“Shut it, you. You’ll put her off you,” said Idris. “Have fun, girls!”
“We will,” said Rinka.
“Have fun and be careful,” called Alison after them.
She was such a gem. Just one more night, and they’d belong to each other forever.
Chapter Twenty
THE WEDDING
Alison
The girls had enjoyed a considerably quieter night than the boys, judging by their encounter in Alison’s garden.
They had started the evening with a lovely ritual Lady Sibba had found in a book in the town archives. They went out to the standing stone circle at the border of Alison and Keir’s properties and shared a bottle of sparkling wine in some fancy goblets Rinka had found at Weldan House.
“The goblets symbolize the feminine vessel,” Lady Sibba read. “We share them and the bonds of sisterhood in this golden circle.”
“Cheers!” said Rinka, holding up her glass.
“Not yet,” said Lady Sibba. She continued reading. “We anoint the bride-to-be and give our blessing for her happy marriage.”
“Anoint?” asked Alison. It was getting pretty cold out with the sun setting. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be covered in wine.
“Oh, there’s meant to be a cup of oil,” said Lady Sibba. “You just dab a little on the forehead.”
“I’ve got it,” said Gwenla. “Won’t be a minute.” The old dwarf hurried off back to the cottage.
“Do you suppose the order of the ritual matters?” asked Ceri, shivering.
“I doubt it,” said Lady Sibba. The elf clutched her heavy cloak to her chest. Even though she was dressed the most warmly, she also seemed the least comfortable.
“Let’s keep going,” said Alison. “We can come back to the anointing.”
“Okay, where were we? Ah, yes. ‘We shower her with flowers to symbolize fertility.’”
There weren’t many flowers blooming at this time of year, but Gwenla had managed to scrounge up a few of the later camellias. It seemed a shame to tear their perfect little petals, but magic demanded sacrifices.
Gwenla made it back in time to shred her own camellia on Alison, and then she dabbed a drop of oil on Alison’s head. “Not too much. I don’t want you to be greasy and have spots on your wedding day.”
“Last thing,” said Lady Sibba. “We raise our glasses to toast the bride’s health and good fortune. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” they all said.
“Quick, let’s get back inside,” said Alison.
They followed her into the cottage, where they shared tea, biscuits, and the kind of story about their partners that would have made Alison’s mother blush (thankfully, she’d turned in early at the inn).
Charlotte had just joined them for a final drink before they turned in themselves when they heard the chaos outside.
“That’ll be Idris,” said Rinka. “It always is when there’s this much of a racket.”
She was right, of course, but it wasn’t just him. Just about every man in town came out of Alison’s hedge maze. Alison was glad to see Mr. Craig apprehended—she was still sore about her treatment with the roof—and even more glad still to see Keir.
He looked like he was having a great night. His collar was undone, and his dark hair was a mess on his head, but his cheeks were flushed with joy. She knew this kind of rowdy partying wasn’t really his preference, but she was glad he’d participated in the tradition. And apparently far from getting into trouble themselves, they’d actually stopped a trouble-maker who was on the loose.
“Those will be our husbands,” Alison said to Rinka. She glanced at Ceri, who smiled, and she even dared to glance at Charlotte, who blushed. She’d read the Julian situation correctly, then.
