Page 39 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Life as she knows it is over.

* * * * *

The wedding is a dreary affair.

The church is empty. Pye offers to fill it with people — Samuel, Selbie, Cascade — but Avirin refuses. She can’t face anyone in her current state. Her features have not changed back since the party, trapping her with solid black eyes and hideous horns that make her temples pound.

Even her own parents aren’t in attendance. Everything was done in a rush, no wedding breakfast or reading of the banns. Avirin tells herself it’s better this way. She repeats it like a mantra as the echoes of her footsteps follow her down the aisle.

The vacant pews are cast in gray from the rainstorm brewing outside. The only bright spot is Pye standing at the front of the church, their pollen-yellow skin glowing like the sun. They are in their finest suit, looking at Avirin in a way that she can’t decipher. When she reaches them, she keeps her eyes down, but they smile softly and whisper, “You’re beautiful.”

Only now does she realize she is not alone in this. It is not just her taking these steps for the first time. It is not just Avirin’s life in upheaval; this is Pye’s marriage, too, and this is not the wedding he deserves. He should have a celebration, the spouse he chooses, a proper ceremony with all of his friends —

But it’s too late for that.

Remorse sits heavy in Avirin’s chest. The two of them stand in front of the priest. The man stumbles over his words, distracted by the monstrosity beneath Avirin’s veil.

She wants to sink inside herself, to disappear into her shame, but Pye looks at her and squeezes her hands.

At another time, perhaps that would be comforting. Currently, Avirin is far too aware of every errant shift in the room. There is a draft on her ankles, a strain in her neck, a too-tight dress that scrapes her back. It’s all she can do to remain still until Pye slips a ring onto her finger, and the ceremony is finally over.

It all passes in a blur that leads them back to Ellison House. While Pye and Selbie load Avirin’s belongings onto the back of the coach, Avirin climbs the stairs to her room. She is under no illusion; this will be the final time she is ever welcome here. On the surface, she is glad of it. This is the home of a thousand little discomforts, a place where Avirin never felt the reprieve of being alone. Someone was always there to watch her, judge her, tally her sins over dinner. Yet for all its unpleasantness, it is the only home Avirin has ever known. It is familiar. It is expected. There was always some relief in that.

Avirin reaches the drawing room and finds her mother with a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Lady Ellison watches Pye and Selbie out the window, a stream of tears glistening on her cheeks.

Avirin does not ask where her father is. She is numb to the pain of his absence, but could he not bother to hold her mother while she cries? Avirin feels a pang of sorrow. For all her mother’s meddling and controlling, perhaps she does love Avirin in her own way. Perhaps Avirin just doesn’t understand her. Perhaps they do not understand each other.

Avirin lingers in the doorway. “I’ll be leaving now.”

She isn’t sure what she hopes to happen. For her mother to turn, so that Avirin can see the compassion she has always yearned for. For them to share an understanding without words, an apology Avirin could assemble without ever hearing the word “sorry.” For her mother to finally look at her with recognition. To see her. Not with pride, but just…acceptance.

Her mother keeps her eyes out the window. “You have ruined…everything.”

Cold steel settles through Avirin’s body.

Her mother’s voice is slow, inflicting every word. “All that I have done, I have done for you. I sacrificed. I suffered. I was miserable with you, yet I spent my life ensuring your success — and you have thrown it all away.”

Avirin stays quiet. She can’t get her mouth to move. She doesn’t trust what she would say.

Her mother’s lips quiver. “You are selfish. Spoiled. Monstrous.” She balls the handkerchief into her shaking fist, never once glancing at Avirin. “I pray I never see your face again.”

The room fills with vengeful silence. Without a word, Avirin returns to the carriage.

Her trembling fingers try to tie her bonnet, but she can’t get the knot right. The fabric strains atop her horns. Tears prick the edge of her vision, frustration and sadness ripping her memories to shreds. She carries the weight of her own emotions mixed with a smaller, younger version of herself. She wants to cry for that little girl. She still is that little girl somewhere deep inside, but she has to maintain her composure. There is an entire carriage ride before she can be alone again.

Pye opens the coach door and offers his hand, but when her foot slips off the step, she clenches her fist around his. She cannot take this. She will combust. Frustration builds, fizzing and bubbling until she wants to scream —

“Are you all right?” Pye asks softly.

She hiccups a breath. “I — wish to be alone.”

Pye’s brows furrow. “Are you certain? I can —”

“Yes.”

Pye’s brows furrow with concern, but he doesn’t make her stand in the open any longer. He helps her up with a hand on the small of her back before he climbs into the driver’s seat next to Selbie.

Avirin closes the curtains so she can sob into the palm of her hand.