A Dove's Tale

Chapter 162

Mother's impossible dream was finally coming true, and I felt like I would be sick.

There was a princess standing in the mirror before me. Her features looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't quite bring myself to believe she was me. The maids must have switched me with somebody else during all the hours of preparation. That sleek black hair piled atop her head in an elaborate updo was indeed similar to mine, as was that heart-shaped face, although a light dusting of blush made her cheekbones more prominent, and the eye makeup made her green eyes seem larger and brighter, too. Her full lips were ruby red, not the soft pink I knew, and her gown...her jewelry...

She could have stepped from the pages of a fairy tale.

White as the snow not long melted from the ground, lace rose vines climbed from the floor around the full skirt of the gown until they reached her waist, where a single stem emerged to bloom across her chest. A silver and pearl necklace came to rest just above her neckline, and a pair of silver and pearl pendant earrings framed her face. Above her hair rested a veil, the long gauzy material blending into the long flowing sleeves covering her arms. The train of the dress bunched on the floor behind her, long enough at full extension to reach from the altar to the church doors. It would need several maids to carry it.

She couldn't be me. She couldn't. Because if she was, I was getting married today, and I couldn't be getting married today.

I was getting married today.

"You're beautiful, Ivetta," Theresa said, somewhere in the distance. "But you'd look even better if you smiled."

Months of waiting, preparing, longing, and it was almost over. A few more minutes, and I would walk down the aisle. A few more hours, and I would be in a carriage with Chevalier, driving away to an unknown location for our week-long honeymoon. I wanted to be close to him. I loved his kisses, his touch, the feel of his arms around me when he held me close. But I always had an exit before. I could draw the line and stop him whenever it got to be too much. I could hide my scars and my inadequacies. Tonight, the line would disappear. There would be no more hiding, no more stopping, no more running away. He would see every single scar. He would match me up to whatever fantasies he'd built in his mind, and I already knew I couldn't possibly meet his expectations.

"Give us a minute," I heard Theresa say.

She took my arm and led me away from the mirror, still in a daze, legs moving mechanically, until we reached the sofa, where I froze. I couldn't sit wearing this dress. What if I wrinkled it, or damaged it, or—

"Ivetta, you need to sit down," she said, giving me a gentle push.

I perched gingerly on the edge of the sofa, and she sat beside me, reaching around my shoulders to give me a careful hug. The door closed with a click behind the last of the maids. My hands trembled in my lap, the diamonds in my engagement ring catching the light and taunting me with each flashing glare.

"Talk to me," she said. "What's going on?"

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my whirling thoughts into something sensible, but I couldn't quite grasp anything long enough to name it.

"Last night, you were too excited to sleep. What changed?"

I swallowed again and shook my head. "I-I—I don't—I—c-can't—"

She snapped her fingers in front of my face, startling me into looking at her.

"Stop," she ordered. "Breathe. Now, start over."

I followed her instructions and took a deep, shaky breath, and then another. "I don't think...I'm ready for this," I finally managed to say.

She sighed heavily. "You're worried about tonight."