[Leif's Pov—Continuation]
I HAVEN'T TOLD MY PARENTS YET.
The words slammed into my skull like a hammer of divine stupidity. I froze mid-step outside the tea hall, smiling stiffly at Madam—uh, Mother Selena—who was still talking about wedding colors. Wedding. Colors.
"Leif, dear, I think Alvar would look divine in navy," she was saying, all calm and composed. "And perhaps you in ivory silk?"
Navy. Ivory.
My brain short-circuited. I could already see it—my father collapsing from shock, my mother fainting into the wedding cake, Alina bullying Alvar and Zephyy eating the rings.
"Y-Yes, mother," I croaked, forcing a smile that screamed panic. "Ivory's… uh… very bridal."
As soon as her carriage left, I turned to Zephyy, clutching my head like the world's most dramatic soap opera hero.
"Zephyy," I hissed, "I'M DOOMED."
The false, tiny, smug creature blinked, completely unimpressed. "What's new about that, master? Wasn't your life already a continuous parade of doom?"
