Book Nineteen: Coven Leader
So weird, this image of me reflected back from the mirror. I'd wanted cream or even a color, but Mom and Shenka-and all the other women in my life who thought they had a say-insisted on white.
I wasn't an angel. But as I stood there, looking at myself in my wedding dress, I smiled.
And felt like one.
Slow breathing did wonders for the wild pounding of my heart as Mom lifted the lace veil and pinned it to the back of my piled curls. Tears glistened in her eyes as, with trembling hands, she released the fall of soft fabric , the sigh of it behind me like the exhale of all the sadness I'd ever felt. Gone with the excitement of what I was about to do.
I fidgeted a little with the skirt of my gown, loving the halter style, the way the dress clung to me in shining folds of satin. While I knew Mom would have preferred to dress me in a princess concoction of froth and poof, I'd won this argument.