“Listen, if Roman sent the limo, you know the driver will be armed to the teeth. And he’ll most likely be a vampire himself. I think we’ll be just as safe as if we drove there ourselves. Probably safer.” And with that, Nerissa and I headed downstairs to change.
* * *
The store was upscale, so much so that the saleswomen looked like models and the clothing was in the back, with only a few high-end pieces leisurely draped over the mannequins that looked way too lifelike. The salon—it was far too pricey to be called a simple store—had overstuffed sofas and chairs for its patrons, and the salesclerk offered Nerissa and the others champagne, and a goblet of blood for me. We all turned her down, and I think she was relieved. The thought of spilling blood on a dress that was obviously costing Roman thousands of dollars made me queasy.
There were four sales associates—Nerissa whispered to me that was what they were called—one assigned to each of us, and a woman who seemed to be directing them all. Her name was Hilde.
All of the women looked tired but were forcing bright smiles and a perkiness that belied their fatigue. I felt bad for them. They had probably worked all day and would have to work tomorrow, and Roman had made sure they weren’t going to have an early night of it. But money talked, and they were here to make what would no doubt be a tidy commission.
“What style of wedding will it be? The . . . gentleman . . . who arranged your fitting said that it’s to be a formal affair. We’ve brought in every red gown we could find, and black . . . for the bridesmaids. I suppose that we should get the brides taken care of first, so we can match the bridesmaids’ dresses.” Hilde looked a little frightened, come to think of it.
“Please relax. We hate putting you to this trouble.” I smiled at her, trying to ease the tension.
“No problem at all, miss. We’ve done vampire weddings before. But thank you. It was rather last minute and I hope we can fix everything to your liking. We have all our seamstresses on hand to fix whatever we can if the dresses need to be altered. Since we don’t sell the same dress twice—all our dresses are original—these won’t be samples so we should be able to find something in your sizes. While they won’t be custom, Lord Roman assured me that would be fine as long as they look elegant.”
I nodded. Roman had, once again, thought of everything. But given how quickly this was being pulled together—especially for a court event—I wondered what else was going on behind the scenes. “The dresses do need to be formal, but to be honest, I’m not particularly that picky. I would prefer my dress to have sleeves, though, and lace up around the neck, if possible. I have . . . scars.” I hated showing others my scars but bit the bullet.
Hilde nodded. “Karen, please take Miss—Menolly, right?—Menolly’s measurements and start pulling dresses. Linda—you take . . .”
“Nerissa. And I just want to make certain I don’t look like a frilly cupcake.” Nerissa smirked. “I honestly don’t look good in orange red, so if you could find a gown with bluish undertones, that would be fantastic.”
“Well, we should be able to find you something that will look stunning. Linda, please take Nerissa’s measurements.” She moved over, directing the other associates to measure Delilah and Camille while we were waiting. A few minutes later, after a bustle and flurry of tape measures, Linda and Karen vanished through an archway.
“I feel like I’m in some surreal movie . . . Night of the Living Brides, or something.” I whispered, keeping my voice low, not wanting to offend Hilde. After all, it wasn’t her fault we were shopping for wedding dresses at one in the morning.
Nerissa stifled a snort. “Brides of the Living Dead?”
Camille and Delilah looked a little dazed, and I realized they were tired. “I’m sorry you had to come. I guess Roman just assumed . . .”
“Roman assumes a lot, but he’s right. We’re going with you to that wedding, and if anybody gets to be your bridesmaids, it’s us. Just promise me that we don’t have to give blood to the groom or anything like that.” Camille leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, and closed her eyes while we waited.
A few minutes later, the associates returned, each trailing a garment rack behind them. Each rack contained several red gowns. The majority were a deep crimson, a few were burgundy, and a few—a fire engine red that almost made my eyes hurt.
Karen pulled one of the dresses off the rack. “This should be your size.” She held it up.
