Page 98 of Consort's Glory
Theodore gawked at her. “Why in Glory’s name would we invite him to our wedding?”
Elves didn’t even do weddings. He planned on inviting Kaz, and that was only because Margot explained the need for two witnesses — one for the bride and one for the groom.
“Because shifters are all about family events,” Margot patiently explained. “Huge dinners. Birthdays. Mating celebrations and anniversaries and graduations. Inviting him to be a witness at our wedding will be a display of trust that he’ll understand immediately.” She paused, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Besides… he’s the only friend I have in the city. It’d mean a lot to me if he was my witness.”
It occurred to him that perhaps this thing that meant very little to him meant something much greater to her. Was Margot sacrificing a dream for him? An uncomfortable twisting sensation took up residence in his chest.
“Darling,” he began, searching her expression with mounting dread, “this wedding… Is this what you really want to do? I didn’t stop to think that maybe this wasn’t what you had in mind when you imagined getting married someday.”
Surprise flashed through their bond, quickly followed by a heady rush of pure, golden tenderness. Margot offered him a heartbreaking smile when she answered, “Baby, I’m just happy it’s you. I don’t care how or when we do it. Truly.”
Just like that, the terrible twisting guilt evaporated. In its place, a swarm of butterflies filled his stomach, each one a longing fulfilled. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice thick.
“Yeah.” Her grin widened. “Besides, once Grandma’s temper dies down, I’m sure we’ll have a massive Goode wedding to make up for it.”
It was Theodore’s turn to wince. “Oh, but that doesn’t sound—”
“Poor baby,” she crooned, wiggling her bread-thing at him sympathetically, “you only just realized what you got yourself into, didn’t you?”
* * *
Obviously, no one at Glory’s Saint Emaine Cathedral, the main place of worship in the city, expected the sovereign to show up with a retinue of grim-faced, black-clad guards, an orc, and a witch. Margot almost felt sorry for the poor man at the desk currently sweating bullets as he struggled to dial a number on the intercom again and again.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, his round gut pushing against the brilliant scarlet and gold robes of his Gloriae uniform. “We didn’t expect— Her Grace is visiting from out of town and has been busy trying to get an audience with—” The acolyte cut himself off, his eyes bulging as he realized exactly who this visiting priestess must have been hard at working trying to get an audience with.
For his part, Theodore’s bland expression didn’t so much as twitch. Despite the amusement she could feel flowing through their bond, his arm was steady under her hand, his eyes half-mast as they took in the sweating acolyte with disinterest.
Standing in front of a man who looked like he might pass out at any moment, Margot felt her pre-wedding nerves melting away. “It’s all right,” she soothed, “we can wait a moment.”
“No, no,” he wheezed. Pushing his rolling chair away from his desk, the squat man ran a shaking hand over his balding head and backed away, towards a door that presumably led to a private wing of the Cathedral’s complex. “I’m just— I’ll go find her now. It will only be a second. I’ll find her!”
The acolyte was gone in a flash of scarlet, the door opening and slamming shut with a rattle.
Margot made a small sound of concern in the back of her throat. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”
Theodore shrugged. The end of his cape, part of the traditional elvish finery his brother brought with him when he met them at the apartment, tickled the back of her bare calf. “As long as he doesn’t have a heart attack while he’s looking, sure.”
She pinched his forearm. “That’s not funny!”
Kaz’s voice was a low, sensual rumble from behind them. “My bet is he pissed his pants as soon as the door closed. He’ll have to stop to get a new pair before he comes back, so it might take a while.”
This time, neither Margot nor Theodore could stifle their snorts. Peering around Theodore’s shoulder, she gave her future-brother-in-law a speculative look. “Do you think it’s Theodore or you that really put the fear of Grim in him?”
Personally, she didn’t think Kaz looked scary at all. Or, if he did, it was in the good, deliciously rakish sort of way.
Kaz didn’t wear elvish regalia like Theodore, but he still dressed up for the occasion: his powerful, jewel green frame was swathed in a black on black suit, his long black hair tied in a high ponytail, and he’d even gone so far as to swipe traditional orcish kohl around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. With his pouty face and wide-legged stance, he looked like he just stepped off of a runway.
Kaz leveled his dark, kohl-rimmed eyes on her. “Funny that you didn’t put yourself in there. Don’t think you’re scary enough to send an acolyte running?”
“Me?” She waved her free hand. “I’m not scary at all.”
A laugh bubbled out of Theodore — a real, hearty belly laugh — as Kaz dryly replied, “Sister-mine, in three days you’ve managed to not only survive a bombing and a swift trip out of a moving car, but you’ve successfully bamboozled the sovereign into standing for a human wedding.” He arched a dark, perfectly-shaped brow. “Also, didn’t I hear something about you being able to stop a heart with a fingertip a while ago?”
Margot flushed scarlet and hastily turned away, muttering, “Yeah, but he doesn’t know any of that.”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Theodore interjected, patting the hand tucked protectively into the crook of his elbow. “He’s just jealous. Kaz would love to find a consort even half as fierce as my beautiful, genius halfling.”
Kaz grunted.
