Marcella woke to morning sun pressing against the curtains — warm, filtered, and far gentler than her thoughts.
Today, she would meet the Montclairs, her new family. If one could call them wolves in velvet.
Marcella stood in front of the long mirror, the silk of her crimson gown cascading down like melted wine around her. Lira tied the last ribbon at the back of her bodice.
"You look… radiant, milady," Lira murmured, eyes lingering on Marcella's shoulders. She draped a heavy traveling cloak across her arms. "The Duchess of Cardania."
Outside, the bridal carriage waited. It gleamed white as bone, lacquered ivory trimmed with gold. Its velvet-lined interior was so dark it swallowed the light entirely. Something about it made her pause.
Berith did not greet her at the door. Instead, he came from the stables, astride a black stallion. The wind caught the hem of his coat, giving him the look of a phantom torn from a forgotten war painting.
