Chapter 149 One Moon
Bella
The knock comes again, softer this time, like whoever is outside is second-guessing themselves.
Red doesn’t move. She just calls, “Come in.”
The door opens, and the woman steps inside, carrying a folded bundle of fabric. Snow clings to her cloak. Her cheeks are red from the cold, her lashes damp. She pauses the second she sees us, eyes flicking to my hand, then to my face.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I was told to bring these.”
She sets the bundle down on the table like it might be heavy in ways that aren’t weight. Then she unwraps it carefully, layer by layer, until the table is covered in cloth. There are deep colours, rich textures, a dark charcoal, a soft cream, a strip of something shimmering faintly, like frost on stone. Ashlyn makes a sound like she’s going to faint into her own hands.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, my gods.”
I reach out and brush my fingertips over the cloth. It’s softer than I expected. It slides under my touch like water, cold at first, then warming under my skin.
“This is…” My voice trails off because the word I want is too big for my mouth.
The woman watches me, cautiously, then says, “We can make it to move with you. It should be sturdy but soft enough that you’ll be able to breathe.”
I nod slowly, still touching the fabric.
“I don’t want to feel like I’m wearing someone else’s life,” I say, and the honesty comes out before I can filter it.
Understanding crosses softly in her eyes like she’s heard that sentence before from someone else, or maybe she’s just smart enough to know what it means.
“Then we won’t make that,” she says simply.
Red writes something down without looking up. Ashlyn reaches for the shimmering strip and holds it up to the lantern light. It catches, glows faintly, then settles back to dull like it’s shy about being pretty.
“This,” Ashlyn says, reverent, “is going to be lethal.”
“It’s a dress,” I mutter, but my voice keeps smiling anyway.
“Exactly,” she says, as if that proves her point.
The dressmaker clears her throat. “If you want, I can take measurements today. Or tomorrow. Or whenever you choose.”
My stomach flips. I glance at Red like she’s going to save me. Red is busy writing “MEASUREMENTS” on her list like it’s another weapon to secure.
“I don’t want a lot of people,” I say, because the thought of strangers touching me for hours makes my skin crawl.
The dressmaker nods immediately. “Just me and whoever you trust.”
Ashlyn points at herself. “Me.”
Red adds, “Me,” like it’s a statement, not a question.
I exhale through my nose. “Fine. You two can stand there and glare at anyone who looks at me wrong.”
Ashlyn grins. “Gladly.”
The door creaks again, and Gilfred hops in like he owns the place with his eyes bright. He spots the honey cakes and makes a beeline for them, claws clicking on timber.
“Gilfred,” I warn.
He chirps loudly and defiantly. Ashlyn reaches out to block him with her forearm. Gilfred sidesteps like a thief and snatches a chunk of honey cake anyway, darting toward the far bench with his prize clamped in his mouth.
Ashlyn points at him. “See. Even he’s celebrating.”
Red doesn’t look up. “ I'll put ‘gecko supervision’ on the list.”
I laugh, and it feels easy. Like something I’ve been missing without noticing. Then I catch movement in the doorway again, a shadow filling the frame. Damien stands there with his arms full. Blankets. A bottle. A ribboned box. Something wrapped in cloth. He looks mildly resigned and extremely patient, as if he’s accepted that he’s now the official carrier of my future. Behind him, Drayke and Paul are stacked with more gifts like a walking storage unit. Damien’s eyes find mine immediately. He looks at me like he’s checking I’m still breathing, still okay in the middle of all this attention. I lift my hand slightly, ring flashing once, and his mouth softens. Ashlyn makes a pleased little hum under her breath, like she’s watching a romance play out on stage and she’s proud of the casting. Damien steps in just far enough to set one bundle down by the door. He doesn’t come to the table or interrupt. He simply watches me for a moment longer, then nods once, small and private. Drayke and Paul start unloading gifts near the wall with quiet efficiency, stacking boxes and bottles and folded cloth like this is normal, and they aren’t carrying half the village’s heart offerings. Red taps her charcoal again.
“Alright,” she says. “We have venues. Guest tiers. Vows and fire. Dress direction.”
Ashlyn leans in. “Timeline.”
Red’s gaze lifts to mine. “How soon do you want it?”
My throat tightens. I glance at the fabric on the table, the notepad, at Ashlyn’s eager grin and at Damien, steady as the mountain, arms finally empty.
“Soon,” I say.
Damien nods with a smile, his dragon flashing through his eyes at me. Red nods like she expected that. She looks down and writes a single line in firm, dark charcoal.
WITHIN ONE MOON.
Then she underlines it so hard the charcoal nearly breaks.
“There,” she says, and finally it feels like the wedding becomes real in ink, not just in laughter and lantern light. Ashlyn squeals. Gilfred chirps around his stolen honey cake like he’s cheering too. Damien’s gaze stays on me, and I feel the warmth of his quiet acceptance and love. Red flips the page.
“Next,” she says, and she looks up with the kind of calm that only exists when someone is about to become terrifyingly organised. “We pick the venue order, we set the day, and then we start delegating.”
Ashlyn rubs her hands together like a villain. I stare at the bold line of charcoal on the page, at the word moon, at the way my ring keeps catching the light every time I move my hand. One month.
One month until I’m Damien's wife. I swallow, then reach for another honey cake, because if I’m going to survive this, I’m doing it with sugar and witnesses.
“Okay,” I say, and my voice comes out steadier than I expect. “Let’s do it.”
Red’s smile is small and sharp.
“That,” she says, “is what I’ve been waiting to hear.”