I followed suit and we headed back to my Jeep. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I decided that the graffiti color was as pretty as the words were ugly, and that I’d take it in and have the entire car painted sparkling cherry.
As we pulled into the yard, I looked for the best way to park the car so that nobody would see the lettering on the side.
“Why don’t you park it next to my Lexus? Let me out first and then pull up so that there isn’t much space between the two. Then nobody should be able to walk by and notice for now.” She hopped out of the Jeep and I pulled in close to her car, then joined her. I stared at the cake, wondering if I should try to carry it, but then Trillian was at our side and motioned me away.
“I’ll carry it.” He glanced at Camille, then at me. “You two okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” I plastered a smile on my face.
“Because Shamas called and told me what happened. Delilah, we’ll fix your car. And we’ll find who did it, and they will never lift a paint can again.”
Before I—or Camille—could say a word, Trillian was off again, cake in hand, heading toward one of the tents. Oh man. If the guys knew, then we’d have a situation to defuse. But they also knew better than to take matters in hand today.
“Come on.” Camille motioned to me. “Let’s see what needs to be done.”
It was nearly four by the time we found something to do. Nobody else mentioned my Jeep, and so I hoped Trillian had kept his mouth shut. We hustled into the kitchen, which had been dubbed the staging area, and saw the big basket of flowers that had to be attached to the poles on the front of each tent.
Actually, it was more like five tents pulled together to form one giant one with four wings and the central stage. But each wing had its own entrance through which guests could enter and leave, and tables were set up to host the buffet spread we’d be putting out. Bruce had paid for the caterers, thank heavens, because the final bill for the food and booze had come in at more than two thousand dollars. Supes ate more than most FBHs.
We carried the baskets out to the yard and began wrapping the poles of the tents with mirrors of Iris’s bouquet: strings of white tiger lilies, sterling roses in the most heavenly shades of lavender and purple, and long draping tendrils of ivy. Delicate prisms shaped like icicles peeked out from the flower arrangements, catching the silver light reflecting off the clouds.
With the addition of the flowers, the ivory tents suddenly became elegant, dressy, and classic, rather than stark. Balloons in shades of blue, purple, silver, and white with long streamer ribbons hovered near the top of the tents, the helium keeping them aloft. Long tables were covered with starched linen tablecloths and neat stacks of plates and silverware. Within the next few hours, the tables would be filled with chafing dishes and salads and platters of deli meats and cheeses, and—of course—the cake.
Camille and I stood back, eyeing the décor. She burst into a huge smile and clapped. “It’s so beautiful. Iris deserves this and so much more. She’s been through so much, and for so long.”
I let out a long sigh, torn. Iris would still be with us. But she belonged with Bruce now. And she’d be having a baby soon. The little girl in me wanted to reach out, to grab hold of her hands, to say, “Let’s run away and play.”
But the tents were gorgeous, and in a few hours, Iris would have the wedding she’d always hoped for. And all of her friends would be here. As I stood there, looking at the waiting pavilion, my heart lifted and the little girl who had longed for good friends grew up, right before my eyes. I had good friends. I had friends who had become family. Tonight, one of my best friends would achieve her heart’s desire. And we were privileged to stand by her, to witness and participate in her joy.
“It’s been a long past two years since Iris first came to work for me at the Indigo Crescent. And look at where we’re at.” Camille crossed her hands. “I’m married to three men. Menolly’s in a serious relationship, you’re in a serious relationship…life has moved along.”
“That it has,” I said with a smile, thinking of Shade. “That it has.”
While we hadn’t spoken about it yet, Shade and I were exclusive, and would probably remain so—except for my relationship with Hi’ran. In the short time we’d been together, I’d come to rely on my half-dragon lover being there for me. He understood all sides of me—from the tabby within, to the panther, to the half-breed woman. He loved every aspect of me, and I felt it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“Come on.” Camille tucked an arm around my waist as we swung out of the tents. “Let’s go see what else needs to be done.”
And for the first time in a long while, I relaxed and began to enjoy the day.
