The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 22

"Today is a big day!" Alana announced as she entered Will's room. Will groaned as he was drug unceremoniously from his sleep. The sun poured in like a flash flood and blinded Will before he had even been able to open his eyes. "It is time to get up! We have much to do to prepare for today!"

"Please." Will pulled his pillow over his head, but it was swiftly ripped from his grip by the woman. "Alana, just a few more minutes."

"It is your wedding day, and I will not have us waste it by sleeping away. It is time to get up."

Will hid his face in his sheets as he stretched. "When are the Verger's arriving?"

"They will be here around midmorning. We are to get you dressed to greet them and have breakfast and then we will handle final wedding arrangements while you are fitted in your suit."

"No!" Will had been partly sat up and let his arms collapse under him to fall back into the bed. "No fittings. I do not wish to be part of any more fittings for as long as I live."

"You will go to your fitting, or you will not be given the letter that arrived for you this morning." Will pushed himself up at the news, hope blossoming in his chest. He met Alana's smug gaze, and she folded her arms over her chest. "Well, that certainly got you to move, didn't it?"

"The letter?" Will held out his hand to her and she tutted her tongue and shook her head. "Alana."

"After you are dressed and agree to go to your fitting. Then you may have your letter."

Will rolled his eyes, letting a deep exhale escape him. He pushed himself to his feet and went through the motions of being a puppet on strings for his puppeteer. He was placed into a yellow color that he didn't much care for, and he hoped that his clothes for that evening were more in the shade of blue that Theophania had liked.

Had Elizabeth dressed him in blues as well? Had there been a moment when she had seen him in that color and decided that it was the perfect hue for him? Did she know the way it brought out his shine in eyes and hints of red in his curls?

Will's mouth had gone dry, and he looked over himself in the mirror, searching for Elizabeth there. His fingers ran over his cheek bones and his jaw that he would need to shave before that night, the stubble catching on his fingertips. He pushed his curls back from his forehead before letting them flop back in place. He even gave a smile and looked over the shape of his lips and then his teeth as he traced them with his tongue. How much of him belonged to her?

"Someone is feeling rather vain today," Alana jested from behind Will, but he didn't turn to face her. His smile dropped and he turned his face to the right in an attempt to see his profile. His silence must have brought a worry to the maid. "Are you alright?"

"Do you think my mother would be here if she could?" Will asked, the real answer he was longing for one he knew he could not receive. "Would she watch me get married?"

"Oh." There was a breath of understanding behind Will. "I'm sure the queen would have been helping you plan the entire time if she were still here, dear."

"Would she be proud of me?"

"What is there not to be proud of?"

Will straightened himself up, his eyes taking in the fullness of his person once more. A stranger stood before him, echoing back in glass. He didn't recognize himself anymore. He didn't know if he was even himself anymore. What was staring back at him was not the Will Graham of several months ago. This was a new Will Graham and he hated how much of his father he saw etched into his features as the days wore on.