Magic Binds(126)
“Good things,” Evdokia told her.
“She will thank us later.” Sienna winked at me.
I stood in a huge tent set up in the Five Hundred Acre wood, while Fiona, Andrea, and Julie put the final touches on my wedding outfit. The night had fallen, the magic was in full swing, and the tent was lit by bright golden globes Roman had found somewhere and set up. The light was warm and cheerful, the tent smelled of honeysuckle, and all my friends were here. For some odd reason I felt completely terrified.
The three witches of the Witch Oracle had come in to bring a flower crown woven of beautiful white flowers that looked like tiny tulips with pointed petals, and never left. Dali had come in for something and never left either. Desandra brought fruit and parked herself in the corner. Adora sat quietly by the entrance. I had a feeling she had decided to guard it. Martina, Ascanio’s mother, was munching on some pastries next to her.
The flap of the tent opened and Martha came in, followed by George.
Behind her Mahon’s voice roared. “I will have cider if I damn well please.”
Martha sighed. “The man is in a wheelchair. He lost half his weight. He’s bald like a cue ball and all he wants is his cider.”
“Let Dad have his cider,” George said. “He earned it.”
“He’ll be sick tonight, mark my words.”
George grinned. “Here, Kate, we brought you a glass of wine. For courage.”
Only three days had passed since the battle. I’d offered to postpone the wedding, but Curran insisted.
Martha walked up to me and patted my cheek. “You look beautiful. That boy has no idea how lucky he is.”
“I’m sorry. We should’ve waited.”
“No.” Something hot and angry flashed in the older woman’s eyes. “Don’t you dare be sorry. That man may have almost taken my husband from me, but he won’t take the joy out of my son’s wedding. We celebrate. That’s what Mahon wants and this is what I want.”
Silence claimed the tent.
“Okay!” George said. “Now that Mom’s done being scary, here is your wine.”
“Red wine?” Fiona squinted at the glass. “Kate, if you spill the wine on yourself, they’ll bury you in this dress.”
“Maybe wine isn’t a good idea,” George said.
It was a great idea. I took the wine and drained the glass.
People giggled. Rowena slipped into the tent and smiled at me.
Julie dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “Now we have to re-lipstick.”
“Will all of you stop?” I growled.
“Shut up,” Andrea said. “We’re not done prettying you up.”
“I’m pretty enough as is.”
“Yes, yes, you are. You are the prettiest. Now hold still so I can fix your lipstick.”
“Try not to pass out,” Desandra said. “I almost passed out at my wedding. Of course, it was a really nasty wedding, but still.”
“What happens if he shows up?” Julie asked.
The tent went silent.
“He won’t,” I said. “But if he does, I’ll deal with it.”
“There.” Andrea stepped away. “Perfect.”
“Does she have all the things?” George asked. “Something old, something new . . .”
“The dress is new,” Fiona said.
“Something blue.” Sienna pointed to a single blue flower in my crown.
“Something old.” I touched the pendant around my neck. Martha smiled at me.
“Something borrowed?” Andrea looked around.
Rowena unclipped a small amber brooch from her dress and clipped it to me. “Here, you can borrow this.”
“Knock, knock,” Ascanio said outside the tent. “Is everybody clothed?”
“Yes,” Martina told him.
“That’s a shame.” He stuck his head in. “Oh, hi, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Everybody is ready. Also Curran says if you want to elope, there’s still time.”
“She doesn’t want to elope!” Fiona said. “She wants to showcase this dress.”
“Roman says for you to come out and take your seats.”
“Okay, okay, we’re coming.” Desandra got up. “Tell him to keep his black panties on.”
Ascanio squinted at me. “You are gorgeous, Alpha.”
“Go away,” Martina told him.
Everyone filed out of the tent one by one. Only the witches were left.
“The boy is right,” my aunt said next to me. “You make a passable bride. Miracle of miracles.”
“Thanks.”
The three witches stared at Erra by my side. I had taken her to them after the battle. We talked for a while. Plans were made. Curran wouldn’t like them, but sometimes the hardest choice was the right one.