“Yes,” Gemma agreed, sitting down when the priest motioned for the congregation to be seated.
Gemma and Grandmother Guri were separated from the crowd, seated in chairs of honor near the base of the dais rather than the pews. Since Stil’s public vow, Gemma had become something of a local legend, known as the girl who brought about King Torgen’s demise.
Lady Linnea used the excuse to give Gemma special treatment, but truth be told, Gemma wished everyone wouldn’t treat her so reverently. She missed haggling with the merchants—who would now give her whatever price she asked for cloth—and holding dislikable people, like Malfrid and Mrs. Hagen, in distaste. (Mrs. Hagen hadn’t dared to criticize her chosen occupation since her return to Ostfold society, and Malfrid immediately married a farmer and moved away when the dust settled from Gemma’s adventures.)
But most of all, she missed Stil.
She wished she could talk to him about fine craftsmanship and show him her work on Lady Linnea’s wedding dress. She missed his handsome smiles and even his stupid, wretched, question game.
“We are gathered here today for a beautiful event and occasion: the wedding of our monarch, King Toril, to the honorable Lady Linnea Lovland,” the priest said when the cathedral had quieted enough that his squeaky voice could be heard.
His declaration brought about more cheers, and he was unable to continue as the civilians whistled and rejoiced.
The priest bore it well, smiling and folding his hands as he waited.
Before this winter, we have had precious little to celebrate, Gemma thought as she, too, clapped. But it is different now.
“Verglas is coming back, my girl,” Grandmother Guri said, her voice just above a whisper.
“Why do you say that?” Gemma asked.
“You can feel it in the air. It’s crisp and clean—finally. People smile more—which is a scary sight in some cases. No one fears to stick out anymore, and there’s laughter. Yep, everything is right again. And your lady up there will make sure bumpkin keeps it that way,” Grandmother Guri nodded.
If anyone deserved to call Toril bumpkin, it was Grandmother Guri. When the young king called on Gemma to ask for advice about Lady Linnea, Grandmother Guri had smacked the monarch upside the head a number of times when he was particularly slow to understand a point about the battle-crazed lady.
“So, that means you can finally leave with that mage of yours,” Grandmother Guri added.
Gemma gaped at the elderly woman. The fact that they were witnessing the marriage of their monarch and Gemma’s close companion was forgotten. “What are you talking about?” Gemma hissed.
“You’re sighing all the time and looking off into space like Jo-Jo when she’s about to urp up her cud. You miss your mage, and that’s fine. Now things have settled here; you’ve got your barbaric lady taken care of, and there’s nothing left for you to do. You can go,” Grandmother Guri whispered.
“How did you…?”
“My girl, all of Ostfold was treated to a public performance of your love with that man. You can’t think I didn’t know—that everyone in town doesn’t know.”
Gemma adjusted her posture in her chair and fixed her gaze on Lady Linnea and King Toril, ignoring the astute observations of Grandmother Guri.
Within a few minutes, the ceremony was over.
“On behalf of this country—civilians and nobility—it is with great joy that I announce the marriage of our King Toril to Lady Linnea!” the priest said. Even he could not contain his enthusiasm as he raised his hands in the air.
Church bells clanged, and everyone in the cathedral roared so much the floor vibrated. The citizens who could not cram their way into the church with the nobles cheered outside. When the doors opened up, Gemma could see that they threw rice and flower petals.
King Toril and Lady Linnea—soon to be Queen Linnea once the royal couple arrived at the palace for her crowning—swept down the aisle. Their faces were bright with happiness, and they laughed and clasped hands as they emerged from the cathedral and into the street.
Verglas had good, valiant monarchs once again.
“Thank you so much for making my dress, Gemma,” Queen Linnea said, embracing Gemma when she caught her sneaking towards a table of drinks.
“It was my pleasure, My Lady,” Gemma smiled.
Queen Linnea beamed and glanced over her shoulder at King Toril, who was seated at their table, laughing with one of his advisors.
The wedding feast was barely halfway over, and everyone was still exuberant and filled with joy and laughter. Well-wishers were lined up out the door, hoping to congratulate their king and new queen.
“I know I asked you right after I agreed to marry him, but, what do you think of Toril?” Queen Linnea asked, shyly looking at Gemma from under her eyelashes.
“I think he’s a gallant gentleman who loves you very much, and I know the two of you will be wonderful rulers,” Gemma said.
“Do you really think so?” Queen Linnea asked.