Page 136 of A Reign of Roses
37
Arwen
Mari hadn’t said wearing blackon my wedding day was a bad omen exactly, but shehadbrought me six different white dresses from her wardrobe, each with more detail than the last, until I physically couldn’t see my way through all the lace and tulle.
Her focused expression and insistent hands, pushing eyelet lace at me like it was gospel, brightened the entire closet. It wouldn’t be instantaneous, but Mari had already begun to find herself again, and I was grateful. I’d missed her spirit tremendously.
“I’m going to stick with this one,” I told her. “Please don’t groan again.”
“Fine.” She sighed, propping herself against the only armoire not piled high with white chiffon. “I suppose it isyourday.”
I studied myself in the full-length mirror. My long chestnut hair, lightly curled and pulled back into my now well-worn onyx bow. The brightness in my eyes. Fullness in my cheeks. Strength in my bones and muscles. “I suppose it is.”
As I looked down at the black tea-length dress I’d borrowed from Mari so long ago—the one I’d worn to Kane’s forum—I couldn’t deny how much I felt likeme.It was the dress I’d worn when I’d first thought I might belong here.
Acorn’s scampering sounded from Kane’s attached study and I listened as he scurried into the bedroom. We glided from the large closet to greet him, his birdlike head nuzzling my palm for scratches.
“I can’t believe you’ve befriended the beast,” Mari said, though I could hear the smile in her voice.
“He’s actually a big softie.Aren’t you?”
The strix nuzzled into my legs and hummed happily.
Despite the slight apprehension she had around the creature, Mari looked sunny and luminous. Her cap-sleeved periwinkle gown had a sweetheart neckline that showed off the dusting of freckles along her collarbone, and the crepe fabric was light and easy, spilling along the floor as she walked.
Dagan surveyed us both, his embroidered, indigo tunic a welcome change from the swordsman’s usual aged armor. But he hadn’t matched the fine apparel with dress shoes, opting instead to keep his trusty scuffed boots on, which brought me a strange comfort.
“Ready?” he asked.
“I think so.” I appraised myself. “How do I look?”
“I am rarely one for sentimentality, but…” Dagan cleared his throat. “Quite lovely.”
Mari squealed with delight, Acorn mimicked the sound, and a grin tugged at my cheeks. “Thank you. Both.”
“I have something for you,” Dagan said quietly.
“A wedding gift!” Mari chimed.
I shot her a look—I got the feeling Dagan might scare easily.
The old swordsman only shook his head and pulled a creasedenvelope from his pocket. I wondered if he didn’t look a little embarrassed. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a note.”
“Thank you,” I said, heart swelling with appreciation. My fingers slipped under the outer edge to tear it open, but Dagan’s dry, cracked hands stilled my own. “No gifts yet. After the wedding.”
“He’s right,” Mari added. “Another bad omen.”
“Of course,” I said, placing the letter on Kane’s desk. “After, then.”
Dagan offered a slight smile and tipped his elbow out for me to take. “Any nerves?”
And it might have been the first time I looked into Dagan’s warm, wrinkled face—after months and months of so much fear and so little courage and about a thousand different variations of panic and anxiety—and shook my head. “None at all.”
After making our way through a lively Shadowhold filled with children ringing bells and throwing rice, Mari, Dagan, and I made the hike up the mighty stairs to the temple, which put the library climb to shame.
Overhead, a decorated ceiling arched high and allowed for ample sunny winter light to filter in. A few thickly vined plants spilled from whitewashed ceramic pottery, and vibrant stained glass depicted all nine stones, none more prominently than the rich black onyx, which cast the room in a soft violet glow.
Between the pews, in time to the harp’s poignant tune, Dagan walked me toward Kane.
