After giving them both kisses on the cheek, I hurried out of my office and turned down the spiral staircase of the west wing, toward the bride’s rooms. My fingers trailed over the decorations of beautiful white and gold wildflowers tied with ribbons and ivy hanging from the stone walls. It reminded me of the gardenia flowers that had hung from the walls when Zach had first arrived in Myria.
I knocked softly on the door and a shaky, “Come in,” sounded in response.
I stepped in and shut the door behind me, turning to admire Minnow in all her beauty. She wore a pale yellow dress with fine lace trim and a sheer silk veil rimmed with a crown of yellow wildflowers. Her golden hair hung in curls with intricate braids entwined in white ribbons.
A maid stood next to Minnow, adjusting the trail of her wedding gown and veil, while Matilda, dressed in a beautiful light blue dress, sat on the edge of the bed sipping a glass of gingerberry wine. She gave me a disapproving eye roll. “At last, the queen graces us with her presence.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said, shooting Minnow an apologetic smile.
It wasn’t two minutes before the maid descended upon me. She unwound my thick hair from my usual tight bun and pulled a few strands back, entwining them with light blue ribbons while I sat still and admired Minnow.
She was indeed a beautiful bride. Her mother had made the dress, insisting on the color yellow. When I’d asked her why the dress would not be in Romantica white, she replied, “Seems to me the color of Love is gold, isn’t it? Besides, my Minnow looks lovely in yellow.”
I couldn’t argue with her there.
“Oh, Minnow,” I breathed, “you’re breathtaking. Roland won’t know what to do with himself.”
Minnow beamed, practically glowing as bright as the sun in all that yellow. “I hope so. I adore telling him what to do.”
We were so busy laughing, we didn’t even hear the knocking until the door clicked and swung open. My friends’ laughter faded, and I turned to see who’d come in.
Mother.
While everyone else chose soft, gentle colors for the wedding, my mother wore her usual dark, striking fabrics. Her hair was wound up tightly on her head, and jewels glittered around her neck.
Queen Dahlia strode into the room and stopped just in front of me. There was a time not long ago when I would’ve flinched when she got so close. Not anymore. Things had changed.
Her dark eyes were fixed on me. “May I have a word, Ivy?”
I could guess what she wanted to talk about. The letter to the Council of Raed would’ve included her battle strategy for the goblin hordes escaping from the Fields of Galliore into the eastern forests. It was always something having to do with the war, but that was okay. If this was the way we could understand each other, as warriors, I was fine with that.
When my mother had heard our story of the Hydra Curse and the truth about Myriana’s heart, she had said very little to me. But over the course of a year, she began to slowly change.
She attended all of my battle strategy meetings and ripped them apart mercilessly, but then stayed with me for hours afterward poring over maps, discussing tactics. I didn’t try to get more from her than that. I’d defeated the dragon and Evil Queen, done everything that I’d hoped would get her to say she was proud of me—and maybe she was, somewhere deep down, but she saw no need to tell me.
And I saw no need to ask.
It was enough to have her presence night after night, working with me, next to me.
“Of course, Your Highness,” I said with a nod, then turned to Minnow. Kissing my friend on both cheeks, I wished her luck, and left with my mother.
We walked in silence for a while, before I finally grew impatient. “If it’s about the letter to Raed, I’m almost done with it. I can send it tomorrow.”
My mother paused, pursed her red lips, and glanced out the window. “No, Ivy, it’s not about the letter.” She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out a white velvet box, covered in black ink fingerprints.
My hands trembled as I took it from her. It was the box in one of my saddest, loneliest memories—I’d recognize it anywhere, even fifteen years later. I opened the box and stared at the simple but beautiful silver band.
When I did nothing but stare at it, Mother plucked it out of the box and slid it onto my ring finger. “It fits,” she said softly.
“What is this, mother?”
“Someone…someone very dear to me gave me that. It was a symbol of…of how much he cared for me.”
Even though she wasn’t saying it in words, I understood what this ring was. After working with the Romantica for three years, I knew a wedding band when I saw one. “But”—I swallowed—“why are you giving it to me?”
“Because…” Mother took a deep, shuddering breath. “Because you gave me back what it meant. And that…is far more precious than a band of silver.”
I covered the ring with my other hand, my eyes stinging.
“Everything I’ve ever done was to protect myself. I am a selfish woman, Ivy Myriana, and I’m sure you know that. I had no desire to feel the pain of losing someone I…someone close to me ever again.”
If there was one thing I understood about Love now, it was that it didn’t make sense. If my mother had tried to protect herself from losing someone else she loved to the Forces by constantly pushing me, critiquing me, yelling at me, and distancing herself from me…I couldn’t blame her for that.
Nor had I ever.
“I understand,” I said.
Dahlia turned and started walking down the corridor, back the way we’d come. “Don’t forget to change your dress. You can’t attend a wedding with ink all over you.”
I glanced down and grimaced at the ink splotches courtesy of Tania.
My new chambers were four times as big as my previous one, with an extra room where I “received” guests. I’d known it was going to be more extravagant when I’d been given the title of Queen, but I hadn’t expected all the extra space. Zach had refused the title of King—a Romantica through and through—so he still resided in a smaller room, though it hardly mattered. He spent most of his time in my chambers anyway.
I entered my rooms to find Zach standing in front of my full-length mirror, tugging on his shirt cuffs.
“—Will you…no, no.” Zach sighed and scratched the back of his head, grumbling something.
Then he took another deep breath and said, “Ivy, will you do me the honor of…” He ran his hands down his face and groaned. “Ivy, will you—”
“Will I what?” I asked.
“Troll’s breath!” Zach jumped, turning so quickly he knocked over a vase filled with gardenias that Tania had picked for me yesterday. Being the legendary swordsman he was, he caught the vase, but the water and flowers spilled everywhere.
I walked over, stifling a few giggles, and bent to help him pick up the flowers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I thought you’d already gotten ready,” he said, avoiding my gaze as he gathered up the extraneous petals. Zach’s face was a brilliant shade of red—like a strawberry.
Maybe it was the idea of him and strawberries, or maybe it was the scent of gardenias, so reminiscent of the day he first came to Myria, but before I could stop myself, I grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him. It was rougher than I planned, and he hadn’t been expecting it, so we both fell backward, Zach’s back planted firmly against the mirror.
Though he’d been surprised, he quickly caught up. His lips and breath and hands moved in a familiar rhythm that made my head dizzy. My hands traveled from the collar of his shirt to his broad shoulders, and my pulse climbed when his hands on my thighs moved upward to rest on my hips. Our kiss lasted a few moments longer before Zach pulled away—or as much as he could. His head was still against the mirror.
“What brought that on?” he asked, removing my hands from his shoulders and squeezing.
“I don’t need a reason.” I smiled. “But if you must know—I haven’t a clue.”
Zach grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I can live with that.”
“But it’s probably because I love you,” I said, momentarily reveling in the rush I got whenever I used those words.
Zach’s smile faltered, and his expression was a little more serious than moments before.