.
The minister clears his throat. “We’re gathered here today to see this man and this woman…”
