Freya's pov

My hands won't stop shaking as Emma tries to pin my hair for the third time and the bobby pins keep slipping through her fingers because I can't hold still.

"You need to breathe," Emma tells me. "Actually breathe not just pretend to breathe."

"I am breathing," I argue but my voice sounds thin and reedy.

"You're hyperventilating," my mother corrects from where she's sitting on the bed watching. "Slow down or you'll pass out before we get you to the ceremony site."

I force myself ...