Page 50 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

“Are you nervous?” Amelie met my gaze in the vanity mirror. I sat before it while she worked on my hair.

“No, I’m not,” I told her with a small smile. I’d never been so sure about anything in my life.

“Of course, you’re not—what a silly question.

After everything you went through to get Henry back, why would you be nervous about marrying him?

” The girl muttered as if to herself. “I have to admit, I didn’t understand it at first. When Celeste told me you went…

” Bright green eyes shot to mine in the mirror.

“Unhinged?” I prompted.

Amelie grimaced but nodded.

“I couldn’t understand it at first, but I think I’m beginning to now…” she trailed off, her cheeks turning pink.

“You like Waylon,” I said a moment later.

Amelie swallowed before words began spilling out of her.

“I have these…feelings in my chest, in my heart, and mostly they bring me joy, but…sometimes they terrify me,” she rambled, mindlessly worrying the loose strands of my hair.

She’d pinned the top half up, leaving the bottom to cascade down my back.

“I’ve never had feelings like these toward anyone.

I’ve only ever read about them in books.

It’s so scary to fall…” she caught herself, releasing a shuddering breath.

When I went to turn away from the mirror, she realized what she was doing with my hair and let go of the silky locks.

“Did Waylon tell you about our history?” I asked, as I rose from the chair and faced her.

“He did, and I have to admit it made me a bit jealous at first when he told me,” Amelie said, meeting my gaze. “But then I saw you with Henry, and seeing you two together erased any doubts from my mind. It’s obvious you only have eyes for each other.”

I inclined my head in confirmation she didn’t need.

“I only asked if you knew about Waylon and me to tell you that we’ve known each other for a long time.” I clasped her delicate hands. “Waylon is a good man, so if you fall, he will be there to catch you.”

“Like Henry caught you?” she asked, and my lips curved into a smile.

“Yes.” My gaze grew distant as I thought about it. “I think he was catching me even before I knew I was falling.”

My breath hitched as my chest became too tight, struggling to contain the love I felt for him.

I took a steadying inhale and refocused on Amelie.

“But because Waylon is a good man, I need you to promise me something.” My gaze fastened on hers to make sure she was listening and paying attention.

“When you fall, and he catches you, you will have to catch him in return.”

“I will,” Amelie whispered as if making a vow.

I smiled at the young witch, and she smiled right back, her pretty face lighting up with girlish excitement.

“Isabelle’s here,” I said, letting go of Amelie’s hands.

My vampire ears had picked up on her approach a few seconds before.

When she rapped her knuckles on my bedroom door and walked in, I turned toward her.

“Are you ready for your wedding dress?” she asked, holding up a long, ivory-hued gown with lace overlay.

My smile grew as I took in the gown. The flutter sleeves were short and made entirely of lace, while the neckline was in the shape of a V but didn’t plunge too deep. The dress was simple and elegant and instantly felt like me.

“Did you select the gown yourself?” I asked Isabelle, my eyebrows raised.

“I did.” She inclined her head, looking proud of the fact. “I would have picked something more revealing to flaunt your slender form, but I know your taste is different from mine.”

“It’s perfect,” I breathed, reaching out to brush my fingers over the lace. “Thank you.” I lifted my gaze to Isabelle’s. “For everything.”

I was grateful to her for so many things.

For fighting with Henry against the clans after he’d sent me away, for rushing to his side to help him when I’d shown up at the estate with his limp body in my arms, for not tearing out my throat when she’d realized that I was the one who’d hurt him, but most of all for telling me not to give up on our love even when she’d been scared I would take him away from her.

Isabelle’s stunning features softened as we stared at each other.

“Thank you for making Henry happy,” she said. “And if you ever hurt him again, I will kill you,” she added, but her mouth twitched as if she were fighting a smile.

I didn’t hide my own smile as I said, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

When I turned back to Amelie, her eyes were wide as they darted between Isabelle and me.

“If that interaction was sweet by vampire standards, I don’t want to know what you do when you’re mad at each other,” the girl said, and Isabelle and I both chuckled at the comment.

