Chapter 209: Like a Wedding Between You and Me
He was about to say something, but she had already turned her gaze to the groom, who was now waving to the crowd with his bride.
The elven miss... she did not like to be at a disadvantage. She raised a slender finger and pointed at the man in the black suit. "Then," she said, with the air of a shrewd negotiator, "you will have to wear that."
He followed her gaze and saw the groom's well-tailored black suit. He looked at her, at the serious expression on her face, and a new, and much more... intimate, thought came to his mind. He leaned in close, his breath a warm whisper by her ear, and in a voice that only she could hear, he said, "So, I will wear that, and you will wear this. And then... wouldn't it be like a wedding between you and me?"
BOOM—!
His words were a lightning strike, a thunderclap in the quiet stillness of her mind.
All of her thoughts, all of her rational analysis, all of her well-reasoned arguments... they all just... vanished.
A wedding?
Her and him?
The thought, it was a spell of an unimaginable power, a spell that shattered all of her defenses.
She had only been trying to be fair, to not be the only one to be put in an awkward situation. She had not considered the deeper meaning of the two outfits, together. His casual, teasing words... they had struck a chord in a part of her heart that she had not even known existed.
A wave of an indescribable panic, mixed with a profound and overwhelming shyness, and something else, a deep and burning heat, now washed over her, from the very tips of her toes to the top of her head.
Her face was hot, so hot, and the heat was now spreading to her ears, to her neck... She quickly looked down, trying to hide her blushing face behind a curtain of her golden hair, but her own, now ragged, breathing betrayed her.
He watched her, and though her face was hidden, he could see it, the tell-tale pink blush that was now creeping up her neck, her ears... It seemed he was one step closer to his goal.
The little Grand Master, the one who did not understand love, was now beginning to learn.
She tried to regain control, to push down the tumultuous emotions that were now churning within her, to maintain her usual cool and collected composure. But it was useless. She could feel his gaze on her, a teasing, knowing gaze, a gaze that was more inescapable than any spell.
The sounds of the wedding, the cheers of the crowd, they all just... faded away. The world was now just the two of them.
After a long time, so long that the newlyweds were now in their carriage, beginning their parade through the city, so long that the flower petals that were now being thrown had begun to land on her shoulders, she finally managed to suppress the wave of a mortifying shyness.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look up. The blush had not yet faded, but she tried to keep her gaze a level and steady one. But he was still looking at her, and his gaze was so... gentle.
Her heart began to race once more.
She looked at him, at his dark eyes that were now reflecting her own, flustered, self, and a single, clear thought came to her mind: Did he... mean it?
"Are you serious?" she asked, her voice a soft and quiet sound, a sound that was almost lost in the din of the crowd.
But he heard it.
And the smile on his face faded, replaced by a new and unfamiliar seriousness.
He did not answer her right away. He just looked at her, and in his eyes, she could see only herself. The world was now just this one elf, this one who had been by his side for a thousand years, this one for whom he had made all the exceptions, this one who was now, finally, beginning to understand love.
Time, once again, seemed to stand still.
Her heart was now pounding so hard she thought it would stop, and she waited for his answer.
And finally, he moved.
He did not speak, but he reached out and, from her long, golden hair, he plucked a single, white flower petal. His fingers brushed against her still-burning earlobe, and then, he leaned in close to her ear and said, "If you want, Serie. Anytime."
Not a 'yes', not a 'no'. But... "if you want."
The choice... it was now hers.
She was taken aback, and then, a wave of a pure and unadulterated joy washed over her, drowning out all the tension, all the shyness.
If I want?
A bright and brilliant smile, a smile she could not control, now spread across her face.
And she felt it then, his arm, which had, at some point, wrapped around her waist. But she did not pull away. She even leaned in, a little closer.
The wedding parade passed them by, and the cheers and the blessings of the crowd washed over them, but they were in their own, quiet world. There were no words between them. A thousand years of companionship... it was more than any words could ever say.
They stood like that for a long, long time, so long that the parade had ended, and the carriage had returned to the chapel.
And now, according to the customs of a human wedding, an important event was about to begin. The bride would turn her back to the crowd and throw her bouquet. And it was said that whoever caught it would be the next to find happiness.
The crowd surged forward, a wave of an excited anticipation.
"What are they doing?" she asked, and lifted her head from his shoulder. She had already given her blessings. Why were they all so excited now? Was it another strange ritual?
"She's going to throw her bouquet," he explained. "It's a custom. They say that whoever catches it will be the next to find happiness. It's a... a kind of a blessing, I suppose."
She raised an eyebrow. Happiness? Such a vague and ethereal thing... and it could be decided by a bunch of flowers? She didn't believe it. But... the pure, unadulterated hope and excitement on their faces... she said nothing.
On the chapel steps, the bride took a deep breath and, with a smile, she raised her bouquet high. And the cheers of the crowd reached a crescendo.
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