Konstantin leans over and claims my mouth in a kiss as fleeting as a snowflake’s thaw.I’ll see you at the altar, wife.
His solid shape disbands into silvery wisps that coil out of my skylight and into the winter-dark sky.
I take a second to compose myself, smoothing my palms over my dress before readjusting my diamond chains, which have no real need of adjusting. Once certain I won’t add to my father’s turmoil, I make my way to the door and ease it open.
I find him pacing the new hallway runner—a carpet of indigo hemmed in by a motif of silvery snowflakes and feathers. When he looks up, his throat rolls over a swallow that rocks the fragile hold I have over myself.
“Hi, Dádhi.”
His lips and shoulders press into firmer alignment. “You do realize you no longer live in a temperate climate,khráach?”
His incongruous question catches me off guard, but then he nods to my dress, and I understand it’s his way of asking if I’m warm enough.
I loop my arm through his and begin walking. Then, in the most deadpan tone I can muster, I quip, “Is this some underhanded way of informing me that you’re kicking me out of the nest for good?”
He balks. Until he catches my lips curling.
And then he sighs and tucks me closer. “I never imagined I’d only get twenty-five years…” His voice catches on a hoarse, labored inhale. When he speaks again, it’s with all the aplomb of an elitist king. “At least, it’s a profitable marriage.”
His ridiculous comment startles a laugh from my constricted lungs, which relaxes his tense features. Even his bicep feels softer when I pillow my cheek against it.
“Shoshair’s birthday is next month. What’s the plan?” I can feel him frown. “Did you think there was any chance I wouldn’t be home to celebrate my grandmother?”
“I…I…” His breathing is so deep it stirs the little flyaways that my tiara failed to tame.
To put him out of his emotional misery, I add, “I might stay awhile. Think you can pencil my visit into your busy ruling schedule?”
For a long moment, he’s quiet—but neither the sad sort of quiet, nor the speechless sort. The blissful sort.
With a long-suffering sigh, he drawls, “Has no one ever taught you that it’s impolite to outshine the master?”
As we traverse the drawing room, I pick my head off his arm and grin up at him. “You feel outshined, Dádhi?”
The gold hue of his eyes has never looked so liquid.
“I feel proud. And fucking miserable…but mostly proud.” His throat dips again.
I stop at the bottom of the Great Hall’s stairs to give him a hug. “I wish Glace and Luce were closer.”
“So do I,” he murmurs. “So do I.”
Someone must’ve spotted us, because string music begins to play. My father takes a fortifying breath as he takes hold of my arm again.
As we climb the stairs, I lean over to whisper, “Best not weep, or Jaytair will never let you live it down.”
My father smiles darkly. “Did I ever tell you how he fainted on the day of his nuptials?”
Although I’ve heard the story a hundred times, I say, “Tell me again.”
How I will miss my father’s delight—especially at Jaytair’s expense.
How I will miss Jaytair and Taytah, who are amongst the first of my loved ones we walk past. As well as Bisnonno, Mimi, Shoshair, and Bisnonna, who stand on either side of the torch-lined aisle, all harboring bright smiles and damp cheeks. Yes,all.
How I will miss Naeva—who blows me a kiss—and Lachlano—who shoots me a wink—when both travel home tomorrow. And Elio, although he did promise to stay in Glace for a whilelonger. I suspect it isn’tonlyfor my sake now that Sofiya has dissolved her betrothal to the glassblower.
As I smile at the wall of rainbow-haired Serpents standing behind my friends, I hold out my palm to stroke Mr. Jingles’s long nose, earning myself an affectionate lick.
How I’ll miss Zia Syb, whose expression is currently wavering between a grimace at the sight of her son’s proximity to Sofiya, a scowl at whatever amusing thing Phoeppa is murmuring inside her heavily-jeweled ear, and misty admiration when her gaze finally settles on me.
