New Rome

18. Corpse Groom

Wylo stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Your beauty shines brighter than the sun," her attendant complimented smoothly. It did not. The dress was lovely, in the traditional purple shades, with her hair pulled tightly back in the current style. It was pretty, but it made Wylo look like a stranger to herself. The girl reflected back at her looked miserable, not radiant.

The weeks had passed in a rush and suddenly, the dreaded day was here – her wedding day. Wylo was adorned with so many heavy baubles that her shoulders and neck were already aching and she couldn't bring herself to smile. Fortunately, she'd be wearing a veil for most of the ceremony so she didn't need to worry about that.

"Truly, you are a vision of loveliness as a bride."

"Must be why I'm playing the part again. I do it too well." Wylo muttered in reply. A second arranged marriage. Had there really been a time she'd fancied herself free? Naïve simpleton, she was a puppet on everybody else's strings. From now on, Wylo was determined to be as hard-hearted and cynical as the best of them.

                    Wylo held her breath. Through a crack in the door she could see the congregation – formally decked out to watch her wedding. Beads of sweat formed on her back. Could she really do this again? When would she start living for herself? But without her grandmother, she couldn't live at all. She'd never work again... Wylo's shoulders tensed. For freedom tomorrow, she needed to cage herself in today – would she ever unpick the lock?

"Wylo?" Elligah whispered her name softly. He was standing at her side, ready to walk up the aisle with her. He couldn't see her face due to her veil but she nodded, to show that she was ready. Elligah stared at her for a minute, his eyes large and earnest. "I will be here by your side. Always." He promised. Wylo started in surprise when Elligah took her hand in his and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

The doors opened and the music started up. They walked out, hand in hand. Wylo's heart fluttered in her chest. It was strange, she felt disconnected from what was happening – as if she were merely watching herself as a spectator. Hundreds of eyes stared probingly at her as they made the long journey to the alter – their stares assaulting her from both sides. She felt vulnerable, as if she were being paraded about in front of them – as an obedient mare.

Elligah helped her to ascend the steps up to the raised platform and Wylo was sharply reminded of Guy. He'd done the same thing. Thinking of Guy made her tremble. If ghosts were real, could he be with them now? Wylo blinked back tears that threatened and tried to focus on what was happening. Stiffly, she bowed to the priest – rising in unison with Elligah. His arm brushed against hers and Wylo felt the warmth of his body heat kindle the coldness of hers. 

She faced Elligah and watched him as he said his vows. Her brow furrowed as he repeated the solemn words, his voice remarkably steady. He didn't have to do this, Wylo reminded herself. Elligah was making this sacrifice for her sake and she was selfish enough not to stop him. Guilt weighed down her insides. 

The priest cleared his throat pointedly – it was her time to speak. Wylo repeated the words but as she did so, her mind questioned – should she be doing this? It wasn't fair on her or her cousin. Her voice faltered. It wasn't too late. She could stop this... Elligah's eyes widened, sensing the change. The priest nodded at her, urging her on and still Wylo hesitated. She'd never been brave, but she could be brave today – for Ellie's sake.