Chapter 151 The weight of grace
IRIS
By the time we make it back to the Haven, the sun has already begun its slow slide toward the horizon. The sky looks soft and pastel, as if painted just for this occasion. Daisy drags me into my room immediately and announces that I am not allowed to sit, breathe, or exist improperly until she finishes transforming me into what she calls “a goddess with good taste.”
I laugh and let her push me into the chair in front of the vanity. The lights around the mirror glow warm and golden, making the room feel like its own little shelter from the world. Daisy ties her hair into a messy bun that somehow still looks elegant, then begins unpacking her makeup bag like she’s preparing for battle.
“You are very excited about this,” I say.
“Obviously,” she replies. “My best friend is getting mated tonight. If I’m not excited, I will combust.”
“You almost combusted earlier when I brought up Adrian.”
She points a makeup brush at me. “This is not about me. Today is about you and your fairy tale.”
I smile softly. “Fairy tale?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “Do you know how many people would sell their kidneys to have what you have? A man who loves you, protects you, worships the ground you step on, and looks at you like you invented sunlight.”
“Worships is a strong word.”
“He worships you,” she insists. “I have eyes. I see things.”
I laugh again, but a tiny ache presses behind my ribs. I try to ignore it.
Daisy steps behind me and gently begins parting my hair. Her fingers are warm as she sections and detangles the curls. She handles my hair like silk and not the wild storm it usually feels like. I watch her in the mirror, appreciating the care in every movement.
“I’m going to curl the front pieces,” she says. “Just lightly. Enough to frame your face. The rest will be braided back. Trust me. You will look ethereal.”
“I trust you.” And I do. Daisy has a way of transforming me that makes me want to stare at myself afterward to see who I’ve become.
She works, weaving, twisting, securing strands with delicate silver pins. The soft click of metal echoes in the room. I feel unusually calm.
“It’s almost strange,” Daisy says. “You’ve seen so many battles, dealt with so much chaos, but this is the one thing you seem nervous about.”
“I’m not nervous,” I say.
“You are,” she replies. “Just a little. In a cute way. Not a ‘run away from everything’ way, but a ‘this means something huge’ way.”
She’s not wrong. My stomach has been fluttering since we got back. I keep swallowing as if it could stop the feeling, but it won’t.
“Lift your chin,” she says. I obey, and she brushes something shimmery across my collarbones. It glows faintly. “Perfect.”
“What is that?”
“Magic makeup,” she says. “Or glitter. Same thing.”
I snort.
She moves to sit in front of me and holds my face between her hands. “Time for makeup. Don’t move.”
“You say that like I’m a child.”
“You are. A child in love.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I sigh and let her work. She applies foundation lightly, blending it into my skin as if she’s waited years for this. Then a rose-colored blush dusts my cheeks, and a soft nude lines my lips. When she finally steps back, she looks proud enough to cry.
“You look like a painting,” she whispers.
I look at myself in the mirror. For the first time, it almost feels like I’m seeing the version of myself Darian always claimed to see. Soft. Bright. Loved.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“Don’t thank me yet. I still need to fix your lashes. Blink incorrectly and I will fight you.”
I laugh. “Violence on my mating day?”
“Always.”
As she applies the lashes, our conversation drifts to lighter things. She talks about classes, I tease her about Adrian’s kissing, which makes her groan dramatically. She mentions her mother had cried earlier that morning when she found out Daisy was helping with my preparation. My heart warms, she has always treated me like her family.
By the time Daisy finishes, I feel like I am glowing from the inside out. She steps back again, staring at me like she’s just sculpted a masterpiece.
“Iris, you look… incredible.”
“You sound emotional,” I tease.
“I am not crying,” she insists, though her eyes glisten.
“You are definitely crying.”
“I’m not,” she says. “There’s dust in here.”
“There is no dust.”
“There could be dust.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Daisy. I love you.”
And that is when her smile falters. Only slightly. But it does.
She clears her throat. “You’re lucky, you know.”
“I know,” I say.
“No,” she replies softly. “I mean you’re lucky in a way most people dream about. Someone like Darian… loves you in a way that feels rare. It’s… beautiful to watch.”
Her words land gently, but they hit something deeper. Something raw.
Because reality rushes in like cold water.
Darian is going to die. Not later. Not someday. But soon. After the ceremony. After tonight. After today. There’s a timer over him that neither of us can escape, no matter how hard we try. No matter how deeply we love each other.
