of ivory and blush pink, accented with pale-green leaves. They flowered over my bosom, throat, and collarbones, then wound down my arms.
My hair, also blossoming with pale orchids, tumbled down my back in a waterfall. Diamond clips held a veil of spider silk lace to the back, with diamond strands draping between.
Sondra handed me my bouquet—an elaborate fall of more orchids, in hundreds of shades—and gave me a wry grin. “Nahua offered me one of Your wigs,” she said, running a hand self-consciously over her cropped golden hair, “but I figure, who are we kidding? Unless You want me to wear one?”
“I think you look wonderful as is,” I told her sincerely. Sondra had put on a dress and heels for me and that was enough. She and Rhéiane wore matching gowns of watered silk that shifted in shades of color from sapphire to ice blue. Simply made, the dresses complimented their tall, lean bodies, high-cut slits showing off long legs and scarves streaming from their shoulders adding drama. My ladies wore gowns in the same style but each in a single jewel-bright shade, and each carried a bouquet of orchids in matching colors.
The blossoms of the Flower Court, with Sondra and Rhéiane as honorary members, stunning in their loveliness—and their hidden thorns.
“Dare I ask if Conrí is ready?” I asked Rhéiane.
She shook her head in exasperation. “If Your Highness means, is he dressed, yes. Is he in position at the altar? No.”
“I know he can’t have cold feet,” I said with a raised brow. Con had wanted to have the ceremony days ago, with the same insistence that he’d wanted a grand event for the history books. I told him he couldn’t have it both ways and he’d agreed, if with ill grace.
“Should we delay, Your Highness?” Calla asked. “I believe everyone is assembled.”
“Let Me see.” I reached out to Vesno—who greeted me joyfully—and saw he was indeed with Con, both of them jogging toward where the ceremony would be on the cliffside. “He’s nearly there now,” I informed them. “Shall we?”
We stepped out of the tent I’d used to dress and into the bright sunshine of Calanthe, the crowd sending up a roar. Everyone who could had traveled to the palace for the ceremony, which worked out well because we were sending them home with wagonloads of supplies for the more distant and destitute corners of the island. Might as well take advantage of their travels. We paused on the apron held clear by sentries. I held on to my bouquet with both hands, but my attendants all waved to acknowledge the cheers. Even Sondra, I noted, followed instructions to smile. I called in clouds of butterflies to swirl around us and land on the bouquets we carried, bringing them alive with more color.
The aisle to the folly on the cliff opened up, and we began a sedate stroll through the calling people. Musicians played, and I encouraged the birds to sing along in harmony, so the melody filled the skies. At the folly, Con slid into place, saying something to the waiting Kara that had the somber man grinning and shaking his head. They, along with Percy, wore midnight blue edged with silver and gold. I’d been surprised that Con wanted Percy to stand up with him, but he’d said it made sense to him. They’d bonded on that journey in some way, and I wouldn’t question it.
As we drew close, I saw that Vesno, sitting at Con’s heel, wore a matching wreath of deep-blue orchids with silver and gold ribbons. It made me laugh, and I wondered who’d thought of it. As I raised my gaze to Con’s, to his dimpled grin as he witnessed my reaction, I knew it had been him. He sobered then, eyes blazing golden as he took me in, his smile turning half wistful as his gaze went to Sondra and Rhéiane, flanking me a step behind. Likely he’d never imagined a day like this.
In all truth, neither had I.
I stepped into the shade of the folly, turning my shoulder to the sea, facing Con. He wore his black hair loose, brushed to a glossy sheen, and the breezes lifted the ends, toying with them playfully. Neither of us wore our crowns. Though this was an affair of state—and an event to be shared with our people, of Calanthe, Oriel, and all the scattered kingdoms—we’d wanted to marry each other as ourselves.
Con held his hands out to me, a challenging glint