The news of the "True Proposal" hit the Aldenar Stronghold like a summer thunderstorm in the middle of a blizzard, sudden, electric, and utterly transformative. By the time the sun had fully cleared the eastern peaks the morning after Elric's birthday, there wasn't a single servant, soldier, or stable hand who didn't know that the Duke and Duchess were planning a second, "real" wedding.
"I told you!" Isella's voice echoed through the solar, sharp with triumph. She was currently pacing in front of a massive oak table covered in parchment, charcoal sketches, and fabric swatches. "I told everyone that the first ceremony in that drafty carriage didn't count! How can you be married if there isn't a three-day feast and at least one mountain-lion hunt?"
Verona sat in a high-backed chair by the window, sipping a cup of herbal tea. She looked exhausted but radiantly happy, her emerald eyes tracking the way the morning light caught the new ring on Elric's hand.
