Page 80 of Sophie's Ruin
“If that interaction was sweet by vampire standards, I don’t want to know what you do when you’re mad at each other,” the girl said, and Isabelle and I both chuckled at the comment.
“Let’s hope you never have to find out,” Isabelle remarked, taking the dress off the hanger. “Let’s get you into this gown so my brother can marry you. He’s practically bursting with anticipation.”
“Actually, I’ll get myself dressed,” I told her. “I’d like a few minutes alone.”
Isabelle’s sharp gaze flicked over me, and she looked like she wanted to argue.
She must have decided against it because she said, “Of course. We’ll be in the ballroom along with everyone else.” She draped the dress over the chair by the vanity and headed for the door. “Sophie,” she said, stopping on her way out. “Henry is waiting for you. Don’t make him wait too long.”
“I won’t,” I promised, with a small smile that I hoped would put her at ease.
It did, and with a nod, she swept from the room.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Amelie asked, halting by the door after Isabelle had left.
“I’m sure,” I assured her.
“What you said about Waylon…thank you for that,” the witch said, her cheeks pink again as she turned to leave.
“You’re welcome.”
After she’d ducked her chin and slipped out of the door, I quickly changed into my wedding gown. My hands trembled slightly as I ran them down the lacy silk skirt. It wasn’t nervousness that had invaded my senses—it was excitement and anticipation. I’d asked for a few minutes alone, but not because I needed to steel myself. I’d wanted this time to let what was happening truly sink in, so I could soak in this moment and revel in it.
I knew what Henry and I were about to do wouldn’t change anything between us. I was already his, and he was mine, but this moment still felt special, and I wanted to lock it away in myheart as a happy memory, which I knew would be one of many to come.
I stepped into my low-heeled shoes and clasped the locket holding the portrait of my mother behind my neck. I decided to forgo wearing the Tear tonight, leaving it where it was stowed away in the vanity drawer. My gaze settled on the locket on my chest in the mirror’s reflection. My mother couldn’t be here with me on my special day, but she was here with me in spirit. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt a hand land on my shoulder, making me suck in a sharp breath. No one else was in the room, but I felt my mother with me. Standing behind me, she was clasping my shoulder just like she’d done on the night I’d defeated the Dark Witches.
Peace and serenity washed over me…and love. My mother’s love felt different from Henry’s. His was powerful and smoky—a worship with a hint of spice. Hers was no less powerful but also radiant—the love of a mother for her child. I breathed in deeply, inhaling that love, filling my lungs and my heart with it. My mother was here with me, and she approved of my union with Henry, just like I knew she would.
A smile tugged at my lips and my eyes were bright when I cast one last look at myself in the mirror before walking out of my bedroom. My smile grew the closer I got to the ballroom. I couldn’t wait to see Henry. I couldn’t wait to make him mine in every definition of the word and declare in front of everyone that I was his forever. Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me with supernatural speed, and a few seconds later, I skidded to a stop in front of the closed ballroom door. I halted right by my father, who jumped when I appeared before him as if out of thin air.
“Sorry.” I gave a small, apologetic smile.
“It’s okay.” He squared his shoulders. It was strange seeing him in the finely cut clothes Isabelle had picked for him, but he wore it well, looking like he could be a nobleman in another life.“Sophie,” he said, his voice catching as he took me in. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I told him, smoothing out my hair that had gotten tousled from my sprint through the halls.
“Are you ready?” Ezra asked from where he stood by the door.
I nodded, curling my arm around my father’s, and he straightened and lifted his chin as Ezra opened the double doors. Brightly lit ballroom greeted me, tastefully decorated for the occasion. Isabelle and Amelie must have worked on it together, because red roses and bold, gilded elements were carefully woven in with more subtle, delicate flowers and accents. I waited for my father to start walking, but he hesitated. When I glanced at him, I found him watching me with a mix of pride and awe on his aged face.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Of whom you’ve become and what you’ve accomplished.”
My heart squeezed in my chest as I stared at him, at a loss for words.
“Your mother would be proud, too,” he continued. “If only she could see you now…” he trailed off as tears filled his eyes.
“I think she can,” I told him past the lump in my throat. “I feel like she’s here with us.”
My father glanced behind me as if he thought he’d see her standing there.
“I think you’re right,” he said a moment later, his gaze refocusing on me. “I love you, Sophie.”
“I love you, Father.”
He cleared his throat and smiled at me, patting my hand on his forearm.
“Let me take you to the one whose love will carry you through eternity, even after I’m gone.”
