That’s putting it mildly.
“I’m just…I never thought my wedding day would be like this,” I admit, toying with how much I should say. “Honestly, I never gave a lot of thought to it. The only thing I did know was that if it ever did happen for me, my father would be there to walk me down the aisle…” I trail off, trying to hold back the tears that are abruptly rushing to my eyes, making my nose burn.
Fuck, I am so over crying.
“Oh,” Lovia says softly, her face falling in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
Honestly, neither did I. Not until now. Because none of this has felt real. Maybe that’s why I’ve just bounced along with everything that’s been happening to me, going with the tide, no matter where it takes me. Ever since I stepped foot in this crazy world, I feel like everything has been happening to some other version of me. Like there’s a chance that Hanna Heikkinen is still back in Los Angeles, taking pictures for her social media account, completely oblivious to what this version of myself is going through.
But this is real. Isn’t it? That reflection in the mirror really is mine. This isn’t some bizarre extended gothic sex dream, this is my life now and it’s changing by the second.
And it hurts, it hurts so much to know that my father isn’t here for these changes, as strange as they are. Hell, I even wish my mother was here. I would love to hear her commentary on what’s happening, hear her criticisms over what royal death gown I’m wearing for the day, or whether I’m polite enough to the Deadmaidens.
I just feel so alone and powerless and even though the wedding isn’t what I really want, it doesn’t feel right to have to go into it like this. I should have a partner in all of this, but that’s not what this marriage is all about anyway.
This marriage isn’t about me. It’s not even about us. It’s all about Death. It’s all about politics and tactics and appearances, everything to make him seem more formidable and in-charge, as if there’s anything else more formidable than the God of Death.
To make things worse, I actually haven’t really seen Death since he “proposed.” After our little session in the garden, he’s been elusive and he hasn’t been showing up in my bedroom at night either. The one time I did run into him in the halls when I was taking my morning stroll, and asked him where he’s been, he said he’s been busy and basically brushed me off. When I brought it up to Raila, she said that he was adhering to tradition, which is to not be with the future bride before the wedding. Like okay, but does he have to be a dick about it?
I have a hard time believing that, regardless. I know that Death sticks to traditions, but really, no sex before marriage? Is that a thing among the Gods? The God of Death?
Then again, Death is rather superstitious. I’ve noticed that he prefers things in certain numbers (in threes), that he never has his back to a door, and that he does certain things on certain days. Guess I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out since I’ll be fucking marrying him tomorrow.
“There’s that face again,” Lovia says. “Is it still your father? Or is it the hair? We can try a different look.”
I don’t give a shit about what my hair looks like for the damn wedding, but Lovia is so invested in it that I don’t want to break her heart. She’s probably the only person in this whole castle who is actually looking forward to this thing. I guess weddings aren’t very common in Tuonela.
“The hair is wonderful,” I tell her adamantly. “Really. But please, let’s not fuss over me. Your father said he wants it to be as quick and painless as possible.”
She rolls her eyes. “Such a romantic, right?”
“He is the king and he knows what he wants,” I tell her firmly. “Besides, this is all for political gain. You know that, don’t you? He doesn’t love me.”
I don’t mean for it to come all out like that, but it does.
Lovia doesn’t seem bothered, though.
“Do you love him?” she asks, and I swear she looks hopeful.
I try not to wince. “Does it matter?”
She sighs, pouting slightly with her pink lips. “I guess not. I’m just happy that he has someone.”
I snort.
“Even if that someone is literally forced into the marriage?”
Her eyes soften sympathetically. “I know how this all seems to you. I don’t pretend to have the answers. I just want you to know that even though he’s Death, my father isn’t as bad as he seems.”
The jury is still out on that. The only time Death seems to redeem himself is in the bedroom, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to go on that alone. I mean, it’s been days since I’ve seen him at all. There’s a chance I’ll never get to sleep with him and then what do I get? Whole bunch of being the Queen of Death for eons to come with no dick.