“Let’s hope you never have to find out,” Isabelle remarked, taking the dress off the hanger. “Let’s get you into this gown so my brother can marry you. He’s practically bursting with anticipation.”

“Actually, I’ll get myself dressed,” I told her. “I’d like a few minutes alone.”

Isabelle’s sharp gaze flicked over me, and she looked like she wanted to argue.

She must have decided against it because she said, “Of course. We’ll be in the ballroom along with everyone else.” She draped the dress over the chair by the vanity and headed for the door. “Sophie,” she said, stopping on her way out. “Henry is waiting for you. Don’t make him wait too long.”

“I won’t,” I promised, with a small smile that I hoped would put her at ease.

It did, and with a nod, she swept from the room.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Amelie asked, halting by the door after Isabelle had left.

“I’m sure,” I assured her.

“What you said about Waylon…thank you for that,” the witch said, her cheeks pink again as she turned to leave.

“You’re welcome.”

After she’d ducked her chin and slipped out of the door, I quickly changed into my wedding gown.

My hands trembled slightly as I ran them down the lacy silk skirt.

It wasn’t nervousness that had invaded my senses—it was excitement and anticipation.

I’d asked for a few minutes alone, but not because I needed to steel myself.

I’d wanted this time to let what was happening truly sink in, so I could soak in this moment and revel in it.

I knew what Henry and I were about to do wouldn’t change anything between us. I was already his, and he was mine, but this moment still felt special, and I wanted to lock it away in my heart as a happy memory, which I knew would be one of many to come.

I stepped into my low-heeled shoes and clasped the locket holding the portrait of my mother behind my neck.

I decided to forgo wearing the Tear tonight, leaving it where it was stowed away in the vanity drawer.

My gaze settled on the locket on my chest in the mirror’s reflection.

My mother couldn’t be here with me on my special day, but she was here with me in spirit.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt a hand land on my shoulder, making me suck in a sharp breath.

No one else was in the room, but I felt my mother with me.

Standing behind me, she was clasping my shoulder just like she’d done on the night I’d defeated the Dark Witches.

Peace and serenity washed over me…and love.

My mother’s love felt different from Henry’s.

His was powerful and smoky—a worship with a hint of spice.

Hers was no less powerful but also radiant—the love of a mother for her child.

I breathed in deeply, inhaling that love, filling my lungs and my heart with it.

My mother was here with me, and she approved of my union with Henry, just like I knew she would.

A smile tugged at my lips and my eyes were bright when I cast one last look at myself in the mirror before walking out of my bedroom.

My smile grew the closer I got to the ballroom.

I couldn’t wait to see Henry. I couldn’t wait to make him mine in every definition of the word and declare in front of everyone that I was his forever.

Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me with supernatural speed, and a few seconds later, I skidded to a stop in front of the closed ballroom door.

I halted right by my father, who jumped when I appeared before him as if out of thin air.

“Sorry.” I gave a small, apologetic smile.

“It’s okay.” He squared his shoulders. It was strange seeing him in the finely cut clothes Isabelle had picked for him, but he wore it well, looking like he could be a nobleman in another life. “Sophie,” he said, his voice catching as he took me in. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I told him, smoothing out my hair that had gotten tousled from my sprint through the halls.

“Are you ready?” Ezra asked from where he stood by the door.

I nodded, curling my arm around my father’s, and he straightened and lifted his chin as Ezra opened the double doors.

Brightly lit ballroom greeted me, tastefully decorated for the occasion.

Isabelle and Amelie must have worked on it together, because red roses and bold, gilded elements were carefully woven in with more subtle, delicate flowers and accents.

I waited for my father to start walking, but he hesitated.

When I glanced at him, I found him watching me with a mix of pride and awe on his aged face.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Of whom you’ve become and what you’ve accomplished.”

My heart squeezed in my chest as I stared at him, at a loss for words.

“Your mother would be proud, too,” he continued. “If only she could see you now…” he trailed off as tears filled his eyes.

“I think she can,” I told him past the lump in my throat. “I feel like she’s here with us.”

My father glanced behind me as if he thought he’d see her standing there.

“I think you’re right,” he said a moment later, his gaze refocusing on me. “I love you, Sophie.”

“I love you, Father.”