Poppy’s POV

“You look like a vision, my little poppy flower,” my father said as my handmaidens let him into the bridal suite. My handmaidens were hard at work placing all the various pieces of my ceremonial dress. White silk layered with layers and layers of golden tuille.

Gray and midnight blue accents were woven and embroidered through the bodice that fitted perfectly around my waist—a marriage of Aldermor colors with Myrkr accents. I imagined Erik’s ...