Dripping from the kitchen tipped me off before another deluge of Woolly’s tears flooded the sinks.
“Don’t cry,” I warned her. “You’ll make me cry, and then we’ll both be in trouble.”
Every window cracked open, and each set of curtains slid apart in order to give her the clearest view.
“You’ll be able to watch the whole ceremony.” Screw etiquette, I was getting married on my front lawn in clear view of Woolworth House. “You won’t miss a thing. I promise.”
The Grande Dame approved, thinking it a political move. Our Society peers would likely follow her lead. Let them think it was a statement that two old and powerful houses were joining as one.
The people who mattered knew the truth, that I would never exclude my mother, in whatever form she occupied, from the festivities. She had lost too much for me to cost her that too.
The real fun would begin when the ceremony got underway and our guests got an eyeful of our bridesmaids, groomsmen, ring bearer, and flower girl.
My future mother-in-law would swoon if she had an inkling of the diversity in our retinue. Her earlier show of kindness in attending me instead of Linus almost made me feel bad about blindsiding her, but my family took many and varied shapes. I wasn’t willing to exclude a single member from this day, and neither was Linus. The Society and its xenophobia could grin and bear it for me one day the way I did for them every day.
All too soon, Lethe was taking my hands, ducking to meet my eyes, and asking, “Are you ready?”
No hesitation. No second thoughts. No regrets. “Yes.”
Hooking her arm through mine, she led the way. “Then let’s go tie ourselves a knot.”
The front lawn had been utterly transformed, and it took my breath away. White chairs dotted the grass in tidy rows. Fairy lights twinkled, strung from salvaged wood poles to either side of the aisles. A path of river rock harvested from the creek behind the house served as the carpet I would walk, an old gwyllgi tradition that warmed my heart. And there were flowers. Everywhere. Petals, blossoms, buds.
Maud would have loved it.
The thought summoned a cold hand on my opposite shoulder as Cletus joined us, much to the surprise of those able to perceive him. I twined my fingers with Cletus’s and Lethe’s, and we strolled up the aisle, the other bridesmaids falling in behind us. When we reached the podium, I took my place front and center, and Lethe took hers a step back. So on and so on, the bridesmaids fanned out behind me. With a tender caress of his bony fingers down my cheek, Cletus drifted into the background, unwilling to let his unorthodox inclusion detract from the ceremony.
Familiar faces dotted the crowd: Clem, Esteban, Mr. Hacohen, Matron Orestes, Mary Alice, Oslo, and the Tatter crew. I wished for Cricket and the girls from Haint Misbehavin’, but I had to settle for a dozen girls from Haint Behavin’, who were all paranormal and wouldn’t faint once the ceremony began.
The orchestra the Grande Dame insisted on began to play as the flower girl emerged from the vicinity of the carriage house, where the groom’s party had dressed. Eva was gorgeous in a miniature version of my dress dyed the color of a bleeding heart. Her hair hung in ringlets the humidity conspired to tug straight again. She carried a delicate white wicker basket and tossed rose petals harvested from Maud’s garden.
Behind her came the ring bearer, our little Oscar, which gave anyone unable to see him a fright.
Oh well.
A silk pillow drifting down the aisle, rings glinting in its center, didn’t rate on my weird scale these days.
Tethered to the pillow by a slender magical chain, Keet fluttered here and there. Guests unable to perceive Oscar must believe we had taught our bird to play ringbearer, like the chain was what kept the pillow aloft. From all the whirring and clicking, who knows? They might have assumed he was animatronic.
The groomsmen began their walk next, led by Hood, who paused at the end of the river rock path while the others fanned out on the side opposite us. The wedding march began to play as Linus stepped into view.
The oxygen punched out of my lungs, and Lethe had to elbow me to remind me to breathe.
His tux was simple, but I had seen the bills and was aware how much simple cost a man of his station. Despite the heat, his face wasn’t dewy, all thanks to a sigil I designed to put the kibosh on the idea he should wear makeup. I didn’t mind the makeup as much as the fact it concealed his freckles, particularly my favorite cluster, the one shaped like a daisy under his left eye, and I wasn’t giving them up for the sake of photos that could be manipulated later.
Tonight he wore his hair slicked back in a tail, and already my fingers itched to set the long strands free.
His mother joined him, her dress a crimson sheath with a high lace collar and elegant sleeves that ended in cuffs at her wrists. Everyone rose when she took his arm, and together they walked down the aisle.
