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Mara thought she would cry seeing herself in a long, regal gown. But the tears never came.

Her wedding dress was a long cream color with only one layer of underskirts to keep the cloth closer to her skin. The bodice was embroidered with threads a powdery green, reminiscent of the soft turning juniper leaves, the pattern resembling the roots of a tree. Her sleeves were fitted to her elbow, then danced out in long tufts of muslin. The edges were gilded in unnatural silver, the seams of her dress looking like she had a pool of melted stardust shadowing her. Her eyes were painted with a silver glimmer, and she wore a sparkling circlet to match with an emerald jewel in the center.

She scowled at herself in the mirror while her handmaidens yanked and pulled her dress taut. The wedding was to be a small affair and something about that bothered Mara. Maybe she was worried there wouldn’t be enough people to witness Acastus’ cruelty.

Mara had clutched the one solo letter Avor had sent her and her eyes traced across every word. He wasn’t going to make it to her wedding. She knew that now. She knew the darkness preventing his travel through the Sandwoods had to do with the prince setting the kingdoms out of balance. Her brother wasn’t going to swoop in and save her. She had to save herself.

Mara gave herself one last pitiful appraisal in her mirror, wanting to shatter it to pieces as her reflection taunted her. Why did she have to be cursed with this terrible ability? She wished she never felt the power at her fingertips.

But if she couldn’t glassfaire for the prince, she was sure he would have simply found someone else from the Glass Court.

“From the prince,” a woman’s voice spoke, breaking Mara free from her thoughts.

Mara turned to the handmaiden, outstretching a bouquet of bleeding-heart flowers. Mara laughed loudly, taking the bushel from her. The other women looked at her with unease as the princess broke down in a fit of giggles.

Mara wiped the tears from her eyes and walked to her door. “Let us get this over with.”

“Don’t sound so eager, Princess. One might think you’ve truly fallen for the prince.”

The familiar voice startled her as her door swung open to reveal Evrardin. He was donned in fine armor that she had seen the other guards wearing, but Evrardin seemed himself above. The silver plates matched Mara’s starlight gown. Her eyes traced Evrardin’s body, neither of them smiling at his jest.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said finally.

“No? And where might I have been instead?”

Oh, she hated how nonchalant he was acting. As if her world wasn’t crashing down on her. As if he didn’t know or care about her fate.

“Gathering innocent hearts for the prince, I presume,” she said sweetly. Evrardin tensed, clearly not expecting her to outwardly state Evrardin’s missive for the prince when others were around. She grinned, knowing that it irritated him. It was a shot in the dark after seeing that bucket filled with hearts in the catacombs, but with the way Evrardin stiffened, she knew it to be true.

A bead of sweat rolled down Evrardin’s face, getting lost in his beard. “You can play later.” Evrardin gestured down the hall. Mara raised a brow, studying the tension that spun behind his inner workings. It was like he had been pulled so tight that with one sudden movement, he’d tear apart.

As they started toward the cathedral, warm light glistened over Mara’s dress and weaved in through her chiffon veil that hung off her chignon. She twiddled her fingers around the flower’s stems. It was only her, Evrardin, and two other guards who shadowed them in the halls. She looked up at him, but that was a mistake; he had never seen his eyebrows quite so knitted together. His fist was turning white from how hard he was holding his sword’s pommel.

“The petals… I had?—”

His eyes darted dangerously to hers. “Do not tell me anything,” he all but growled.

She held his gaze until they reached the staircase, having to hike up her dress and watch where she was going. Evrardin offered his arm, and Mara took it without hesitation, much to her surprise.

He sighed. “I’ll have to report anything you tell me to him. It’s not that I don’t want to know.”

They turned a bend on the stairs.

“I know.”

When they finally got to the cathedral’s entrance, blood rushed so loudly in her ears that Mara couldn’t hear the limited voices inside. She hated how complicated her relationship with the captain had become. She wondered if it would ever unwind itself, smoothing out all the kinks and wrinkles they seemed keen on leaving behind on the fabric of their fondness for one another.

She prayed to the sun goddess painted above the archway. She prayed she was right in assuming she was going to have to glassfaire almost immediately after bonding with Acastus, her throat still lingering with the foul taste of the draugr flower. And she prayed she’d have the strength and wit to do whatever it was she needed.

“Some words of encouragement would be nice,” she said quietly, not realizing she said it out loud.

Evrardin shook his head, letting her arm fall back to her side. “Unfortunately, I have none.”