“That can’t be right.” I rushed to the window, looking at the position of the sun. “That would mean I’m nearly two hours late to my own wedding.”
Fletcher merely stared at me, his droopy eyes conveying judgment I wouldn’t have thought possible from a canine.
Grandmother arranged this weeks ago, and I vaguely remembered her telling me she’d sent the offer of a treaty between the dragon shifter community and my own witchy one. That the Emberforge king had replied, agreeing to the match.
“This will be good for you,” Grandmother had said. “It’ll provide stability.”
I’d nodded and agreed because, unlike Cyrene, who’d also faced an arranged marriage, I wasn’t heartbrokenabout it. It was a practical, political necessity, and I could continue my research while fulfilling whatever minimal royal duties were required.
“Sasha woke me up this morning,” I said, frowning as I remembered. “I guess it was this morning, wasn’t it? She had that much-too-garish dress with her and told me…” I sighed. “What did she tell me?”
That if you weren’t at the garden by four o’clock sharp, she’d be miffed,Fletcher said in his usual, woeful voice.
No one survived miffing Sasha. And was miffing even a word? I ran my fingers through my shoulder-length blonde hair and tilted the tips toward my eyes. Should’ve gotten it cut for the wedding, right? Oh well, it was too late for that now.
You need to hurry,Fletcher said.
“Right.” I pushed my hair back from my face, realizing bits of paper had gotten tangled in it. “I was going to take a break at three and get ready.”
I glanced down at myself, horrified to discover I was wearing a practical tunic and trousers that were now stained with ink and what appeared to be the remnants of breakfast.
“I can’t get married like this.” I spun in a circle. “I need to bathe. I need to change. I need to be there an hour and forty-six minutes ago.”
Forty-eight,Fletcher said, dropping to the floor with a heavy sigh.
I bolted for the spiral staircase that connected my tower to the main house, practically flying down the steps with Fletcher’s nails clicking behind me. Halfway down, I had a better idea.
“Wind currents,” I said, coming to a screeching stop. “That will be much faster.”
I flung open a window and focused my magic on the air outside. In seconds, I created a controlled current strong enough to carry me. I climbed onto the windowsill.
“Meet you there,” I called to Fletcher, who barked in alarm as I leaped into the air.
The wind caught me, whipping my hair as it carried me swiftly toward my bedroom window on the other side of the estate. I guided the current easily, though I rarely used this method of transportation in front of others. Grandmother considered it unseemly for a witch of my station and kept suggesting I purchase a flying broom at the market. Why would I want to carry a broom around all the time on the odd chance I’d need it?
I sailed through my open bedroom window and landed with a soft thud on the plush carpet. The wedding gown still lay on my bed, a confection of ivory silk and delicate lace. Beside it, Sasha had also laid out appropriate undergarments, shoes, and a small tiara made from delicate silver leaves.
“No time for a proper bath,” I said, stripping fast and chucking my clothing into the basket. I snatched up the dress and raced into the bathing chamber, flipping the gown over the door. A leap, and I landed in the tub. I channeled water vapor from the air, creating a small, warm rain cloud directly above me that immediately began to shower. Standing beneath my magical rain cloud, I scrubbed with soap, rinsing myself clean.
A bark announced Fletcher’s arrival. He scampered into the bathing chamber, took one look at my improvised shower, and decided to help, climbing into the tub and shaking himself, sending water droplets flying everywhere, including onto the pristinewedding gown.
“Fletcher, no.” I yelped, sending out a wind current to protect the dress. “You’re making it worse.”
Sorry.He jumped from the tub and latched onto the dress’s train, pulling the garment off the door and onto the tile floor.
“Please, don’t. You’ll tear it.” I grabbed a towel, drying off as quickly as possible while Fletcher continued trying to be helpful, now dragging the dress across the floor.
I snatched it from him and quickly stepped into it, foregoing the undergarments because there just wasn’t time. No one would know but me. The bodice was tight, the skirts voluminous, and I struggled to fasten the dozens of tiny buttons that ran down the back.
“I need help,” I grumbled, then had another idea. I summoned a gentle breeze, directing it to push each button through its corresponding loop. It mostly worked, though I suspected several were misaligned.
I used another air current to dry and arrange my hair, creating a small vortex that lifted the golden strands up and away from my face before settling them into what I hoped was an acceptable style. I jammed the tiara on top, grabbed some shoes, and rushed toward the door.
“Garden ceremony,” I shouted to Fletcher. “We’ll take the quickest route.”
This time I took the conventional path, running through corridors and down staircases, my skirts bunched in my fists. The few servants I passed gaped as I flew by, but I had no time for explanations.
I burst through the rear doors of the manor onto the wide stone terrace that overlooked Grandmother’s famous gardens. The ceremony was supposed to take place at the central fountain, surrounded by duskroses and frillablooms.