My smile fades. I don’t mean for it to. It just slips, like my body forgets to pretend. My chest tightens, and my hands go cold. I look at my reflection, but all I see is the end. The finality. The inevitable loss.
I feel Daisy’s eyes on me.
Her voice softens. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Iris.”
“I’m fine.”
She crouches so her face is level with mine. “Your smile disappeared.”
“I just…” I force a small laugh. “I think the nerves finally hit.”
Her expression eases. “That makes sense. Tonight is huge.”
I nod. “Exactly. That’s all.”
She doesn’t look fully convinced, but she doesn’t push. Daisy never pushes unless she thinks I’m lying to myself. And maybe I am, but I can’t spill this. I can’t drag her into the gravity of something she cannot fix.
Instead, I pull the corners of my lips upward and say, “See? Perfectly fine.”
She lets it go reluctantly. “Okay. If you say so.”
I stand up, smoothing the front of my robe. She reaches for the garment bag hanging in the corner.
“Are you ready for the dress?” she asks.
I swallow. “Yes. I think so.”
She unzips the bag just enough for a sliver of fabric to slip out. It shimmers in the soft light like it holds stars within it. I feel my breath catch. The dress looks magical even from that tiny glimpse. Elegant, soft, powerful. Like it was made to be worn on a night the world would remember.
Daisy’s voice warms. “It’s perfect for you.”
I touch the fabric lightly. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re going to make people gasp,” she says. “Especially Darian.”
A true smile forms on my lips, small but real. “I hope so.”
“You will,” she promises.
Once I step out of the robe and into the dress, Daisy moves around me with quick, practiced hands. She zips it up, adjusts the straps, smooths the fabric, fixes the bodice, and steps back again.
Silence. Complete silence.
Then she whispers, “Oh my goddess.”
I turn toward the mirror and feel something inside shift. The girl in front of me doesn’t look scared, fragile, or overshadowed by fate. She looks strong. Graceful. Ready. Like someone who belongs next to Darian.
I touch my waist softly. “Daisy…”
“No,” she says, voice thick. “Don’t even speak. I am emotionally unprepared. I need a moment.”
I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You are breathtaking,” she insists. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
I cannot stop staring at myself once the curtain falls shut behind me. The dress feels unreal on my body, like something borrowed from another life entirely. The fabric is a deep maroon, the kind of shade that looks like warm wine held up to firelight, rich and dark and quietly dramatic. It isn’t flashy. It doesn’t sparkle or demand attention. It just… exists with effortless grace that makes my breath catch.
The bodice hugs my waist in a way that feels almost intimate, fitted and structured without suffocating me. The sleeves are slightly puffed at the shoulders, soft and romantic, like old storybooks Daisy and I used to read. When I move, the full skirt sweeps around my legs in slow, beautiful waves, brushing the floor as if made to follow me specifically.
The maroon makes my skin look warmer. It deepens the color of my hair. It makes my eyes a little brighter, a little softer. It isn’t too much. It’s exactly enough. Standing there, I feel like someone else—someone braver, someone worthy of being looked at and cherished. For a moment, I allow myself to believe I can be that woman tonight.
I take one final look in the mirror. Then another. And another. I need to commit this moment to memory—it feels important. A turning point. Even if everything after tonight falls apart, this moment is whole.
There’s a knock at the door.
Daisy wipes her eyes quickly. “That’s our cue.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Probably the attendant,” she says. “They’re here to escort us.”
She opens the door slightly and nods. Then she turns to me, hands on her hips, grinning like the world is perfect.
“Ready?” she asks.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She offers her hand. I take it.
She squeezes. “Let’s go get you mated.”
I inhale slowly. Exhale even slower.
Daisy leads me out of the room and down the hallway. The soft hum of conversation, the glow of lanterns, the scent of flowers drifting through the air grow stronger with every step. The venue isn’t far. I can almost see the light spilling in from the courtyard.
My heart beats hard against my ribs. Tonight is the night. The beginning of something beautiful. And the beginning of an ending I’m not ready to face.
But as Daisy guides me forward, her hand warm in mine, I lift my chin. Whatever waits beyond those doors, I will walk into it with grace.
For a moment, I allow myself to believe that we might pull through. That this isn’t temporary, and fate won’t be cruel enough to snatch him away. Goddess knows how that would go.
But now… now is the time to face the present, and possibly the future.