We passed through the corridor into the royal wing where the servants already began whispering and scattering. Fiona appeared from the shadows near the war room.
"Did I hear that correctly?" she asked, eyes wide with uncharacteristic surprise. "You're marrying Kieran?"
"The court demanded stability," I said. "So I'm giving them a bond they can't twist."
She grinned slowly. "Well. Then I suppose we have a wedding to plan."
Later that day, preparations began.
The great hall was cleared. Seamstresses were summoned. Tailors, florists, musicians—all rushing into the palace like a wave breaking over a dam. The royal decorators pulled out old designs for Moon Ceremonies, brushing off ancient scripts and rites that had not been performed in centuries.
Kieran looked wildly out of place in all of it. He stood like a soldier in the center of chaos, arms crossed, frowning as attendants tried to measure his shoulders and discuss silver embroidery.
