He put a hand to his chest. “I would never outshine the bride. It simply wouldn’tdo.”
I made a soft hummming noise but didn’t disagree.
Deon touched up my makeup, making me look less blinky and my cheeks less pink. I liked the result.
With his help, I was sliding into my dress when Molly bullied her way in and caught a glimpse of the harness and weapons. She rolled her eyes—a slightly drunken eyeroll. “Really?Really? At awedding?Yourwedding?”
“Yes. Really. No arguments.”
She laughed, a giggle that tinkled against my heart and left me feeling all mushy inside again. “Only you, girl. Here. Lemme help.” Deon stepped aside, with a tender look on his face as Moll smoothed my sleeves into place and began doing up mydress in back. I had an instant of being inside Eli’s brain. He was smoking a cigar and sipping very expensive scotch. Laughing. I shut my shields between us. Fast. Before he noticed.
My dress wasn’t white. It was very slightly gold, with shimmering gold threads here and there. The silk piping at the pointed cuffs and hem were black and very thin. The buttons were black pearls, and the buttonholes were little black straps. The beading at the V-neck included gold pearls, citrines, and some kind of faceted black stones. The train was piped and lined in black. My colors. Black and gold. My dancing shoes were gold with black straps. There was no veil. I was what I was. I wasn’t hiding anything.
“Close your eyes,” Molly said.
I did, having no idea why I was so complacent tonight.
She turned me toward the tri-fold mirror and smoothed my bodice into place. Deon arranged my train, a ridiculous two foot cape-like dragging thing that could at least be hooked up and attached to my hips with a hidden set of hook and eye clips so I could dance, after. But—a train. On me. Like an anchor.Crap.
The two fussed with the cuffs and adjusted the gold nugget necklace I never took off. I kept my eyes closed and, weirdly, found it almost soothing to have them fret over me.
When Quint helped me dress, it was efficient and brusk.
This was kind.Dang. It was more than kind. It was loving. Tears welled beneath my lids and I willed them away before anyone saw and tried to stick more mascara on me.I willnotbe a girly girl and weep on my wedding day. I will not!
I had told my female attendants they could wear whatever they wanted. Deon had totally vetoed that and presented them with a limited color palette from which to choose, though he did agree that they could wear what styles they wanted. Molly and Angie were wearing some sort of color that looked like the teal ofpeacock tails, perfect with their light red hair. The others were in dark scarlet or midnight blue, and none of the dresses matched.
The male attendants and groomsmen would be decked out in evening wear, and I’d had no say in any of that either, thank goodness. Deon hadn’t told me because he knew I wouldn’t care what anyone wore. Considering the number of our attendants, I was pretty sure no one would be sitting in the pews.
Deon placed a little circlet on my head. It wasn’t my Dark Queen crown, Le Breloque, the official laurel leaved crown that had claimed me and sometimes refused to come off. I had declined to wear the ornery, possibly sentient thing. This was a simple gold band that had some give in it and that I could take off when I wanted. Like after the ceremony, for dancing.
All I wanted was the food and the dancing, and everyone knew it.
And then there was Deon. From what I had heard, he had been giving orders like a major general on a battlefield. Rushing around. Being bossy. For days. When he wasn’t dressing me or feeding me.
This was all girlie.Sofreaking girlie. But a tiny part of my heart thought it was also beautiful. And maybe kinda cool that my friends wanted to do all this crap for me.
“Okay. Now,” Moll said.
I heard them move back. I was gonna hate this. I opened my eyes.
I’d heard other brides say they didn’t recognize themselves, but I did. I was me. For once, Madame Melisande had captured me, all of me, in one dress, my wedding dress. It was soft, flowing, fierce, tight at the torso and yet lose enough to lift my arms. It was way more regal than I had expected, and the dress seemed to gleam as I shifted position to see myself from all sides.
I adjusted the crown. Stuck my hands into the faux pockets and checked my weapons.
“This’ll do,” I said.
Molly rolled her eyes.
Deon said, “Do?Do?You lookmagnificent, Queenie.”
???
The ride to the Sunrise Stone Chapel was raucous, though Molly and Angie, sitting to either side of me in the limo, were quiet. They sensed my mood. Not sad. Just . . . too much. My life was sometimes too much. And the dress. And a wedding. And Quint in a hospital bed, healing, finally, because Koun had waked, put on his tux, and gone to the hospital to feed her.
Koun didn’t like feeding people, though he made exceptions for close family. Sometimes. But my personal psycho, Quint? He fed her. Never said why her and not others of the security team. He just went. He had reported back that she was snarly and cursing and threatening everyone because her own crew wouldn’t let her check out against medical advice (despite having pins and plates and other people’s blood in her) and come to the wedding. Sooo, normal, I guess. For her. For my psycho lady-in-waiting / bodyguard / personal assistant.
Koun had arranged for someone to livestream the ceremony for Quint. She’d be able to view the ceremony virtually, as it happened, though not participate in reality. It didn’t totally mollify her, but it did moderate the worst of her antics.
