Verity's pov

I had never seen myself look so… nervous.

The mirror reflected someone who was trying too hard not to panic. My hair had already been brushed out and curled just the way I wanted, soft tendrils framing my face, but my dress—gods, my dress—was another story entirely.

It hung halfway off my shoulders, the back unzipped and loose, threatening to slip if I so much as breathed wrong. The blue silk shimmered faintly under the candlelight, hugging my hips but gaping open along my ...