Alvina and Quinn have never been further apart, but their connection to the spirits might be what reconnects them again.
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Quinn av Stál is slowly losing his mind. He's sure of that, and the only thing keeping him together is his fiancé Islo Charr...
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I took a deep breath and corrected my collar and then my sleeves. Àbram slid the vest over my shoulders and smoothed down the fabric. Silk stretched over my back as fine wool covered the front. It was beautifully embroidered with thorns. Then came the blazer, all white. A chain hung from one vest pocket to the other, crossing my stomach. Silver buttons lined my left shoulder and my hair had been slicked back and bound with a white sild band. It had taken ages to try and get it to not curl as wildly as it usually did, and I thought I looked handsome. I had gained a little weight, so my face didn't look as sharp and angular. I'd look good in the pictures, I thought to myself and smiled at my reflection. Maybe I'd look back at them and remember this day as something nice. A day spent in love with my soon-to-be husband.
"You look marvellous, Your Highness," Àbram said and carefully placed the silver thorn crown on my head.
"Thank you, Àbram. Will you be there at the party?"
"I won't have the time. I need to make sure your chambers are suitable for your wedding night."
"No, come." I turned towards him and smiled. "I'd like you to be there."
His eyes widened. "A-are you inviting me?" It was hilarious how he forgot everything he had been taught in regard to how to treat royalty.
"Yes, Àbram. I am inviting you. And please, call me Quinn from now on."
"I can't-"
"You can," I interrupted and turned back to the mirror. "I think I'm ready to go."
"I think so too, your-... Quinn." He bowed and I went into the sitting room, finding my fiancé all ready for me, dressed in white.
"Quinn," he said softly and met me halfway. He bent down and kissed my forehead. "You look gorgeous."
He was the gorgeous one. He looked so tall and his shoulders so broad in his suit. We matched but the suits weren't the same. His had four buttons, two on each row, while mine was a two-button piece. Islo's didn't have the buttons on his shoulder. He didn't wear a crown either. But he looked more handsome anyways.
"Let's do this." He took my hand in his and together we exited the apartment. We walked down the halls of the stronghold. The halls I had played in when I was a child. Giggled and snuck around when I was a teen, stealing kisses from handsome guests. I'd run here with Al, when we tried to escape our tutors. These halls told an entire history of me. My life. And now it'd tell stories about Islo and me. Our life. Our future child. About Isla.
As we ascended the stairs to the main hall, I felt my nerves rising. The whole city would be watching. The radio would be covering our wedding all day so the whole nation could follow the progression of different ceremonies.
"You're shaking, Sweetness," Islo murmured as the doors to the stronghold opened.
