Leilani.
Four months later:
I closed my eyes, smiling to myself as the strong wind ruffled my hair, sending many tiny pieces of confetti straight into my hair and mouth and floating into the air.
I stood before the triplets, my mates, clad in my white dress that hugged all my curves perfectly. My hair was styled into a chignon and my hands trembled with the weight of three rings resting on my fingers and three futures resting against my heart.
The great hall was quiet— so quiet I could hear the sound of everyone breathing. Hundreds watched from the marble steps below, yet all I could hear was the uneven rhythm of my own heartbeat.
Three men.
Three vows.
And a bond that wove through us, tighter than vines on an abandoned bridge. The high priest smiled at me but all I could see was my father's face, soft and warm. He smiled back with tears in his eyes.
"Bride, speak your vows."