The candles glistened around the tents, shielded from the wind by cut crystal hurricane lamps. Giving one final look around as the men seated the hundred or so guests who’d shown up, I hurried back inside, into Iris’s room. I was wearing an ivory slip dress of silk and satin, flowing down to my ankles, with a pale blue needlepoint shawl, and satin ivory boots that laced up the front. Menolly was there, dressed just like me, her shawl pinned in the front by a blue topaz brooch. My brooch was pearl.
Camille was wearing her priestess robes—flowing and sheer, patterned with peacock feathers. Beneath them, her embroidered bra and panties peeked through. The cloak of the Black Unicorn was tucked around her shoulders, and she was barefoot, as was the tradition of her order, with a silver circlet around her head.
Hanna was helping Iris dress. The wedding dress caught me off guard. It was spectacular. With a strapless corseted bustline, it hugged her curves to her waist, in shades of pale blue and plum, beaded with faceted crystals from Otherworld that shimmered in the light. The skirt of the dress flowed out, a dream of pale blue satin, over which panels of plum and cobalt tulle blossomed, the netting beaded with more sparkling crystals.
A veil of the same tulle draped over her hair, which cascaded to the ground to form a glowing cloak of liquid gold strands. Her veil was held in place by a crystal tiara, delicate and small but brilliant enough to catch the light and send it prisming into rainbows.
Iris held out her hands and Hanna slid on the robin’s-egg-blue fingerless elbow-length gloves. We stood there, watching our friend dress for her wedding, and all I could think of was how incredibly beautiful she looked. Her eyes were radiant, outlined with kohl, and her cheeks rosy, and the pale peach lip gloss matched her coloring perfectly. The tattoos on her face glimmered, shining with some internal light.
“You are a vision,” I whispered.
“Delilah’s right.” Menolly’s hand fluttered to her heart. “You’re so beautiful. I’m so happy for you.”
Iris ducked her head, but her smile filled the room with light. “Thank you, for being with me. For standing with me. Bruce…”
“Bruce is a lucky man. And he’d better man up and treat you right.” I wanted to sound stern, but my threats were hollow. We knew how much he loved her. We saw it every day. Bruce might never be a warrior, but he’d fight for the woman he loved, the woman carrying his child.
I glanced at the clock. It was time. “Are you ready, Iris?”
Camille leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll meet you out there, babe. I have to go prepare for the ceremony.” She slipped out the door.
Hanna clapped her hands. “Iris, you look so lovely. You are happy, correct?” Her English might be stilted, but her heart was in the right place.
Iris nodded, blushing again. “I’m happy, and for once my morning sickness is taking a break. I’m probably too nervous to throw up.”
“Then, if you’re ready, I guess it’s time.”
After a few last-minute adjustments to her train and veil, I pressed the bouquet of sterling roses, white tiger lilies, and draping ivy into her hands.
“Come on, little mama. Let’s go get you married.”
We headed out of her room, and I glanced back. She and Bruce would continue to use it after they returned from their honeymoon, until their house was built, but soon it would become Hanna’s room. And Maggie would have to get used to Iris not being her primary caregiver. Yes, changes were wonderful, but they weren’t without their heartbreak.
With one last smile at the past, I turned to follow Menolly, Hanna, and Iris out the door, into Iris’s future.
Chapter 9
The crowds were buzzing with chatter as we approached the main tent. Hanna carried an umbrella in one hand, holding it over Iris’s head to ward off any stray raindrops, and with the other, she carried Iris’s train, draped over her arm. Hanna had slid into a quiet, supportive role in the family, taking to Maggie with as much love as the rest of us. And Maggie adored her.
Trenyth, the assistant to Queen Asteria, the Elfin Queen, had brought enough soldiers with him that we didn’t have to worry about guard duty and could all enjoy the wedding. They were scattered throughout our land, keeping an alert eye out for enemies.
As Iris cautiously held up the hem of her dress, making her way through the wet grass, Menolly and I took our places inside the center tent, on the canvas leading up to the central platform where the handfasting ritual would be performed. There, Camille waited, sitting on a cushioned bench that was draped with a silver cloth. Every chair in the tent was filled.
