Chapter 49

                                    

                                          
“Ta-daaaa!” Margaret exclaimed, whisking the cover off the outfit she had brought for me to wear.
                          
I just stood and stared at her, dumbfounded. “You… want me… to wear that?”
                          
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “Why, don’t you like it? It’s the latest fashion!” She turned the ridiculously formal suit—white and cyan, with a surfeit of lace and ruffles and frills—and looked at it with a pouty little frown.
                          
I heard Arthur choking a little behind me; Dylas’s snort of laughter wasn’t nearly so subtle. My ear began to twitch in annoyance. “Like it? Margaret. Even you should know me well enough by now to realize how I’d feel about wearing something like… like that,” I growled, gesturing contemptuously at the suit.
                          
She sighed, and said, “Well… Avani did seem to think you wouldn’t really approve of it. So as it happens, I brought an alternate. It’s a pity, though—it’s such a nice suit! You’d look so… dashing!”
                          
“I’d look like a performer in an ill-conceived circus. What’s my other choice?” I grumbled.
                          
“Avani helped Dolce with the design, so you ought to like it, if only for that reason, you ungrateful man,” she said with a grimace as she hurried off to swap outfits. Returning a few minutes later, she again whisked the cover off the hanger.
                          
My eyes opened wide, then I smiled a broad smile. “Ahh, yes. That’s much more like it.”
                          
“But… but that’s the same thing you wear every day!” she exclaimed, disappointed by my reaction. “You should wear something special to your own wedding!”
                          
“Not quite the same—it’s white and cyan, for one thing, and the trousers are more tailored than the ones I’m wearing now. But the overall style is much the same. I like it.”
                          
Margaret sighed again. “Avani was sure you would. Honestly, she said she preferred it, too. She said that seeing you so dressed up, with a shirt and everything, would just seem all wrong. She even called the other outfit ‘stuffy’!” Pushing the clothing into my arms, she threw up her hands in disgust and bustled away to let us dress.
                          
The king had indeed arrived for our wedding, intending to hold the knighting ceremony between our nuptials and the reception. Arthur had evidently discussed it with him, because instead of a formal ceremony, this was to be a casual event—much like our wedding. For despite Volkanon’s and Margaret’s best efforts, and despite the daunting number of guests expected at the reception, we’d still managed to keep the tone fairly informal, just as we wanted.
                          
After dressing in my room at the inn, Arthur, Dylas, and I all walked over to the castle to await the ceremony. It would be a simple affair—aside from the wedding party, the only others in attendance would be Volkanon, who would perform the ceremony on Venti’s behalf, His Royal Highness King Gilbert and his elite guard, who stood on duty at the doors to keep any overly eager well-wishers at bay, and Margaret, who was providing the music for the ceremony. The ceremony was to begin at 15:00, and the reception approximately an hour later.
                          
A few minutes before the hour, Margaret came hurrying through the side door from Avani’s rooms. She sat down at a beautiful, huge Elvish harp—apparently a family heirloom, lent to her for the occasion. She gently plucked at the strings, creating a soft melody. A few minutes later, the door to Avani’s room was thrown open, and Margaret changed her tune to a more ceremonial piece of music. Amber pranced out in her new frock, beaming in delight as Arthur tucked her hand into his arm and escorted her to her place before stepping over to his own. A moment later and Dolce stepped out. Dylas offered his arm to her, and as she took it, Pico appeared, fluttering around in her ghostly way—obviously envious of Dylas’s position. The soft yellowy moss green of the ladies’ dresses formed a pleasing contrast with the deep blue-violet trousers and bronze shirts worn by the two men. After they’d stepped aside in their places, there was a pause, then Avani appeared in the doorway.