I fell in love with it at first sight. The burgundy would go better with my hair. The dress wasn’t overwhelming—no huge hoop skirts, no Cinderella ball gown. It was a mermaid-style wedding gown, in a rich burgundy brocade, form-fitting over the bust and hips to sweep out as it came to the knees. The train was embellished with detailed tone-on-tone embroidery. The high-necked mandarin collar and cap sleeves were lace—the same burgundy—and the floral patterns embroidered on the train also adorned the gown from the waist up. While it wasn’t long sleeved, it was absolutely exquisite in its simple elegance.
“I didn’t know I could fall in love with a dress.” I hesitantly reached out to run my fingers over the material. “I love this. I could wear this as a ball gown, too.” Because to me, my actual wedding dress would always be the dress my mother wore when she married my father—the one Camille and Delilah had secretly altered for me when I married Nerissa. This dress? While it signified an important event, this dress was one I’d wear a second time, that I wouldn’t want to put in a showcase and keep forever as a memory.
Nerissa nodded her approval. “Mine should match yours in color and a similar style.”
Karen sorted through her dresses, then came out with one. “What about this?”
The dress was another mermaid gown, though one-shouldered, and heavily beaded across the bodice. It was sparkly, where my dress was a satinlike finish, and while it had more bling, Nerissa could pull it off. The floral beaded accents would play off the embroidery on my own, and the colors were close enough not to be jarring. The hem trailed to about the same length mine did, and together, the two looked good.
“I think that will work.” Nerissa stood and examined it. “What do you think?” She turned to me, holding it up to her.
“You’ll look great in it. Okay, we’ll try these on. Meanwhile, go ahead and start finding bridesmaids’ dresses that will work for Delilah and Camille, please.”
Karen and Linda led us back to a large dressing room. As we undressed, I saw them both stare at me for a moment and I knew they were looking at my scars, but neither said a word. They quickly fitted us into the dresses. The only problem was that mine was too long on me.
“That may be a problem given the embroidery on the train. It’s about three inches too long for you. Can you handle heels?” Linda frowned, scrunching up her face.
“I can handle them.” Truth was, I never wore heels that high, but I figured if worse came to worst, I could ask for Camille’s help. And, from my sister’s expertise, I knew that if I found a pair of platform pumps, I could go to four inches without a problem.
“Then you’re sure?” Linda got a playful look on her face. “Are you two saying—”
“Stop! Don’t even ask it.” Nerissa stopped her before I could. “We’ll take them.”
When we were done and back in our clothes, we returned to find that Camille and Delilah had been fitted in simple deep black, A-line mermaid dresses with plunging halter top necklines. With the addition of thin gold belts and simple gold necklaces, the dresses looked elegant; they mimicked the wedding gowns’ styles and yet didn’t overpower either of my sisters. Camille had the cleavage and Delilah had the height to handle the gowns.
“Looks good to me,” I said.
“This has been one of the easiest dress searches I think I’ve ever overseen.” Hilde grinned. “Usually somebody in the wedding party is having histrionics over this dress or that. And we almost always go through a half-doze
n gowns, if not more.”
I could hear the underlying curiosity beneath the words. I decided to give her some gossip for the trouble of pulling her out of her bed in the middle of the night.
“This is going to be a very unusual wedding, Hilde.” I tried to suppress a laugh. “Given that Nerissa here, and I, are already married, and we’re marrying into a royal vampire clan.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? So you are marrying . . .”
“We’re marrying a vampire prince. Together.” I winked at her. Beside me, I could hear Nerissa stifle a snort.
“A prince . . . wait—a prince? Just one?”
I nodded. “Yes, we’re both to be his wives.” And with that, we took our purchases—thoroughly protected by garment bag covers—and returned to the limousine. We kept quiet till we got home and the driver dropped us off. I didn’t want to say anything that could be reported back to Roman and his mother, quite possibly to be taken the wrong way.