I glanced around. To the left, I saw the Triple Threat. Titania, Aeval, and Morgaine sat in the front row, along with several others from their court. Trenyth sat with them—as an official representative from Queen Asteria’s Court. Next to them sat our extended family, except for my sisters and Smoky.
Behind them were Tim and Jason, along with Chase and Sharah, and several of the other officers from the FH-CSI. And behind them were at least fifty members of the Supe Community, along with several FBHs. Iris was well loved.
On the other side were Bruce’s peeps—a huge contingent of his friends from both the pub where he’d hung out over the years and the university where he was soon to begin a full-time teaching position. He’d subbed off and on for several years and finally they offered him a full professorship. This summer, he’d start as the head of Irish Studies at the University of Washington.
In the front row, in front of Bruce’s friends, sat his family. The O’Shea leprechauns were a handsome family. All twenty of them. Bruce’s father looked to be around fifty, which meant he was extremely old in Fae years. His mother still looked young, so she’d probably married for prestige. But the pair held hands and in their shimmering green outfits looked proud as punch. Three girls sat beside them, all fairly young, but obviously related. The rest were an array of cousins and assorted aunts and uncles.
I caught my breath as the music started. Four elves who had come with Trenyth were playing “The Voice,” by Celtic Woman—two on violins, one on drums, and one—a woman—holding a microphone. They’d spent the past few weeks learning the song. The music reeled and soared as the woman began to sing, her voice echoing through the tents. Smoky stepped forward and turned, waiting. Iris had asked him to give her away, and it only seemed fitting.
As Iris entered the tent and Hanna pulled away the umbrella, the crowd gave a collective gasp as they saw her. She shone in her sparkling princess gown. Cinderella’s fairy godmother couldn’t have done as exquisite a job on choosing a wedding dress. Every move Iris made brought a glimmer to her body from the beads that shimmered as she walked. Her hair flowed to her ankles, floating on the satin that ballooned out, swaying against the underskirts that gave the dress volume.
As she stepped up to Smoky, one tendril of his hair rose and took her by the arm, wrapping securely around her elbow. She gave me a look, both frightened and wistful, and I realized that for her, this was the fulfillment of a lifetime of waiting.
Hanna, dressed in a pale silver sheath, picked up Maggie in one arm, and with the other she held a basket filled with rose petals. She looked at me, and I nodded. Swinging out onto the canvas, Hanna and Maggie slowly walked down the aisle, with Maggie tossing rose petals every which way. An unlikely flower girl, definitely, but Iris had insisted.
As they neared the halfway mark, Menolly and I took our places in front of Iris and Smoky. Shade took my arm, and Trillian took Menolly’s. The music swelled as we began our march down the aisle toward the dais where Camille stood, waiting, looking every inch a priestess.
Behind us, Iris and Smoky waited. As Menolly and I approached the raised platform, we lightly stepped up. Hanna and Maggie had veered off to take their place in the audience. Menolly and I moved to Camille’s right as Shade and Trillian took their places beside Bruce, along with another leprechaun—one of Bruce’s best buddies. His name was Grayson, if I remembered right.
Everyone turned to look at Iris and Smoky as they stood at the back of the tent. Iris was a vision—her beauty cascading off her like her golden tresses. Smoky stood tall and regal, his hair providing the perfect cushion to support her elbow.
The music dipped, then changed to a slow, sinuous beat as Smoky and Iris began the journey to the altar. The singer began a low chant that wove a hypnotic rhythm through the tent as Camille raised her arms, one hand holding a dagger, one a wand. She stood, legs slightly spread, arms reaching to the sky, waiting for them to approach.
The only sound beyond the music was the rustle of Iris’s dress and soft footsteps on the canvas. As Smoky and Iris passed by each row of chairs, the audience stood, a wave rising with their passage. I glanced at Bruce. His eyes were wide, as if he only now realized he was marrying a powerful priestess and not just the love of his life. He caught my gaze and I smiled, which seemed to reassure him.