A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XIX. Put It On My Tab

Eris

Sometimes I hate this damn court. The fire within my body takes the ice as a challenge, sizzling and boiling with unrest beneath my skin.
And I don't really have anything to discuss with Kalias. Winter Court doesn't have much business with anyone else apart from his extroverted wife who keeps him from positively sealing his borders and never speaking to another court again. And Winter doesn't have much trade value beyond their blooming textile merchants.
However, I did take the liberty of lining up a wedding dress appointment for Nephele with one of mother's favorite designers. I figured it better to get it picked out and altered a week in advance before her mother can insist she wear something hideous.
The Winter Court was full of peculiar customs, one of which being the use of massive white bears in the place of horses. Kalias had loaned us one to use during our stay. Nephele gushes over the creature the second we walk into the stables.
"Mother above," she swears, scratching it behind the ears, beaming. "She's so damn fluffy."
"She could rip you apart with her teeth," I inform her, slipping the saddle onto the bear's back.
Nephele shrugs trivially. "She's still adorable," she smiles, stroking the bear's face. The bear shuts its eyes and burrows closer to her hands in response.
I roll my eyes, climbing into saddle. "Come on," I say, extending my hand to her. "Your appointment is soon."
Groaning, she takes my hand, slipping into saddle behind me, wrapping her hands around my waist, resting her head against my neck. "You shouldn't be coming to this anyway," she scolds, and I shrug.
"I'm paying."
She scoffs. "Haven't you heard that it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?"
I nearly scoff in return. Was this union forged in good fortune? As far as I know, we aren't living off luck now, so some superstition won't change a thing. "I hear it's just as unlucky if the bride shows up in a horrendous dress that the groom doesn't like," I reply.
She burrows closer to my back as we enter the wood, taking my warmth as it's given, clicking her tongue in offense. "The dress isn't for you," she responds. "It's for me, whatever I feel most beautiful in."
She's entirely correct, not that I'd ever tell her. I smile back at her tauntingly though. "Then, let's just hope we agree."
She rolls her eyes, huffing her cheek back onto my shoulder.
...
By the time we get to the shop, her nose is pink, and her jaw is chattering. She sighs in relief as we enter the warm shop. The store manages to somehow be cozy, despite its grand scale.
Cherkov, the designer, greets us both with massive hugs and kisses on the cheek. He knows I positively despise that kind of affection from most people, but he doesn't much care, greeting me the same way he greets the smiling Nephele. "Eris," he smiles, clapping his frail, white hands together. "Thank you for bringing me such a beautiful doll to dress."
"That'd be my fiancé," I tell him, bored.
"I'm Nephele," she smiles delightfully at the man, and I could see how regal she looks plain as day now. She will be perfect by my side when I am High Lord. She shakes Cherkov's hand gracefully, the kindest look in her eyes. She was compelling.
"Oh, I will make you a beautiful bride," he grins in return, looping his arm around her, pursing his lips as he turns his attention to me. "You. Leave."
I scoff, indignantly. "Excuse me?"
"Bad luck," he says simply, shrugging as if there's nothing to be done for it.
"That's what I said!" Nephele exclaims, feeling validated. "But hot stuff has decided that it's his marital right to make sure I don't leave with anything ugly."
Cherkov scoffs. "No one leaves my shop ugly."
"The superstition involves actually seeing your future wife in her gown," I rub my temple, annoyed, compromising. "Would it please you two if I were able to help look, but not watch you try on."
Cherkov looks and Nephele, and they share a groan. "Fine," Nephele agrees.
"But whatever she wants, goes," Cherkov says, stealing her towards the racks of white.
"I'm still paying," I point out, following behind them grumpily.
...
I hear sounds of constant struggle from behind the curtain as Nephele tries on the near three dozen gowns we plucked for her. Even with Cherkov's help, she complains of complicated straps and confusing corsets. I don't like that Cherkov is in there helping her, seeing her entirely nude, his hands getting to help slip her into various gowns, but I remind myself that he's probably more interested in me than he ever would be her.
