Page 73 of Wicked Salvation

When she hands it to me, I let it sit, watching the steam fade.

Then my motherreallystarts talking.

The florists. The cathedral. The star-studded guest list. She’s in rapture over it all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy. It’s like a fairytale coming true.

“My daughter,” she beams. “The future Duchess of Surrey.”

The title hits like ice water.

I smile because that’s what’s expected of me. But my body still hurts from my future husband’s “love” and it makes me nauseous. I take a sip of the tea then, hoping it will steady me, but it goes down like glass.

“Remember I need the details about your bridesmaids,” she says, over her steaming cup of tea. “We’ve invited the Wilson-Sings and the Malones. Araminta and Audrey attended Spearcrest with you, didn’t they? I’m sure they’d love to be a part of the wedding of the century.”

There’s a stone in my chest

Yes, I know Araminta Wilson-Sing and Audrey Malone, they were two of the sweetest girls at the school—the ones who didn’t think I was awkward. Spearcrest was quite a strange experience for me. I had all the money and connections to put me at the top of the school’s social hierarchy. But never the personality.

Still, it seems like I have no choice but to reach out to them.

Hopefully they won’t find ittoostrange and actually agree to do it.

“I think Eleanor, Araminta and Audrey will work.”

My mother pauses mid-sip. “I suppose I shall send Eleanor’s family an invitation, then.”

“You didn’t invite her?” My jaw slackens.

She brushes me off. “Oh, don’t get too upset. The cathedral only seats about six-hundred. It’s been quite the feat to invite everyone who should be there.” She sets her tea down. “Eleanor and her family will be there, I promise.” She gives me a saccharine smile. “Please reach out to them in the next 48 hours,so that when I contact them in three days they’re not taken off guard by my requests.”

I nod.

We drink the rest of our tea, mostly in silence. I talk about Literature class but leave out Lucian. I don’t linger on Vivienne’s death, only that my new roommate is of “poor breeding.” I even mention how Silas and I took a romantic trip into town.

That particular lie felt like needles on my tongue.

She claps her hands as soon as we’re both finished. Housekeepers materialize to clear the table while my mother stands and smooths out her dress.

“Come, come, Eden. Upstairs now,” she says with another grin that unnerves me. I’ve spent my entire life watching this woman scowl at me. A smile from her feels out of place, almost predatory. But I try to calm the anxiety snaking up my back and accept her love. “Hair and makeup are waiting. I was able to snag Carine Fleu on short notice. She did the last Met Gala. You’ll be the most photographed woman there, so we have to make sure that you look impeccable.”

I nod and rise.

As I turn, her hand brushes my collarbone.

I flinch. She freezes.

“What’s this?” Her voice falls flat.

I know what she sees. The faint bloom of a bruise—barely there now, but still a shadow on my skin. A souvenir from Silas. From a night where I said the wrong thing in the wrong tone.

She pokes it. I flinch again.

Her eyes don’t narrow. She doesn’t scold. She just looks.

I hold my breath as I imagine her telling me that what he’s doing to me isn’t right. That I shouldn’t get married to him if this is how he’s going to treat me—that she’ll protect me from him, because she doesn’t want to lose her only daughter to his violence.

But she only clicks her tongue and smooths my hair behind my ear.

“We’ll cover it,” she says. Calm and clinical, like it’s a stain on a dress. “No one needs to see something so unbecoming.”