“You’re bad, Menolly.” Camille laughed as we trudged up the steps of the front porch. “But you made her night. She’ll have something to talk about, for sure. Did you see the prices on those dresses?”
I shook my head. “I have to admit, I didn’t.”
“I was standing by the woman who was writing up the invoice. Yours was ten thousand, Nerissa’s was twelve . . . and Delilah and I—our gowns were five thousand each.”
Thirty-two thousand dollars’ worth of dresses for one political evening. I didn’t even want to think about what the cost would be if we’d had more time before the wedding. Roman would have insisted on custom work, if that were the case.
“Hey, what about shoes? I need platform heels.” I had nothing of the sort in my closet at home, and Nerissa’s feet were far larger than mine. Camille might have a pair I could wear, but they’d still be big. “I need four-inch heels to manage that dress.”
“I can pick them out for you tomorrow. I know your size and I can find something that will work for one evening.” Camille shrugged. “Underwear?”
“I’ve got underwear, and I’m not buying special panties just for Roman. This is a political assignation, not a love-based union. We’re not spending the night with him in the honeymoon suite.” I drew the line there. Besides, the wedding itself would involve a blood bond, I knew that much, and that was considered more binding than sex among vampires.
As we entered the living room, it was apparent the guys weren’t about to go to bed without us. They were all there, fueling up on cookies and chips.
“What’s this about panties and honeymoons?” Roz winked at me.
“Oh, go buy a pair of panties for yourself. None of your business.” I held up the hanger that my dress was on. “We just bought thirty-two thousand dollars’ worth of dresses. Is Hanna still awake? I want to put these someplace safe from Maggie and anything else that might mess them up.”
Trillian shook his head. “No, she went to bed an hour ago. I’d say put them in the parlor, but Darynal is fast asleep in there. He’s exhausted.”
“Here, I’ll take them for you.” Before any of us could say a word, Smoky was up and collecting the garment bags. “I’ll put them up in the spare closet in the hallway on the second floor. There’s nothing much in there, I believe.”
As he headed up the stairs, dresses in hand, I turned back to Trillian. “How is Darynal doing?”
“He went through a lot of hell down there in the Southern Wastes. He’s sleeping a lot, eating a lot, and not too talkative yet. I’ve tried to find out what happened while he was down there, and he’s fine for a while but then just lapses into silence. I’m not certain, but I think he was captured by a goblin group and quite possibly tortured. They have a way of playing rough with their victims.” His eyes clouded over, but then he shook his head. “I told him he’s welcome to stay here as long as possible. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to return to Otherworld.”
“That’s fine.” Camille glanced at the parlor door. “I know what PTSD is like. I still have nightmares of Hyto, and sometimes . . . flashbacks.” She bit her lip but then shrugged it away. “But I’m working on it.”
“I think we all have nightmares of when Hyto kidnapped you,” I said, my voice soft. “I know that—even though he’s dead—I still dream of Dredge now and again. I think we’ll always carry this crap with us, even when we have dealt with it. There’s no way you can unmake a part of your life.”
Camille sighed. “No, there isn’t. And you can let go of trauma, but the wound it leaves—there’s always going to be some sort of scar tissue there to remind you.”
The clock chimed. It was four A.M.
“You guys go to bed. I’ll be headed there in a little over an hour. But you all need to sleep. Hell, Nerissa, you have to work tomorrow. Can you get off early to get ready for the wedding? You could have all my stuff laid out so that all I have to do is dress.” I wheedled her, leaning up to kiss her cheek.
“Oh stop it, of course I’ll do that for you. And I’ll just call in early, tell Chase I need the day off. I’ve built up enough of them over the past few months, that’s for certain.” As everybody else started to traipse off to bed, Vanzir opted to stay with me in the living room.
When we were alone, he sprawled on the sofa. “So, I’m going to be a father.” His voice was shaky and I suddenly realized how little attention any of us had really paid to the effect the announcement was having on him.
“How do you feel about that?” I could see he was nervous, and maybe—maybe even a little scared.