"Everything alright in there?" I call, feeling restless and impatient. I've never been so bored while shopping, but getting to pick out dresses and never seeing them on my beautiful fiancé is as good as edging for me. My jaw is clenched and my hands are fidgety.
"I don't remember okaying anything with feathers," she sputters, dissatisfied.
"Cherkov thought they might make you look swanly," I reply, leaning back. I, myself, had been skeptical too.
"And I was not wrong," Cherkov says proudly. "You have a long, elegant neck, madam. Best to emphasize it."
Nephele chuckles, swinging the curtain open. I raise a brow, not looking down yet. "I thought I wasn't allowed to see any."
She rolls her eyes. "I need you to tell me I'm not crazy," she smirks. "Besides, I can already tell you, I'm not wearing this one."
I chuckle, letting myself look down. I wasn't the biggest fan of feathers either, but somehow, the dress still didn't look horrible on Neph, all things considered. It definitely wasn't the one, but the asymmetrical top and the feathered bottom was quite the unique combination. She did look elegant in the garment.
Still...
"You do look a bit like a bird," I concede. "Which really isn't the goal."
"Thank you," she agrees, turning to Cherkov. "Do we have anything less itchy?"
He tilts his head, considering, a devilish smirk slipping across his face. "Oh, we do have the one gown that you picked," he tells her, his eyes twitching between me and the dressing room.
"What gown?" I ask.
Nephele grins, clearly taking the signal. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She skips back into the dressing room with Cherkov, slinging the curtain closed, leaving me blind.
I hear a suspicious amount of giggling behind the curtain for the next few minutes, a lot of shushing and whispering. A few seconds later and Nephele swings the curtain open, dressed in her plain clothes and the biggest smile I've ever seen. I groan.
"You're not going to show me the dress you picked, are you?"
She shakes her head happily. "You'll have to wait a week."
"Besides," Cherkov says, clapping his hands on his hip happily. I try to look past him into the dressing room, but all the gowns have disappeared from the rack. "I have some... embellishments to add to it before I alter it and send it to the palace in a few days."
I groan, raking my hands through my hair. "Alright," I exhale all my control, sad to relinquish it. "Put it on my tab."
Nephele smiles happily, bending down to kiss me on the cheek.
I banish my blush.
...
After we settle the dress and all of  Neph's measurements, we bid Cherkov goodbye, and I help Nephele onto the bear, who we had just woken from dozing peacefully in the snow. I slip into saddle behind her, keeping her in front to keep her warmer. I forget she doesn't run as hot as me sometimes, and I let my body warm and radiate towards her a little more than usual.
She insists that we head back to the palace through town because it's getting a bit too dark to be in the woods. I know that's not why she suggest it. I think she just wants to see the buzzing and bumbling of town.
Still, we have nowhere to be. Kalias headed off on important business with his mate and daughter earlier today, not long after Nephele and I left. So we didn't have any dinner to attend. And if it says anything about Kalias and his introverted nature, he didn't stick us in his palace like Tarquin or even Tamlin had.
We were put up in a guest palace. All to ourselves and a handful of servant.
With the reins in my hand, I let the bear walk slowly through town, Neph's eyes seeming to light up at the illuminated shops and restaurants.
"Look!" She points. Children are playing in the street, rolling snow into several massive balls, stacking them until it resembles a man.
I chuckle fondly. "You should see the children in autumn," I tell her, recalling the small country towns around our capitol. "They make piles of leaves."
"Piles of leaves?" She questions, the furrow of her brow. "For what purpose?"
I smile, sweeping her hood off her head, admiring the sweep of her ears, cheeks, and jaws, the pink on her nose. "For fun," I reply. "They like to jump into them."
She grins, her eyes catching on something else. "And what are they selling there?" She points to a stand, a massive keg of something that makes the air around it steam. I pull on the reins of the bear until she stops, climbing down.
"Stay right here," I tell Nephele, turning away.