Dauphine looked horrified. “Why wouldn’t they attend?”
“Just…with it coming up so soon, I’m sure people have already committed to other—”
Marguerite’s hand fell upon the tabletop, jostling the cups and saucers with a clatter. “What on earth could be more important than a wedding? The joining of two souls. If you don’t comprehend the magnitude of what you’re getting yourself into, girl, then you ought to give my grandson back his ring and be gone from us.” She held out her hand, as if expecting me to acquiesce then and there.
“Mother!” a new voice rang out. Our heads snapped toward the house where Gerard stood, paused on the terrace threshold, listening to every hateful word Marguerite uttered. “I’m sorry to interrupt your tea, ladies, but Mother and I need to speak. Now.”
“But—”
“Now,” he repeated firmly, and came forward to pull her chair out from the table. It almost seemed like a gesture of polite deference, but I saw the tips of his fingers curved around the chair’s back, white-hot in his anger.
I wanted to speak up, wanted to say something to assure everyone that Alex had made the right choice, that I would be the right match for him—for the family—but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the words, wasn’t sure of the proper way to approach it.
With a brisk nod to Dauphine, then me, Gerard left, escorting Marguerite from the table with a firm grip around her elbow. We listened to their retreating footsteps in silence.
“So…，” Dauphine began after a long moment. Her smile looked too forced. “The eighteenth. We’ll need dresses for the engagement party, the blessing ceremony…” Dauphine ran a finger over the weeks, reading her notes. “There’s the Peaseblossoms’ anniversary celebration. And the opening of the new botanical gardens—you’re going to love the lily pond, it’s magnificent…”
“And the wedding, of course,” I joked, trying to lighten the air between us. She didn’t laugh. “I’ll have to return to Salann, at least twice, I suppose.” I already dreaded the thought.
“For what?”
“For the wedding gown. There’s a designer on Astrea who has been making all of the Thaumas women’s dresses for decades. Mrs. Drexel. She made both my sisters’ wedding gowns—and my mother’s.”
Dauphine shook her head. “As you say, there’s no time for all of that. Besides, a Salann designer wouldn’t know all of the proper stitches that go into a wedding gown.”
I smiled, certain she was teasing me. “Mrs. Drexel’s gowns are legendary on the islands. Even Arina is said to shop there… I’m confident her design will be spectacular.”
“I’m sure they’re very lovely, but there are specific knots and stitching that make up a Bloem wedding gown. Little slips of paper, with prayers and petals, are sewn into the boning. Roots in the hem to anchor the new couple. Every knot, every gather, is a symbol of two souls joining together. They may seem like silly customs to an outsider, but they mean a great deal to us. To him,” she added with emphasis.
“I…” I bit my lip hard, summoning the courage to continue. “I don’t want to be seen as an outsider and I don’t want to let Alex down.”
Dauphine softened. “I know this must be a lot to take in right now. But look over these designs,” she said, and removed a pile of renderings from underneath a ledger. “Aren’t they magnificent?”
In each sketch, the bride looked exactly like me.
A strange laugh tickled its way free from my throat. “Alex only proposed yesterday…where did all these come from?”
Now Dauphine smiled. “Oh, Verity, it’s amazing the things you can accomplish if you don’t spend the whole morning lazing about in bed.” She took a sip of her tea, her lips leaving a perfect coral crescent on the rim of her cup, and started another list.
Dear Mercy, I’m sorry it?’s been an age since I’ve written. Things here have been happening so quickly I scarcely know where to begin. I wish I was sitting in front of you, telling you this in person but…I am engaged! To Alexander Laurent! Because of all the traditions the People of the Petals have for weddings, we’ll be marrying in less than a month, on their next sacred date. I’m sending this missive by the Laurents’ fastest messenger to personally ask you to be one of my bridal attendants. I promise you can have your pick of gowns and the prettiest bouquet. Write soon!
All my love, Verity
Dear Annaleigh, Alexander’s courtship was swift—we are engaged to be married, and I want you to be one of my attendants, if you’re willing. The wedding is set for next month—the Laurents have so many wildly different traditions than we do—but I hope you and Cassius and little Cecelia will be able to make it out. I know things are…strained with Camille, but it is my most sincere wish that she’s able to set aside her grievances with me and come here, ready to celebrate. I want things to return to how they were before. I want all my sisters back. Do you think you might try to reach out to her again? She’s answered none of my letters but surely she will now—with such happy news? Also…would you mind bringing another crate or two of the salted sage candles with you? They’ve been most helpful in keeping the…homesickness at bay.
All my love, Verity
Camille— I’m not even sure why I’m writing this to you. I know you won’t read it, but…you’re my sister and I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here to tell this to in person…Alexander Laurent has proposed and I’ve accepted. We will be married next month—formal invitations will be sent out quite soon, I’m sure—but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I know you didn’t approve of me coming here and I can’t begin to guess at how you’ll respond to this news…but I hope you’re happy.
I am.
I hate this rift between us. I hate that I’ve been here so long and haven’t heard one word from you. I know you’re angry but please, please put those feelings aside. For the wedding day. Just one day. For me. Your littlest sister. Who loves you.
All my heart, Verity
“You seem quiet today,” Alex observed, keeping his frame so still that even his lips barely moved. “Is everything all right?”
I flicked my paintbrush through a dab of gray paint on the palette. “Just tired, I suppose.”
“You sound it,” he said. “Another bad night?”
“I don’t understand how you sleep through those peacocks,” I admitted, running the brush over the canvas with a careful hand. They were trembling a little today. Weeks of sleepless nights were taking a toll on me. I’d indulged in an extra cup of coffee at breakfast and now felt like a coil wound too tight, about to snap. “You really don’t hear them?”
The peacocks’ cries lingered in my ears, even long after the screaming stopped. I’d be up for hours after waking, too rattled and unable to drift off until I stole down to the kitchen to make myself a pot of Gerard’s blooming tea. It was the only thing that could soothe me enough to slip back to sleep.