Elowen's POV
"Family tradition demands we visit the boutique today. I won't hear arguments."
Iolanthe stands in the our foyer like she owns it, her silver hair swept back with the precision of a woman who has never been told no.
She arrived twenty minutes ago without warning, and my father greeted her with the deference of someone who recognizes a superior predator.
"I wasn't aware there was a tradition," I manage, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my ribs.
"Now you are."
Her thin smile holds no warmth.
"The Armitage brides have selected their gowns from Bellamy's for three generations. You'll continue that legacy, and Vesper will accompany us to offer sisterly support."
The word sister-in-law hangs unspoken in the air like a blade waiting to fall.
I turn toward the staircase, and my breath catches in my throat. Vesper descends the steps in a charcoal blazer that frames her shoulders like armor, dark circles beneath her eyes betraying a sleepless night.
She flew in on a red-eye, according to the housekeeper—claimed family obligations to the board and drove straight here from the airport.
Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. The memory of the garden burns between us, vivid and devastating.
"Grandmother."
Vesper inclines her head with practiced courtesy.
"I didn't realize we were making this trip today."
"Spontaneity keeps everyone sharp."
Iolanthe gestures toward the door.
"The car is waiting, and Bellamy's has cleared their afternoon for us. Shall we?"
The drive to Burlington takes forty minutes of suffocating silence.
Iolanthe occupies the front seat, issuing instructions to the driver while I sit beside Vesper in the back, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her body.
Neither of us speaks. Neither of us dares.
Bellamy's Bridal occupies a converted Victorian near the waterfront, all exposed brick and crystal chandeliers and the kind of hushed elegance that makes every whisper feel like a confession.
Staff flutter around me the moment we enter, treating me like royalty I have never wanted to become.
"Miss Kincaid, we've prepared a selection based on Mrs. Armitage's specifications."
The boutique owner says, guiding me toward a private fitting room lined with mirrors.
"Classic silhouettes, cathedral trains, nothing too modern. Traditional Armitage taste."
"Thank you. I'm sure they're lovely."
The words taste like ash on my tongue.
Vesper settles onto a velvet settee in the viewing area, accepting a champagne flute from a hovering attendant.
Her jaw is tight with something that looks like pain, and I have to force myself not to stare at the tension in her shoulders.
I disappear behind the curtain and let the attendants dress me like a doll.
The first gown is too stiff, too structured, a cage of beading and boning that makes breathing feel like a privilege I haven't earned.
I show it to Iolanthe and receive a curt nod of approval.
"Elegant," she pronounces. "Though perhaps too severe for the ceremony. Try the next one."
The second gown drowns me in tulle, layers upon layers of fabric that swallow my frame until I feel like a ghost of myself. Iolanthe tilts her head, considering.
"Better proportions, but the neckline is unflattering. Continue."
I retreat behind the curtain again, and the attendants help me into the third selection.
Off-shoulder. Fitted bodice that follows the curves of my body like water.
A subtle shimmer at the waist catches the light when I move, casting tiny prisms across the fitting room walls.
I step onto the small stage, and my eyes find Vesper's reflection in the mirror before I can stop myself.
She goes completely still.
The champagne flute freezes halfway to her lips.
Her chest stops moving, stops breathing, and I watch the color drain from her face like someone has pulled a plug.
Every muscle in her body has locked into place, and the raw devastation in her expression makes my heart crack down the center.
"What do you think?" I ask, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel.
"Beautiful." The word cracks on Vesper's tongue, jagged and broken. "You look beautiful."
Iolanthe makes a sound of satisfaction.
"This is the one. The photographs will be exquisite. We'll take it."
"I'd like a moment alone with the dress," I say quickly. "To see how it moves without an audience. If you don't mind, Mrs. Armitage."
"Of course."
Iolanthe rises with practiced grace, gesturing for the attendants to follow.
"We'll review veil options in the main showroom. Vesper, join us when you're ready."
The door clicks shut behind them.
Suddenly we are alone.
I watch Vesper's reflection in the mirror, watch her hands grip the velvet armrest until her knuckles go white.
"This dress is for the wrong Armitage," I whisper.
Vesper crosses the room before either of us can stop it.
Her hands find my waist, fingers pressing against the fabric with desperate urgency.
Her palms burn through the silk like fire, searing heat that brands itself into my skin.
She kisses me like the world is ending.
I grip her shoulders and pull her closer, closer, until there is no space left between us.
Her mouth moves against mine with raw hunger, and I taste champagne and desperation and four years of silence finally breaking apart.
My spine arches against the fitting room mirror, and the cold glass sends a shock through my system that only makes me want her more.
"Vesper," I breathe against her lips, and she swallows my name like a prayer.
"I can't watch you marry him."
Her voice breaks on the words, shattered and jagged.
"I can't stand beside my brother while you walk down an aisle toward the wrong life, wearing white for a marriage that should never happen."
"You said thirty days." I cup her face between my trembling hands. "We still have time, and I don't care what it costs us, Vesper. I don't care what we have to sacrifice."
"Everything."
She presses her forehead against mine, and I feel the tremor running through her entire body.
"It will cost us everything, Elowen. Our families, our positions, every relationship we've spent our lives building."
The confession lands in my chest like a physical blow.
I pull her into another kiss, softer this time but no less desperate, and for one perfect moment the rest of the world disappears.
Footsteps echo in the hallway.
We separate instantly, masks sliding into place with the practiced efficiency of women who have spent lifetimes hiding.
Vesper retreats to the settee. I smooth the fabric of my gown.
By the time the door opens, three feet of distance stretches between us like nothing happened.
Iolanthe enters with a selection of veils draped over her arm.
"The cathedral length will complement the train beautifully," she announces, completely oblivious to the earthquake that just shattered everything in this room. "We'll schedule the final fitting for next week, and alterations can begin immediately."
"Of course, Mrs. Armitage." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. "Whatever you think is best."
I catch Vesper's reflection in the mirror one last time.
The devastation in her eyes tells me everything her words cannot: she would watch this dynasty crumble to dust before letting me belong to anyone else.
And I know I would let her.