Chapter 87 A Festival Of Bonds

• Hours later, she barely recognized the woman staring back from the floor-length mirror. Silver hair framed her face like spun moonlight, her eyes brighter than the crown she wore. Gone was the frightened omega who once cowered under a tyrant’s hand. Before her stood the Silver Queen—no longer surviving, but ruling—mated to a king who saw her as his equal, his everything.
• "Wow!" A shaky laugh caught in her throat. Fingers grazed the silk of her gown, tracing the way it shimmered in the light. Goosebumps rose along her arms. "I look—"
• “Celestial,” Margaret whispered over her shoulder, her reflection meeting Bobby’s with warm approval.