Chapter 74 Serena
SERENA
“Shit,” I squeak, dropping the silk gown and the pushpin that just accosted me.
Igrid’s cerulean eyes flash up to mine as a black bead forms on my fingertip.
“Oh, no, did I get you, missy?”
She pauses sticking tiny pins along the bottom of my bridesmaid dress for tomorrow.
I shake my head. “It was all me. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Mar glances up from the book in her lap. Dover is snoozing beside her, his cheek propped on his hand.
“I’m almost through here,” Igrid promises.
“Still too long in my humble opinion.”
I turn toward Kai—who is, of course, making himself at home on my bed. “You think so? It has to at least come to the top of my shoes.”
He sighs, sliding off the bed and sauntering over. “You don’t want to be tripping over yourself all evening. We’re all well acquainted with your level of coordination.”
“Wow, nice.”
“I think it has to be at least—” He reaches down, hoisting the dress up to my thigh. “There. That’s perfect.”
“You little shit.” I give him a playful shove, turning when I hear a light knock on my door.
Jace steps through, drinking in the sight of me in the silver floor-length gown.
“You’re going to catch flies if you don’t close your mouth, Captain,” Mar mutters, flipping a page. “Forgive me, I mean, King,” she says, not an ounce of apology in her voice.
Jace’s face turns red as he blinks away from me. “Kai said we were meeting here.”
Right on cue, Kai ambles toward him, rubbing his hands together in a diabolical manner.
“Jace, you devil! Last night of freedom,” he sings, kicking Dover awake. “You don’t expect we’ll let you live it peacefully, do you?”
Jace looks mortified.
“Don’t give me that look. I’ve taken great care in planning tonight’s festivities!” Kai grips the back of his neck and gives him a shake, mischief oozing from his every pore.
“Any excuse for debauchery.” Dover sits up, stretching his arms toward the painted ceiling. He leans in to plant a quick kiss on Mar’s cheek as Kai hauls Jace toward the door.
“Do not do anything stupid.” Mar closes her book. “Kai, I’m serious. He has to walk down an aisle tomorrow!”
“He’ll be good as new by morning. Cross my heart.” He winks. “Don’t wait up.”
“Didn’t plan on it.”
Igrid stands, sticking a spare pin back into its velvet cushion. “All done. I’ll have it ready by morning.”
“Thank you, Igrid.” I offer her as much of a smile as I can, slipping out of the dress and into the silk robe she holds out.
“How are you?” Mar asks once we’re alone.
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that. It’s a wedding, not a funeral.”
She angles her head, giving me a doubtful look. “It’s not just any old wedding.”
“Still. I’m fine.”
“I never liked weddings.” Mar gets to her feet. “But if the boys get to have their fun, then so do we.”
A few minutes later, we’re knocking on Sorscha’s door. She and Cece are already inside, relatively drunk, surrounded by towers of colorful miniature cakes and pastries.
“My friends!” Sorscha throws her arms around Mar’s neck and then mine. I’m glad to see her spirits a bit higher, but there is no warmth behind her energy. It’s surface-level. Almost manic.
Cece’s suspicious gaze shifts toward me as I slide into a seat at the table across from her.
“Wonder what the boys are getting up to this evening,” she muses, shuffling a deck of playing cards.
“If I know Kai—booze, drugs, and females. Not necessarily in that order,” Sorscha says, moving toward the bar cart.
Mar snorts. “You left out thievery and arson.”
My brows shoot up. “Arson?”
Waving a hand, she says, “He claims it was an accident. No one got hurt. Let’s just say his ‘acquaintance’ with the pirates goes way back.”
“I’m sure Zadyn will keep them in line tonight,” Sorscha mutters offhandedly, pouring herself a glass of bubbles.
“Zadyn didn’t go.” Sorscha cocks her head at me. “At least I don’t think he did.”
Then again, who knows? He continues to avoid me after the tragic makeout debacle.
“He had something better to do?” Cece asks.
“I’m not sure. He’s probably with the Prince of Hyrax.”
A loud clank sounds from the other side of the room.
Our heads snap toward Sorscha, bracing the bottle she nearly toppled over on the bar cart. Pink flashes across her cheeks. She’s not usually clumsy.
“Huh. Thought you two were attached at the hip.” Cece sifts the cards through her nimble fingers, sizing me up with that cat-like stare designed to cut through to the bone.
I flash her a smile. “We are.”
“What’s all this?” Mar asks, moving toward a large chest full of white garments.
“Wedding gifts,” Cece boasts, “from your mate’s fiancé’s family.”
“Wyneth’s family sent these?”
“Along with an entire trove of rare jewels.”
