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“This calls for a celebration,” Mother announces and gets up to grab us another bottle of wine. She returns with what looks to be a very old vintage. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.”
“My funeral,” Father interjects softly but with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
For a second, I hold my breath as I think Mother is going to ream him out, but she just laughs. “Okay, maybe that. But, I think it will be put to better use here.” She pours a glass for each of us.
Mira holds hers up in a toast. “To new beginnings…”
“And fresh starts,” Father adds.
“Here, here,” Mother and I say in unison as we all clink glasses.
29
MIRA
“It’s time.”
Trish has us on a strict schedule. I take off my robe. Silvy holds the dress so I can step into it. They don’t let me look in the mirror until it is all zipped up.
“It’s amazing. Where did you get it?”
“It was my mom’s.”
My confession leaves a lump in my throat. The dress is simple, by human standards. The fact that it’s white is what makes it so unusual. Kiphian garments for special occasions are made from dyes of the rarest plants and minerals. They never developed a method for bleaching the soft beige color out of the cloth made from what they call the weaving plant.
There is a knock at the door.
“I have the flowers.”
My friends look at each other, then at me. I check my reflection in the mirror. Renxel and I are to walk through the village to the priestess’s house together. He did research to ask who was going to give me away. Since my father couldn’t do it, we decided to do the Kiphian way.
“Let him in. No, wait a second.” I turn to face the door and smooth my dress out. “How do I look?” Trish looks me up and down and nods. “Okay.”
The door opens and he’s there. The tunic he is wearing is a brilliant blue, the sash green. In his hand is a huge bunch of wildflowers.
“Mira, you…”
“You’re speechless? You?”
He smiles at me. Our eyes connect, and I feel the familiar warmth flood through me. It’s not just love. It’s peace and security, too. It’s everything. He thrusts the flowers at me.
“Thanks.” Trish rescues me. She quickly divides the huge bouquet into one medium one and four small nosegays. She hands me mine. “Perfect, Renxel, you did good.”
He holds out his arm to me, and I grab it.
“I thought if humans did flowers you should have a lot.”
I stick my nose into his gift and then look up at him.
“I love it.”
Our destination is only a couple of blocks away, but we have to march down the main street of the town. My friends form a line behind us, dividing us from the residents who join us. I can hear the comments from the townspeople.
“Look at her dress.”
“I want a dress like that when I’m mated!”
“My parents.” Renxel’s whisper makes me turn my head.
