Anwen

I pluck at the neck of my wedding clothes and look at myself in the mirror.

“You look like shit,” Baz says from the bed behind me. Despite Estrella’s efforts, he’s still healing.

“Thanks.” He’s right, though. Sundrop’s bright colors just kind of make me look sick. And the damned thing is so starched, it crunches every time I try to move my arms. I don’t know what I pictured wearing to my wedding, but—

“Fuck!” Heartrending pain rips ...