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Nina leads me around the back of the cathedral to a smaller building, seemingly unaware of the turmoil in my mind. “This is where you’ll prepare yourself,” she explains as she opens the door and gestures me into the room.
I glance around the small space as I step inside, my eyes falling on the dress already hung and waiting for me. It’s white, of course, a mermaid cut with a sweetheart neckline. Delicate beading and floral appliques adorn the silhouette, and admittedly, it is beautiful. Probably even designer. But I have no intention of wearing it.
“You’ll need to get ready now,” Nina says. “You only have about fifteen minutes.”
Of course there’s a schedule to keep. It’s not as if any of this is even necessary. It seems like a waste to go through the motions of a church wedding, particularly when Azrael seems to believe Wildbloods are evil incarnate. But this is the way of The Society, and there is no deviating, even for perfunctory arrangements such as ours.
“Can I have some privacy, please?” I turn to Nina and force a smile.
She frowns. “But you’ll need my help getting into the dress.”
“I’ll call for you when I need you.”
She hesitates but resigns herself to the fact that I’m going to be difficult. When she steps outside and closes the door, I breathe a sigh of relief and touch the moonstone pendant around my neck. It grounds me and makes me feel close to my mother. I miss her already. I miss all of my family, but I’m also glad they aren’t here for the ceremony. They wouldn’t be able to sit quietly while I sacrifice myself to Azrael.
They are my reason for existing, and I won’t allow any harm to come to them. So, I will do this on my own, and I will do it without protest. Abiding by the treaty is the only way to maintain peace between us.
I glance around the space, taking in the antique furniture and grandfather clock. The bags I brought with me are already waiting for me on a small wooden table on one side of the room. I doubt they’d have brought them at all if they knew what was in them.
I unzip the largest bag, retrieving the dress I chose myself. It’s a black floor-length gown with a corseted bodice and a layered tulle skirt. It’s not even close to a traditional wedding dress, but I like it. If there’s one thing I need Azrael to know, it’s that he won’t strip away who I am. No matter how many rules he imposes on my life as he locks me in his gilded cage, I will cling to the choices I can control. He will have to learn to pick his battles.
If I am to be married, I will do it my way.
After getting myself into the dress, which is quite the chore on my own, I glance at the clock and realize I’ve already wasted ten minutes. I’m not worried about my makeup, as it’s held up quite well, but I apply another coat of red lipstick anyway.
I’m just pulling out my red velvet heels when Nina knocks on the door and calls out, “We need to get you into your dress now.”
“Just a minute,” I grumble, slipping into my heels quickly as awareness prickles my spine.
I was feeling quite confident with my choices, but as the minutes draw nearer, I can’t help wondering what consequences my actions will have. Tonight, Azrael will claim me as his wife, and I’m starting to second-guess my decision to test his wrath by disobeying him this way. But it’s already done, and I won’t back down now.
Butterflies erupt in my belly as I examine myself in the mirror. I look different somehow, but I can’t identify the reason. I tried the dress on several times in preparation. It’s exactly as I remember it. I still love it just as much, but now the sheer material exposing the full length of my back seems less like a bold choice and more like a stupid one because I know Azrael will be touching that part of me tonight at the marking ceremony. He will have an unobstructed view and complete access to one of the most vulnerable parts of me–and he will have it in front of his witnesses.
A knock rattles the door again, jarring me from my thoughts, and this time Nina doesn’t wait for a response. She steps inside, her mouth twisting in disapproval as her eyes move over me. “That isn’t your dress,” she argues.
“Actually, it is,” I tell her. Before she can protest further, I brush past her, taking note of the time. “Are you going to escort me to the cathedral, or shall I go alone?”
“He won’t be happy,” she calls after me.
