Danae’s POV
People noticed the dress immediately.
Phones came out as we moved toward Golden Sands Bay.
Whispers in our wake.
Good.
The more people who saw me, the better.
“Table for two,” Eirwen told the hostess at the upscale restaurant at the water’s edge.
“My friend is the bride—she hasn’t eaten yet, and she’d like to enjoy a late brunch before the ceremony.”
The hostess beamed.
“Congratulations!
We’ll get you a lovely table with a view.
Perfect day for a beach wedding.”
“Thank you,” I said, and managed something that felt almost like a smile.
Eirwen slipped the hostess something—money, I assumed, or instructions—and we were seated on the terrace overlooking the exact stretch of beach where, in three hours, I was supposed to become Galen’s property.
“Would the bride like something to celebrate?” the server asked.
“Our Sea Goddess cocktail is perfect for beach weddings.”
“That sounds lovely.”
When he left, I leaned toward Eirwen.
“Ironic name, given what’s about to happen by the sea.”
She squeezed my hand.
“When it starts, don’t fight it.
Let it take you where it goes.
Natural, but dramatic enough that people remember.”
I nodded.
The blue cocktail arrived—coconut, blue cura?ao, an orchid at the rim.
Eirwen casually dropped something into it when the server’s back turned.
She looked at me.
I took a long, slow sip. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Nothing unusual in the taste.
Whatever she’d added was invisible, tasteless, working on its own schedule somewhere below the surface.
We talked lightly for about ten minutes—long enough.
I could feel something beginning to shift at the edges of my awareness, a controlled lightness that matched exactly what Eirwen had described.
Time.
I rose from the chair with deliberate grace and let the cocktail glass slip from my fingers.
It shattered on the terrace floor and every nearby head turned.
“I feel…
something’s wrong…
I don’t feel right,” I said, loud enough to carry to the tables around us, not so loud it felt performed.
I swayed toward the railing as though seeking fresh air.
My face had gone pale on its own—a side effect of whatever Eirwen had given me—and cold sweat was already beading at my temples.
My body was cooperating with the plan in ways I hadn’t fully anticipated.
“Danae!” Eirwen called out, her voice pitching perfectly into alarm.
“Are you okay?”
I turned toward her, let my eyes go unfocused, then rolled them back.
My body tipped backward.
A genuine sound of fear escaped my mouth as I fell—the white dress billowing around me like seafoam, like something drowning.
I hit the terrace floor harder than I’d planned, and then my body was convulsing, foam appearing at the corners of my mouth from whatever Eirwen had given me, and the restaurant erupted into screaming.
Please call an ambulance!”
Through barely-open eyes I could see the phones—dozens of them, recording everything.
People identifying themselves as medically trained pushing forward.
I surrendered to the drug and let myself go.
The last thing I heard was Eirwen’s voice, fractured and convincing:
“She’s supposed to be getting married today!
Oh God, please help her!”
Then the darkness took me, and for a little while, I was safe.
I woke slowly, pulled upward through layers of medicated quiet.
Voices first.
I kept my eyes shut.
“Any news on the incident?” Galen’s voice, tight and controlled.
“Who was responsible for the food?”
“The hotel manager checked everything.” Eirwen’s voice, carefully neutral.
“Surveillance, ingredients—all normal.
They think someone who was jealous might have tampered with her drink.”
A pause.
I could almost feel the tension he was generating from across the room.
“Fuck,” he said finally, low and sharp.
“This is just fucking perfect timing.
Tell them they don’t need to keep investigating.
It was probably an accident.”