Book 11: Pink Wedding

Cole

Snowy sunlight dusts through ceiling height windows in one of the guest rooms in King Isaac’s castle. I stare at the snowflakes sticking to the frosted window as a woman with mousy brown hair and bright gray eyes adjusts my tuxedo for the eighth time, her small fingers deftly plucking invisible thread from my suit jacket. 

“Mom,” I say, then clear my throat. “I’m sure I look fine.”

She glances up at me with glassy eyes before turning from me, walking toward the vanity. She’s wearing a shimmering gray gown and a cape trimmed with white fur, possibly mink. Her braided hair is wrapped in an updo at the base of her neck, and she looks… stunning but lost in her thoughts. 

She and Dad never married. Not officially. She never took vows before the Goddess, but I know they were deeply, utterly completely in love. 

She lost her mate. I killed her mate, and now she’s preparing me to marry my own mate. 

I visited her