The sun poured into the bridal suite in liquid gold, its warm, forgiving light bathed all it touched. Dust motes floated serenely in the beams of light that poured in through the high French windows. Below the chandelier, Lily stood on a minute circular dais, her breath suspended, her gaze locked on the mirror opposite her.The dress glowed as moonlight did—silk and lace embroidered into poetry. It clung to her contours with grace, flowing down her legs like a liquid and lighting up with fire in every move."Stand still, darling," panted the seamstress, bent over Lily's feet. Her fingers flew rapidly, tugging on the hem, pinching intermittently."I am trying," Lily panted, eyes fuzzy, voice quivering. "It just does not seem true."Brenna swept in without knocking, her entrance as gentle as a lullaby. She stood in the doorway, her breath caught."Oh, Lily," she said, placing a hand on her chest. "You look like. you emerged from a dream."Lily moved her head, eyes shining with unshed te
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