Vision blurring, I accepted the Grande Dame’s hand when she offered it and bent to kiss each of her cheeks before she took her position as officiate behind the podium where an open grimoire awaited her.
Linus and I had written our own vows to supplement the ceremony, and we had done it on Eileen’s pages so they would be preserved, and she would be included too.
Hood stepped forward once the Grande Dame was in position and clasped hands with Linus. He drew him into a brief man hug then gestured down the aisle he and Lethe and Midas had paved for us.
“Today you each walked this path in love,” he said, managing to include us both in his speech. “May you use it to find your way back to each other should you ever get lost. Moss will grow over it in time, and grass will spring up around it, but it will always be there, right beneath the surface, if you’re willing to look.”
How easy it was to picture a bench positioned at the end, where we met to resolve all our problems. Or an arbor we strolled under while discussing any issues that might arise. How easy it was to picture a future with Linus, period.
Tears threatened yet again, hotter this time, and I had trouble seeing the moment Linus stepped past Hood to join me, but his hands were cool in mine, and his grip sure. He was ready, and so was I.
“Last chance to chicken out,” I whispered. “I won’t even bawk at you if you run.”
“Your friends and my family would tar and feather me if I tried,” he murmured back. “This is the happiest day of my life, Grier. The only way I’m leaving this spot without you as my wife is if you command me to do so.”
“Would you leave if I ordered you to go?”
“I would do anything to make you happy.”
“Even break your heart into tiny pieces?”
“Even that.”
“Where is Sir Bonks-A-Lot when I need him?” I rubbed my thumbs across his knuckles. “This doubt we both carry? About ourselves? About each other? We’re setting it down tonight, right here, on this very spot, and we are never picking it up again.”
He rolled his shoulders as if shrugging off the weight forever perched there and smiled his tiniest smile. “As you wish.”
A throat cleared, jerking our attention to his mother, who looked ready to start tapping her foot. “Are you two quite done?”
“Yes,” we said in unison, gripping each other’s hands tighter.
“We are gathered here tonight…” her voice rang out, strong and sure after years of speaking in the Lyceum, “…beneath the full moon, in all Hecate’s splendor, to join this man…”
There was more. There must have been. There had to have been.
But I didn’t register anything beyond the steady navy gaze piercing me down to my soul.
As usual, Linus must have been paying better attention than me. He spoke to me, and I couldn’t have told you for the life of me what he said if we hadn’t already practiced this part. The blood rushing in my ears blocked the rest, and the spots in my vision warned me I hadn’t breathed since he started talking.
“I promise to love you all the days of my life,” he ended. “I am yours.”
A sob caught in my throat, and I had to swallow several times before I could stammer out my vows. I might as well have stuffed my cheeks with marshmallows for how much sense I made to my own ears, but as a tear rolled down to fall off his chin, I figured I must have gotten the important parts right.
Puffed up with importance, Oscar presented the pillow, which was fading through his fingers as he ran out of oomph. Ribbon secured two simple platinum bands in the center. Linus collected mine, and I his, before Oscar lost corporality. Happy to set the pillow aside, he grew brighter without the drain on his energy then zipped over to Corbin.
Keet, pleased to have the pillow to himself, nestled down and began chewing on the ribbon, fraying its edges.
As was my right, I had been in charge of Linus’s wedding band, and I took great pains to ensure the sliver of platinum fit over the lip of his engagement ring since he never took it off and refused to cooperate even long enough for the jeweler to solder them together. And, as was his right, he had selected mine.
“By the power vested in me,” the Grande Dame continued, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your groom.”
I flung my arms around Linus’s neck and hauled him down to me, kissing him with every ounce of love in my heart. He returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around my waist and dipping me until my hair brushed the petal-strewn path. Laughing, I clung to him, almost tipping him over and on top of me.
Now that would have made one heck of a front-page photo.
The Grande Dame resumed her place with a recitation of our parents, our titles, blah, blah, blah.
“There is one small thing.” He drew me upright and cupped my hands between us. “Feel this?” He nudged my finger over a bump in the ring that I hadn’t noticed when I tried it on weeks ago. “Press it.”
The bump was a lever of some kind, and it caused hidden sigils to ignite across the band in bright light. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Wait for it.”
“Wait for…?” This time I did swoon. “It’s not real, right? Tell me it’s not real.”