Cole

Snowy sunlight dusts through ceiling height windows in one of the guest rooms in King Isaac’s castle. I stare at the snowflakes sticking to the frosted window as a woman with mousy brown hair and bright gray eyes adjusts my tuxedo for the eighth time, her small fingers deftly plucking invisible thread from my suit jacket.

“Mom,” I say, then clear my throat. “I’m sure I look fine.”

She glances up at me with glassy eyes before turning from me, walking toward the vanity. She’s wearing a shimmering gray gown and a cape trimmed with white fur, possibly mink. Her braided hair is wrapped in an updo at the...