Only it wasn't.

Margherita was livid next morning.

"How could you agree to marry our enemy?" She flailed her arms, pacing back and forth in my tent.

"He's not our enemy." I worked faster on my crochette, mumbling a frantic count of the loops.

I had only today to finish this before the wedding in the evening.

"Do you even hear yourself?"

"No."

"Esma!"

"Quiet," I hissed, pausing to ponder whether I'm on thirty seventh loop or thirty-eight.

Damn, now I'd have to count them manually from the last chain. And so I began, all thanks to my cousin.

"Thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Right."

"You must think this through."

And I blocked her out.

"You met him last night, right? What did he say?"

My fingers worked as diligently as ever. And then my crochette was snatched away from my hands.

"Margi! Careful! They're still loose." My hands flailed upward as I scowled.

"No, tell me what he bribed you with first." She balled up the whole thing in a fist and my scowl deepened.

"You think I'm someone they can bribe? Well, you're sorely mistaken then."

"Why the heck would you want to marry him then? Don't tell me you've fallen for his royal pale ass!"

"I didn't fall for his royal pale ass," I stood up and snatched back my hardwork before sitting down on my cushion again. "If you really wanna know go pester Baba. He's the one who set up this marriage."

"Esma..."

I sighed and looked up at the frowning Margherita. "Margi, darling, I have to finish this by tonight. Can I have some privacy till then? Please?"

Margherita only fisted her hands in response.

"Why are you even bothering with that anyway? You're already leaving us alone to go live royal. Doria and I can survive our poor ass without your scarves."

"Margi-"

She flipped her knee-length black hair and stomped away, leaving me with my unfinished crochette and heavy a heart.

Did she really think I was happy to leave them for a life of luxury? Did I look that shallow to her?

I blinked back the blurry eyes and breathed deeper to force my mind on the loops. They were the only thing that mattered at this moment.

***

Before I knew, the sun dipped and evening came bringing the moment of the ultimate change in my life.

The silver dress shimmered as I walked through the dry meadow. Wind fluttered my off-shouldered loose sleeves. Loose tendrils of my dark caramel waves swayed as the twin braids with woven daisies fell limp over my chest.

I looked at my folded hands in the front stained with cold gray of clay. Intricate patterns swirled up from the palm to the base of my elbows and I stifled an urge to itch. These hands were decorated for my groom to hold during the ceremony. Only he had the right to taint them as he pleased, right along with my life.

I breathed deeper and forced my mind to not stray into darker corners. There was no use. My fate was sealed.

With that thought, I finally looked up and found my coven standing on both sides of the cliff clearing, watching me arrive.

There was Doria smiling at me, wearing the yellow scarf I just knitted over her crimson dress.

Margherita eyed me with thinly veiled concern as her stained pink lips curled curled into a frown.

There were my aunts sniffing, my uncles standing solemn and proud, my cousins who I spent better half of my life chasing in the fields, laughing, and bantering. My coven people who had seen me wobble in my first steps and now seeing my walking to meet my future.

And my Baba, standing near the edge. The man who taught me to cast spells, to reach for my innermost witch self, and never regret who I was.

Suddenly, I was filled with a sense of certainty. I had a purpose to serve this people who shaped my life, to secure theirs. And I was ready to do whatever it took to make my coven proud.

My gaze rested on the man in a crimson long tunic opposite to my baba.

Even if I had to marry a Blue.

The blue eyes glimmered in the moonlight when our gazes met.

I walked to the edge of the cliff and turned around to stand between my father and my groom, my past and my future, my blood and my oath.

The wind rustled around us in gentle waves as baba took the unpainted palm of my right hand and breathed before looking at the crowd.

"Tonight, we're here to form a union, a bridge that will connect two souls for life. It is my honor to initiate the holy bond by holding the hand of the bride to bring her to her groom who shall hold her hand and form the bridge between the past and the future, between families and heritage, between relations of blood and soul. In life and death, together," Baba looked at Prince Terrence. "Terrence Beverdon, do you accept?"

Prince Terrence nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "I accept."

Baba then turned to me. "Esmarelda Faireborne, do you accept?"

I took in a shaky breath. "I accept."

"Then take her hand, Terrence Beverdon."

I was looking down when a warm hand smoothed beneath my calloused palm and raised it to align with my other one in Baba's hold.

A tingle prickled through my left arm and my fingers twitched. If Prince Terrence had felt anything, his face didn't betray, holding the serene mask in place as he stared down at our hands.

"And with this, as the Eastern Witch Coven stand to witness, the bridge of life is finally formed. Now, we will seal the union by joining hands of the bride and the groom."

Baba's hand trembled beneath my as he slid it closer to Prince Terrence for holding, even though he looked solemn to the world.

With both my hands in his gentle warm grasp, Prince Terrence met my eyes and finally smiled.

"May I pronounce you both soulmates of life." With that declaration from the Coven Father, the crowd went wild.

My heart shouldn't thunder this much the way it did. My palm shouldn't become slippery with sweat as he rubbed soft circles over my knuckles. And my entire world definitely shouldn't stop at those sorcerous blue eyes.

Who was the witch here, exactly?