“What kind of father am I going to make? I’m a daemon. I was a slave, several times over. I have very few morals other than knowing that the biggest bad is the one we don’t want.” He shrugged. “What am I supposed to think? Aeval is choosing to have the child and I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“Has she told you why she decided to have the child? I would think it’s a big deal for a Fae queen to . . .” I almost said breed but then thought I might offend Vanzir.
But he caught my nuance. “Breed with a demon? Yah, a fucking big deal. And even bigger once they find out I’m no demon prince or prize catch. I haven’t got anything to offer a kid. I don’t have anything to offer Aeval, really. I don’t know why . . .” He paused, then cocked his head, flashing me a sly look. “What made you choose someone so different from you? Someone who really doesn’t share your nature?”
“You mean Nerissa? Maybe . . . maybe just because I fell in love. Maybe because something about her . . . I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And when I finally admitted it to myself, I realized that I had opened my heart up. Who knows why Aeval chose you, but choose you she did and now you’re going to be parents together. I’d get used to the idea, if I were you, and quit trying to reason out why.”
He let out a long sigh and leaned back, covering his eyes with his arm. “I don’t want to be in love. And damn it, why did I have to fall for a queen? This is ridiculous. I don’t deserve . . .”
His little slip caught my attention immediately. I pushed his feet off the sofa, forcing him to sit up, and then sat down beside him.
“Listen to me, Vanzir. You are no longer a slave. To anyone. You’re no one’s possession.” I hesitated but then decided what the hell, and pressed my hand to his chest. I could feel his heart beat. Could sense it, really, even though it beat at a different rhythm than humans or Fae.
“What’s in there . . . what’s in your soul . . . it isn’t dictated by your birth. It’s not dictated by how you were treated when you were growing up. Oh, we always carry things around with us, but you’ve come so far since we first met you. You matter to my sisters and me. So don’t you ever let me hear you say you don’t deserve love. Or happiness. Because, dude, you do.”
He took my hand in his, holding it tightly as he stared at the floor. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid I won’t know how to love a child or
treat my kid the way she . . . deserves. I’m afraid of failing.”
“Look at Chase. He was terrified. His father abandoned him. He’s spent his life trying to make bad things better, and I think that part of that’s due to his childhood. But when Sharah had to return to Otherworld, you know how frightened he was.”
Chase had been furious over being shunted into single parenthood. Finally, we managed to help him understand that Sharah’s duty to her race was stronger than her duty to family. And we helped him step up to the gate and take the reins.
“Yeah, I know that. But . . . I guess . . . what if I drop the kid? Or hurt it somehow?”
I laughed, letting go of his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. “I think all parents are probably afraid they’re going to kill their children. It’s an innate fear. I’m sure Aeval will have nannies and governesses or whatever they call babysitters out there. And you’ll make mistakes—so will she. Every parent makes mistakes. But most kids live to adulthood. And no matter how bad you screw them up, trust me . . . I’m pretty sure you’ll do your best to make sure their childhood is nothing like yours was. Am I right?”
He smiled at that, then shrugged. “Yeah. But I draw the line at wearing knee breeches or whatever the Fae nobility wear.”
“You’ll teach your child to listen to punk rock and wear ripped jeans.” I glanced at the clock. “I’d better get downstairs. Sunrise will be along in an hour.”
He nodded. “I’m heading back to the studio for the night. Menolly . . . thanks.” And before I realized what he was doing, he darted in for a quick hug, then dashed away. As the door closed, I stared at it, thinking that Delilah was right. Everything was changing. Nothing would ever be the same. And right now, that felt like a good thing, even if it was a little sad.
I wandered into the kitchen and saw that Hanna had left a bit of washing up to do for morning. I still had about an hour, so I scrubbed a few pots and pans, then dried the dishes and put them away. I glanced around the empty room. Before long, this house would be a whole lot emptier. The giant oak table Smoky had bought would be far too big except for holidays.
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