barely remembered, but knowing that she’d been a part of that special night. Somewhere she hoped her dad was watching over her and was proud of the woman she’d become.
Her mom gave Lacey’s bare arm a rub. “You need a moment?”
“No,” she smiled and hugged her mom. “I’m good.”
Phin and Karwin, wearing dress uniforms similar to Gwarnon and Chel’s, but with more pins as befitting high-ranking officers, stepped before her with a smart click of their heels. They both bowed, then did a step back, revealing a beaming Jillian dressed in a rainbow. The dress appeared to have a full skirt made of clouds, the colors all swirling together without mixing, creating an ethereal effect. She had a basket of flowers on one arm, and a tiny dagger strapped to her waist via a jeweled belt.
Lacey knew it was a toy dagger, but she still rolled her eyes at Phin, who pretended not to see. Jillian already had her grandfathers wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it. Phin had argued that on Kadothia kids learned to use weapons at an early age, and Lacey had argued back that Jillian had almost blinded herself with a potato peeler three months ago. They compromised on a training dagger for Jillian, who decorated it with glitter and wore it everywhere she went.
“Jillybean.” Lacey crouched down and held out her arms. “You look so beautiful.”
Hugging her tight, Jillian then did a twirl, her hair a normal brown for once flowing around her like a ribbon.
“Lovely,” Phin said while Karwin nodded. “I have never seen a more beautiful fairy princess.”
“Thank you,” Jillian said with a wobbly curtsey.
A throat cleared nearby, and Lacey turned to find Wythe, dressed in the shiny black armor of a Warrior. He gave them a brief bow.
“My Lady Lacey, if you will please follow me? Your bondmates impatiently await.”
Laughing, she took a deep breath and fell into step behind him, their footsteps and the rustle of fabric the only sound.
Lacey sent her men a message through her crystal implant. “Hold your horses, I’m on my way.”
“Hold your horses?” Chel thought back. “What are horses?”
Gwarnon’s mental voice was much deeper, and held an odd note, “Hurry, my bride.”
“Gwarnon, is everything okay?” she sent back.
“Yes…I…I have a feeling that we need to get bonded as soon as possible.”
The wide double doors at the end of the hallway opened up, revealing a pathway through the nighttime darkness that looked like it was made of stars. The long path led to an outdoor temple of sorts built among the ancient branches of the mammoth trees. Glowing plants and softly shining orbs of light bathed the scene in a romantic glow, and little tiny shimmering butterflies filled the air above them.
Lacey paused for a moment, absorbing the beauty of the scene before her gaze locked on her men.
Guards bearing the heraldry of House Taylor lined the walkway, and they all snapped a salute as Lacey walked past. She glanced over her shoulder, realizing her mother had stopped and moved off to the side, where a small audience of people were gathered. Lacey gave a discrete wave as she realized they were the crew of Gwarnon’s ship, along with a few of her mother’s friends from the manor. Even though she knew there was no way Chel or Gwarnon would invite Lady Melissi, Lacey said a prayer of thanks to God for keeping her away from the wedding. Lacey could only imagine how furious the crazy woman was, and how much she would want to destroy Gwarnon if she had the chance.
By this point, she reached her bondmates, and without even thinking about it, she reached out to them, grasping their hands in hers, standing between them before the High Priestess of the Lord of Life.
Lacey’s crystal implant informed her that the woman inspecting her with deep violet eyes and green skin was a Liothian, and that she was both very old and wore her experience like an aura of wisdom. Not that you could tell how old the High Priestess might be, not by looking at her youthful appearing face. It wasn’t until one looked at her hands, which were wrinkled and crooked, that she could guess what her true age was. Instead of hair, like most of the humanoid races she’d seen so far, the High Priestess’s hair appeared to be more like strands of silly string than hair. An odd look, but one that suited her.
A fine tremor ran through the High