“How generous,” Mar deadpans, fishing out some lacy lingerie and holding it up to her chest. “For the honeymoon tour?”
Sorscha glances over. “If there even is one. Given the current state of things, our travels may have to wait. Who knows if there will even be a wedding night.”
I try to force the dark flashes of Jace and Sorscha tangling together from my head, but they keep sprouting up like stubborn weeds.
“Wear that, and there will be.” Cece nods toward the stringy thing in Mar’s hands.
“Where does this even go?” she marvels, turning the contraption—for lack of a better word—upside down.
“This is a marriage of convenience,” Sorscha says to Cece. “Besides, I can’t imagine Jace being ensnared by such things. He doesn’t strike me as a male who cares for frills and lace.”
“He’s male,” Cece drones. “Of course he does. And if that fails, simply throw yourself into peril. I hear he has a weakness for damsels in distress.”
She sends a pointed look my way. I don’t deign to respond, although that statement was clearly for my benefit. Mar squeals, drawing our attention as she pulls something with ostrich feathers out of the trunk.
“This. Is. Hideous. You have to try it on.”
Sorscha grimaces. “It’s a monstrosity.”
“Which is why I need to see it on you,” Mar begs. “It’s a matter of life and death. Please. It will prove my theory that you can make even the most hideous fashions look court-worthy.”
Sorscha begrudgingly snatches up the garment and slips behind the changing panel. Cece picks up right where she left off.
“It was awfully heroic of him to aid in your rescue. Although surely Zadyn had the situation under control.”
Another shot fired.
“I owe both of them my life.” I’m not letting her rile me. Not tonight. “Mar too.”
“And Dover and Kai. It must have been thrilling for you.”
“What?”
“Having every male in the kingdom clambering to save you.”
“I assure you it was anything but glamorous.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Cece,” Mar warns.
I lower my voice, leaning across the table so the bitch can hear every word crystal clear.
“Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Kai get the shit kicked out of him while I was wasting away inside of a prison cell wondering if everyone I loved was already dead. It was a real riot.”
A hollow laugh slips past her painted lips.
“Perhaps I was wrong before.” Cece presses closer, emerald eyes prowling. “Maybe Jace holds no interest in frills and lace. Perhaps he prefers calloused hands and fighting leathers. Maybe he’s a fan of fire.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I grit, seconds from losing my cool.
“No?”
“What exactly are you implying?”
“Nothing everyone hasn’t already considered.”
“Enough,” Mar hisses as Sorscha appears in the ugliest outfit I have ever seen. She does a twirl and holds up her hands.
“Are you pleased?”
“Oh, they should paint your portrait in that!” Mar cackles, clapping her hands. Even Cece and I pause our little standoff to laugh.
We continue to drink as Mar forces Sorscha to try on the rest of the trunk’s contents. She finally emerges dressed in one of her signature pink gowns and tosses the last of the garments back into the trunk with a sigh.
“All this for a wedding.”
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Mar assures her.
“I suppose.” She sounds utterly unconvinced, her voice vacant.
“Let’s make a toast.”
Phew, Mar to the rescue.
She pours some champagne and passes it around to us. “To our darling Sorscha and Jace. Long may you reign.”
“To the unexpected.” Sorscha clinks her coupe against Mar’s. “And to the death of freedom.”
She doesn’t wait for a response before tossing back the drink in one go. Without a beat in between, she pours herself another. An awkward silence settles.
And just like that, this is back to being the most uncomfortable bachelorette party in the history of the world.
“You might want to ease up on that, Sorsch. Tomorrow is going to be an early day.”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” she says to Mar, moving to lean against the windowsill.
She’s lost weight since we got back to Aegar. She’s still beautiful in the extreme, only now it’s a haunted sort of beauty.
“What’s the matter, Sorscha? Getting cold feet?” Cece sips her drink.
“I’m not certain they were ever warm.”
“You could do worse.” Cece twists a lock of golden hair around her finger. “He’s a far cry from unattractive. A bit rough around the edges, but that’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“That is not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“This is wrong.” Sorscha turns to us, deadly serious. “This is a mistake…”
“It shouldn’t feel like that.” For once, Cece actually sounds sincere.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Sorscha comes as close to snapping as she physically can, then resumes staring off into the night.
I’m almost afraid to move closer. “Sorscha? You alright?”
Her head slowly swivels back to us. “Let’s go out. I need some air.”
The night is void of stars as we make our way to the stables in silence, the moon looking full and fat as if she gobbled them up and absorbed all of their eerie light. We dress a few horses and head toward the flowered path that winds the gardens.
A loud bray sounds from behind me. I twist around in the saddle as Sorscha snaps her reins and speeds off into the dark woods.
“Sorscha!”