“Oh, you look stunning,” Tildy said with a happy sigh. She and Cyra were standing nearby—they, along with Lyria, had primped and pampered Dareena all morning as they readied her for the big day along with a bevy of maids. Their dresses, the gold and red royal colors of Dragonfell, were ready and waiting for them to slip into, and their hair and makeup were already done.
“The princes will have a hard time keeping their hands off you,” Cyra teased. She came up and fussed with a section of Dareena’s train, which was so long it would take four attendants to carry. Luckily, it was detachable.
“I have been to a few weddings,” Lyria said, her eyes gleaming, “but I have never laid eyes upon a bride so fine. You will be the talk of the kingdom for many months to come.”
That drew a grin out of Dareena. “Why, Lyria,” she said, placing a hand on her lady-in-waiting’s arm, “that might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Lyria smirked. “Well, it is your wedding day. I do have some sense of propriety.”
Her ladies were about finished getting ready when someone knocked at the door.
“Are you ready, Lady Dareena?” Lord Renflaw called through the door.
“One moment,” Cyra cried. She checked her dress one last time, then hurried to the door. “She is ready, my lord,” Cyra said, curtsying.
“She can also speak for herself,” Dareena said, amused. She looked Lord Renflaw up and down; he wore a fine tunic of deep blue that likely cost ten years of her previous salary. “You look quite handsome, my lord.”
“Why, thank you.” Lord Renflaw chuckled. “But I am afraid no one will notice me at all as long as I am standing next to you. That is a truly magnificent dress.”
Dareena took Lord Renflaw’s outstretched hand and allowed him to escort her downstairs. At the buzz of conversation coming from the throne room, her stomach tightened with nerves again at the thought of going through all of this in front of so many people.
“Come now, Lady Dareena,” Cyra chided, sensing Dareena’s mood. “You have tamed three dragon princes, learned how to wield magic, negotiated a peace treaty, and made friends with the most intimidating woman in Hallowdale. This is nothing compared to that.”
Dareena laughed.
Lyria rolled her eyes. “If I were all that intimidating, you wouldn’t dare say such flippant things in my presence, Cyra.”
Cyra stuck out her tongue. “Someone has to challenge you on a regular basis or you will begin to think that you are in charge all over again.”
Dareena exchanged a glance with Tildy, who looked both exasperated and amused.
“If the nobles could hear us, they would be appalled,” Tildy said. “We are going to a wedding, ladies, not a ball.”
Their mood instantly sobered as they reached the doors. Dareena swallowed hard as they opened, and instantly, the gallery quieted. Music began to play, and Dareena stood frozen, staring at the packed hall. There were so many people…
Lord Renflaw squeezed her arm gently, then took the first step. Dareena followed his lead, looking straight ahead. Her anxiety fell away at the sight of her three princes, soon to be kings, standing at the base of the dais. Rofana was there as well, smiling, but Dareena barely noticed, too caught up in looking at her mates. They looked gloriously handsome in their royal tunics, and the red capes around their shoulders, trimmed in ermine, made them look even more imposing and regal. All three of them smiled at her, and her heart swelled at being the center of their affection.
She knew not everyone in the kingdom would accept them. There would always be whispers about their union, no matter that the dragon god had blessed it. But so long as the four of them were together, none of that mattered.
As she drew close to the dais, she noticed Gilma standing up front with Basilla and the rest of Elvenhame’s royal family. She smiled at her old friend, who had tears in her milky eyes, and briefly stopped to grasp her hand and let her know that she was there. She smiled at Basilla as well, then across the aisle where Tariana and her sisters stood proudly, wearing their dress uniforms. Just behind them, the high priest and the council head from Shadowhaven stood, along with the rest of their delegation. The trial and execution were over and done, and though there was plenty of unrest in their kingdom, they had still come to pay their respects, much to Dareena’s delight.
Lord Renflaw gently nudged her along, and in three more steps, Dareena stood with her dragons. As rehearsed, they lined up in a row in front of Rofana, clasping hands.
The music gradually died away, and a hush fell over the hall.
“Lords and Ladies,” the oracle called, raising her hands. “We are gathered here today to join not two but four souls in holy matrimony.” Her rich, feminine voice echoed in the large chamber. “As we pass from an old age into a new one, we must learn to embrace change. The dragon god smiles upon us now, and we shall smile with him as we bring his vision to fruition.”
The ceremony was short and sweet, but beautiful. Dareena had gone through pages and pages of past ceremonies, but many of them were impossible to adapt to their situation, so she and the oracle had written an entirely new one.
“With the dragon god’s blessing, we now join the four of you as one,” the oracle said. “Please, exchange your rings now, and join hands.”
Dareena took the gold rings that Cyra handed her and placed them on each prince’s hand. Drystan in turn took the gold and diamond band from his pocket and gently slid it onto her finger. As the four of them joined hands, a current of power rippled through their circle. Dareena knew the others felt it too—they each had the same startled look in their eyes.
“Repeat after me,” the oracle said, “and remember, the words you speak today shall bind the four of you from the first day of your union throughout all eternity, long after you have passed. Do you agree?”
Dareena gripped her mates’ hands tighter.
“I do,” they said as one.
The oracle smiled, then read the vow, which they repeated together.
“In the name of Drogar, the god who cradles us against his breast of fire and protects us in our time of need, by the life that courses within my blood, the love that resides within my heart, and the steadfast devotion that consumes me, I take thee to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire thee, to love thee, and to both possess and be possessed by thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely, to stand by thee in times of both trouble and joy, and to, above all else, have faith in that which we have created and will create together.”
“Very well,” the oracle said. “You may now seal your vow with a kiss.”
Dareena and her mates exchanged foolish grins at that. They released hands, and Dareena came up to each in turn, leaning on tiptoe to press a brief but heartfelt kiss to each of their lips. As she kissed Alistair last, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her. Gasps echoed from the crowd, and Alistair and Dareena looked to see that a golden dome of light had surrounded all of them.