Bryna Donoghue examined herself in the ornate mirror and decided that while she might not be the most beautiful woman at tomorrow's festivities, she sure as hell wouldn't be the ugliest. At a most average height of five feet, six inches, she never really had to complain about being too short, and still she was able to wear heels around most men without being taller. She had been graced with an hourglass figure and curves that many a woman envy, but if she wasn't careful with her of chocolate intake, she risked having a bit of a muffin top when she wore her favorite skinny jeans. However, in her experience, she noted more often than not that men didn't mind a little extra woman to grab a hold of, especially if an extra pound or two meant her bust filled out quite nicely.
She could thank her Irish ancestors for wavy, auburn hair, fair skin, and elvish looks. It was her mother though, which she got her piercing blue eyes from. She knew the smokey shadow she applied to her eyelids called attention to them, revealing their color to be like the depths of the sea. As contrast, her hair, pulled back in a gem-studded hairpin, spilled like muted fire down her back. The dress she wore was a silken, forest green. It's cut was simple, yet classy, with its off the shoulder sleeves and straight skirt that fell right below the knee. Although, the slit on the right side that reached almost to the top of her thigh whispered of something more sultry.
Yes, Bryna thought as she twirled around for one last good look at herself, she was almost stunning. Any man would be lucky to have her on his arm. And yet, at twenty-three, she found herself in another bridesmaid's dress, hopelessly readjusting her breasts to maximize her cleavage, and wondering what she was going to do with herself now that one of the last of her best friends was getting married and she was no where closer to finding herself a man-or much of a stable job for that matter. Of course, her mother would tell anyone that would listen-and many who didn't care to-that her daughter had made a mistake when she doubled majored in English and Fine Arts. The woman would never understand how anyone could manage to get a degree in something that should be considered just a hobby. In all fairness, she hardly understood much about her daughter's personality anyway.
Bryna's mind was sharp and she was very perceptive. She had been told for most of her life that she should go into one of the sciences and find a steady career there. While learning in general interested her, she only dabbled in some of the sciences more than anything. She had no drive to be a doctor, and while some of the more interesting sides of chemistry intrigued her, she had no notion of spending the rest of her life cooped up in a lab. For her, the written word and the arts let her mind escape her daily life. She loved to create, have her hands messy in some project, and the vast amount of books she had acquired over the years allowed her imagination the freedom to travel the world, and far beyond. Although, she still had no idea how she was going to support herself on pure passion alone.
"Bryna? Is that you in here?" A quiet voice called from behind the door.
There was a soft knocking, and then a heart shaped face, framed by straight black hair, peeked through the crack as the door opened.
"Oh Maddie!" she exclaimed, "Thank the heavens you're here. Being all by myself, I was starting to lose my sanity."
Bryna hugged her laughing friend, then held Madeline Everett out at arm's length to survey her. The other woman had a year and a half on Bryna, yet she still managed to look like she was in high school. If people claimed Bryna had some features of a faery, then they would think Madeline was a pixie just pulled from the forest. Her hair was cut in a short bob that only added to the roundness of her face, her dainty noise pointed slightly upwards, her eyes were a dewy grey and very wide, and she had a small sprinkling of freckles across her high cheek bones. She was the shortest of Bryna's friends, and yet her slim, tiny body still seemed to be willowy. She had the grace of a forest maiden, no doubt, and it seemed only fitting that she found her heart's joy in dancing.
"I don't know how you stay so young. I'm already vigorously applying moisturizer every night to try and keep the crow's feet away," Bryna said, holding Madeline's face between her hands and turning it side to side as she examined it.
"It's not all it's cracked up to be. The rest of the dancers in my troupe still make cracks about child labor laws," Madeline said on a sigh.
"Oh, it's been too long," Bryna announced, slinging her arm over her friend's shoulders.
A second later, Madeline broke away from Bryna's grasp to head back over to the door, picking up a tray she had placed down outside of it when she knocked. Bryna's eyes widened at the champagne and two flutes that sat on the silver, mirrored surface.
