dead white doves 1
They ordered twenty-four doves for the wedding.
The day Ormund married Edina, two of them died. They were meant to be released as they left the church, all lifting into the sky at once. But when the box was opened and they burst upwards in panic, one of them smashed its soft head against the lid again and again before finally finding its way out through one of the cathedral windows.
Lyona found the other one dead in the box, picked apart by the freed doves, its white feathers stained red. It happens, Grandma said, curling her fist around the bird’s frail body, when you lie before God.
Edina had already been pregnant. They both said the boy came prematurely, but it was huge, healthy, sweet-faced. And Ormund named him Lyonel.
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