Page 166 of Owned

I didn’t want Lucian to see me this way.

But every dark crystal was a reminder of what awaited me.

Tomorrow.

My reflection wavered, a ghostly mirage.

I lift a trembling hand to trace my fingertips over the edge of the deep-v of the neckline.

A silent woman knelt at my feet. With silver pins pinched between her lips, her gaze flickered over her handiwork. She had made every adjustment without my opinion or input—but the fit was undeniably perfect. Her black eyes were filled with satisfaction as she surveyed me critically.

Not so long ago, I would have cringed and cowered rather than be looked at for any length of time.

But the grimoire’s whispers rose in my mind like a viper and my chin lifted as I stood still and rooted.

Waiting to strike.

The lace gripped me like a lover's hands.

Every part of this dress had been crafted for someone else—

Not someone else.

My mother.

I had seen the gown in Julia’s closet before she—

My jaw tightened.

Before he had taken her life. Her power.

“Your power,”the grimoire hissed.

Yes.

My power.

I stood straighter and turned my shoulders. The dress caught the light, and the beads shone like liquid onyx flowing down my frame. Their dark shimmer reflected the world that had trapped me—a world that was consuming me piece by piece.

I had never imagined my wedding day.

I had never drawn sketches of the gown I wanted to wear, or imagined what the cake would taste like.

Why would I?

That was for other girls. Girls from powerful families with useful magic and proper connections.

Not for me.

And now I stood on a padded stool as a woman who hadn’t spoken a single word to me beyond instructions to move or stop moving hemmed an oppressively exquisite gown I hadn’t chosen, for a wedding day I didn’t want.

Poetic.

Tragic.

Fucking horrifying.

“But your promise—”The grimoire’s whisper was a comforting weight in my mind.

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