"I thought we'd start the night off with a toast," Madeline said, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. Never one to turn down a glass of champagne, Bryna readily obliged, feeling quite relaxed as they sat down in the ornate, cushioned chairs and gossiped like schoolgirls.
What a pair we make, Bryna thought, as she looked across the room and into the floor length mirror next to her oak dresser, studying their reflection. Madeline's dress was violet, the other color scheme of tomorrow's wedding, and cut completely different. It had a wide-strap halter top, and it's skirt was shorter and puffed out with lacy underskirts. Bryna had to give the bride credit, as far as the bridesmaid's dresses went, these dresses weren't only what the bride wanted, but actually suited the women wearing them as well.
"Who would have thought that after two year's apart," Madeline broke Bryna's thoughts, "we'd be standing in some fancy room of a glorified mansion on the eve of Erin's wedding?"
But that was exactly where they found themselves, and for that very reason. The wedding was being held in a building that had so much brick and stained glass that Bryna decided it was more of a miniature castle than a mansion. Even more romantic, it sat upon a tiny island in one of the bays along the Northern East Coast, completely secluded from the rest of the world. Coming from a family of very old money and marrying a man from the same, Erin had no problems paying for the very fairy tale wedding she had always desired, having rented out the whole castle and staff for the weekend to hold her private wedding.
"Anyway," Bryna started to nudge Madeline along, "we better get downstairs to meet the wedding planner from hell and let her give us a once over. Everything would just be ruined if one stitch was out of place or our hairstyles were not to her liking." Bryna sneered as the image of the crotchety older woman that plagued her thoughts. "Heaven knows how she ever became known as one of the best in the business."
"Now Bryna, you keep that temper of yours in check," Madeline scolded. "I didn't find her a bit mean. She's just a little strict, is all. She has to be to make Erin's day perfect."
"Of course you wouldn't," Bryna scoffed.
The two left Bryna's guest bedroom, arm in arm and padded down the thickly carpeted stairs at the end of the hallway. When they descended down into the Great Entrance Hall, heels clicking against the white marble flooring, there wasn't a soul in sight.
"That's strange," Bryna commented, "last I heard, Ms. Acker was complaining up a storm down here. It was quite a ruckus. I thought she'd be down here arguing for ages."
"Now, now," Madeline clucked her tongue.
"Maybe she's gone to the ballroom to harass Thad about his horrible waltzing. Although, for once, I'll have to agree with her on that point."
Madeline rolled her eyes at Bryna.
The two headed towards the ballroom at the back of the castle. The reception was to take place there, and exaggerations aside, the wedding planner had spent many hours in the room with the groom tying to perfect the routine for the couple's first dance. As they passed the castle's library though, Bryna noticed the door was slightly ajar, and as always, her curiosity got the better of her.
"Wait," Bryna pulled on Madeline's arm to halt her. "I want to see who's in here. Maybe it's that cute groomsman I've been told about. Might as well take advantage of being all dressed up, right?" Bryna winked suggestively at her friend, as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
When she stepped into the room, Bryna was disappointed, for the only other inhabitant was much older than she had been hoping and by the white collar at his throat, she easily recognized him as the Reverend who was to oversee the marriage. As much as she thought Reverend Bodee was a nice, caring man, he still reminded Bryna of her younger, Bible School days when annoying and awkward were synonyms of her name. She swore her personality regressed ten years every time she talked to the man due to his condescending tone, so she really rather avoid it. Plus, the setting screamed "do not disturb," since the room was mostly dark, just the dim light of a candelabra shining out next to his chair.
It wasn't until Madeline's shrill of a scream pounded in her ear that Bryna saw the blood. Well, not so much the blood itself, but the shine it created against the black suit as had ran down the Reverend's chest and pooled on his thigh. But it was the knife that had been jammed into his rib cage, near his heart, that told Bryna something had gone horribly wrong.