The morning dawned soft and golden, as if the sky itself knew that this day was meant to be remembered. The town was alive with birdsong and the faint chiming of church bells in the distance. For Sabina, however, the day began with trembling hands and a racing heartbeat.
She sat before her bedroom mirror, the ivory gown draped over the chair beside her, waiting. Princess hovered at her side, brushing Sabina’s hair with exaggerated care, humming a tune she had made up herself. Ariane, efficient as ever, moved about the room, checking and rechecking details—the veil, the shoes, the jewelry.
“You’re so quiet,” Princess teased, catching Sabina’s nervous gaze in the mirror. “Don’t tell me my brave Ate is scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Sabina whispered, though her voice betrayed her nerves. “I’m
