ANASTASIA’S POVClara, my head maid, tugged gently at my hair, weaving strand after strand into a neat braid, while the other maids fussed over my face and dress. Blush dusted my cheeks, lipstick applied on my lips, flower clips nestled into my strands, gold placed around my neck and wrists. Everything about me was being polished, perfected, packaged into a bride ready to be handed over like a gift.Except I felt like a total wreck.My whole body was humming with nerves, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your chest feel too tight. Earlier, at the fated box ceremony, I’d been fire and defiance, daring Amelia to hate me openly, standing my ground against my family in a way I've never done.But now, sitting here in front of my vanity, that spunk had withered into something smaller. Anxiety clawed at my insides.This was happening.I was really going through with it. Leaving home. Marrying Nicholas Bloodhound. Going head to head with Amelia.My throat tightened. My hands tremble
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