Page 8 of Enthralled

No one understands. Not like we do.

With a sudden moan I turn from the mirror, staring into the shadows behind me. No ghoulish figure stands at my shoulder. I am alone. Just like I’ve always been.

Fingers trembling, I undress and get into bed. But I don’t blow out Danny’s candle. Instead I lie for a long while, my head on my pillow, watching the wax melt. Watching the light burn lower, lower, lower. Watching until it finally gutters and goes out.

In the darkness that follows, I become aware of a presence, sitting unseen in the corner of my chamber. It does not move. It does not speak. Neither does it leave.

But when dawn finally creeps through my window, the room is empty.

“Dearest, you’re going to burst a seam if you keep tugging on that bodice.”

Kitty catches my hand, clenching it tight in hers to prevent me from messing with all the hard work she’d put into remaking her mother’s gown to satisfy more current fashions and my current proportions. Apparently I’m not quite as trim in the waist as Mrs. Gale was on her wedding day. Kitty was obliged to insert a discreet gusset, and even so, the maid who dressed me this morning cinched my corset much tighter than I like. The combination worked, and the gown fits like a glove. But I am uncomfortable and perspiring under copious layers of satin and lace.

Kitty’s gloved fingers interlock with mine, offering both comfort and support. We’re standing together in the foyer of the Chapel of Nornala, the Goddess of Unity. Roses and silver eucalyptus adorn the doorway, symbols of love and good fortune for the bride to pass under. More roses are tucked into my wedding bouquet along with sprigs of pungent lavender.

It’s the lavender that makes me nauseated. I’m sure of it. I want to pluck it out and throw it away before I’m sick right on the floor.

“You are so beautiful,” Kitty says, as though that’s my greatest concern just now. “I think half of Danny’s colleagues at Westbend Charity don’t believe he really has a sweetheart! Won’t they just drop their teeth in surprise when they get a first look at you?”

The knots in my stomach tighten. Beyond the foyer doors is the long aisle leading to the altar where a priestess waits to say the sacred blessings over our heads while Danny and I kneel together, hand-in-hand. The gathered witnesses include Danny’s colleagues from work and a handful of social acquaintances, some of whom I knew back before . . . well, back before good society forsook me and all my family. These are the people who will watch me pledge my life to Danny. Strangers and worse than strangers—people who were once my friends. I’ll be accepted back into their number now, once I’ve parted myself irrevocably from my wayward brother and all the scorn associated with my father’s name. But I’ll never be one of them. I’ll never belong.

My chest is tight, my head dizzy. I struggle to draw a full breath. But Kitty peers at me with such earnest concern, and I cannot bear to let her down. So I smile and say only, “It’s the dress. That’s all. You really did work wonders over it.”

Kitty preens at the compliment. Just then music begins to play on the far side of the door, the deep, droning hum of an organ.Nornala’s Processional,a traditional wedding anthem, seems to fill the whole building, vibrating even through the cracks in the mortar and stone.

The butterflies in my stomach start doing backflips. “Kitty! I don’t think I can do this.”

Kitty laughs softly. “Nonsense, you goose. It’ll all be over in a moment, so just try not to be sick on Danny’s shoes before you’ve saidI do.” She drops a kiss on my cheek then slips my veil down to cover my face. “I’ll see you in a moment. Wait for your queue!” With that, she opens the door to the inner chapel and steps inside, marching solemnly in time to the music. Many eager eyes turn to watch her, while others look back to the doorway, awaiting my appearance.

I feel ill. Terribly ill. I haven’t seen Danny since last night, since our parting at the base of the stairs. Maybe it would be easier if we’d had a moment together over breakfast, if we’d had a chance to discuss what was said and what is to come. Right now I feel as though I’m about to march myself out there and pledge my life to a stranger.

The processional continues, building up to a grand climax. I take one step toward the doorway, toward that arch of roses and eucalyptus. That step brings me within line of sight with the altar. I see the priestess standing solemnly beneath the image of Nornala wrought in stained glass. I see Kitty just reaching the end of the aisle, taking her place and turning to smile back at me.

And I see Danny. Tall, handsome. Clad in a gray morning suit. In full view of everyone he knows. Looking white as death, his hands clenched firmly before him as though bracing for battle. He swallows hard.

Then he looks up and meets my gaze directly.

A knife of ice stabs through my chest. Gasping, I stumble back from the arch and pivot on heel. I have no reason, no explanation. None of this makes sense in my head. I know only that I must get out of here. Morning light streams through the stained glass adorning the chapel door. I lunge into that light, heedless of how I crush my bouquet as I force the door open and stagger out into the street. Both hands pressed against my temples, I drag great gulps of air into my lungs. Cacophony fills my head, wordless noise without meaning. But wait . . . no. It’s not wordless. There are voices in my head. Small, childish voices.

“Mar!”

“Mar!”

“Where are you, Mar?”

“Come back.”

“Come back.”

“Come back to us.”

And underscoring those voices, more intense and dreadful, more beautiful by far, is another: “Where are you, Darling?”

“I’m here,” I whisper, turning to look behind me. “I’m here, I’m here!”

A burst of light fills my vision, morning sunglow, blinding and beautiful. It seems to gather in front of me, like the sun itself has fallen from the sky and even now approaches along the sidewalk. I throw up an arm to shield myself from that glare even as I strain to discern the figure in the center of it. Fear jolts through my veins, urging me to flee back into the chapel, to fling myself at the foot of the altar and beg the goddess for safety. But I cannot move. The light draws nearer, and that strange, glowing figure takes on more definite shape. An angel? It must be, for what else could explain those widespread, glittering wings? Awe sweeps over me, and I nearly drop to my knees in worshipful wonder. Only a last shred of stubbornness keeps me upright.

The beaming aura fades, and an image of pure glory manifests before me, so shocking, the rest of the world seems to melt away. The chapel, the other buildings, the street, any passersby, all simply fade into unreality compared to this being. This woman. This magnificent creature, taller than any man I’ve ever met. Great coiling horns like gazelle antlers spring from her forehead, ornately painted in patterns of gold. Her hair is pale and shimmering, wound in a crown atop her head, more beautiful than any diadem. Her gown is pink as new dawn and lightly drapes her powerful form, revealing far more than it conceals behind its translucent folds.

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