The second wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Hardeion was, in every sense of the word, extraordinary.
In exchange for insisting on a second ceremony, Kael had made one promise: that every detail of the wedding would be arranged entirely according to Ivelina’s wishes.
‘”Then… could we open the ducal manor to the public on the day of the wedding? When I went to volunteer at the poorhouse last month, the children were so curious about my wedding. I’d love to invite the sisters and let the children come along… and the children from the shelters I run, as well… Common-born children rarely get to see things like this. If they could come with their mothers and simply take it all in… If safety is a concern, we could simply arrange for more guards, couldn’t we?”‘
‘”I’d also like to keep the guest list small—close friends and family, if that’s all right? It’s been, well, a bit of a dream of mine! Getting married surrounded by family and the people who matter most, all their warmth and well-wishes… But that might put you in a difficult position, wouldn’t it? There’s the matter of appearances among the nobility, and there’s a certain dignity expected of the head of a ducal house…”‘
‘”Rather than an extravagant ceremony… I mean, I do have a dream wedding I’ve always imagined! My ideal has always been an outdoor celebration—intimate, party-style, just the people closest to us! Not a lot of fuss or grandeur—I think white wisteria blossoms would be so clean and lovely for the decorations…!”‘
‘”For the reception, I’d love to wear a red dress! The, the… a shade close to your eye color, Kael…”‘
‘”And for the bouquet…”‘
Kael thought back to the wedding they had held a year ago—the one arranged in haste, stripped of meaning by the urgency of circumstance. Back then, Ivelina had been like a wild creature poised for flight, always calculating her next escape. The fear of losing her had made him act quickly, pushing through a ceremony first and asking questions later.
And now here was that same Ivelina—the one who had flatly declared she wanted no second wedding—positively sparkling with excitement now that it was actually happening, rambling eagerly about the wedding she had always dreamed of, her words tumbling over each other, her voice breaking with enthusiasm.
She was impossibly endearing.
‘”If it’s your dream and your heart’s desire, then of course it should be exactly that. Whatever you want.”‘
‘”Really? Oh, thank you, Kael!”‘
Kael had made good on every promise. The ducal manor would be open on the day of the ceremony, so that the common people of the duchy could come and watch to their hearts’ content. The guest list would be trimmed to a circle of close friends and family, and the reception would be held in the style of an outdoor garden party.
And now, at last, the wedding Ivelina had always dreamed of had begun.
Dozens of guest tables had been arranged outdoors, along with a ceremonial dais and a long wedding aisle—all of it decorated with white wisteria in full bloom, cascading softly in every direction. It was precisely the sort of beauty Ivelina loved: natural, unforced, alive.
The clear, bright laughter of children rang out from every corner.
Through the wide-open gates of the ducal manor and across the sprawling gardens, a great many children had arrived in the company of the sisters from the poorhouse. They watched the wedding with expressions of pure wonder—faces alight with awe and the breathless, trembling joy of children encountering something magnificent for the very first time.
Some stood with their hands clasped together, gazing at the ducal couple with reverent eyes. Others darted this way and that, craning their necks and rushing about in search of the duchess they adored.
Kael had not divided the grounds into separate areas for nobles and commoners.
That, too, had been Ivelina’s request.
‘”I hate the thought of young children having to feel self-conscious about their station… They already carry so much of that weight in their lives. I want this wedding—just this once—to show them that the world can be something more. Is that… would that be all right?”‘
And so Kael had made note of it in the invitations themselves, stating plainly what to expect. If anyone objected, they were free not to attend.
Not a single person sent their regrets.
To decline an invitation to the Duke of Hardeion’s wedding on such grounds—well. One might as well sever all ties with the ducal house entirely. Business, social standing, every thread of connection would be forfeit.
And besides, the rumors had long since spread to the capital itself: that the Duke of Hardeion was a man of singular and undisguised devotion to his wife.
“Oh! Sister, look! The duke is making his entrance!”
“Mama, Mama! The duke looks just like a prince from a fairy tale!”
The actual prince in attendance—Crown Prince Adrian—clicked his tongue in wounded indignation upon hearing the child’s words.
“Every time Kael’s in the room, my looks somehow cease to exist. I really can’t stand the man. If not for him, I’d be the most handsome man in the empire.”
“No, you’re very handsome too. Don’t be discouraged.”
Reina, Crown Princess and Adrian’s wife, offered her husband these gentle words of comfort before adding:
“Just look at our children. They take after you and are simply wonderful.”
The Crown Prince and Princess had been blessed with twin daughters. Whether ‘handsome’ was quite the right word for little girls was debatable, but in any case—Reina’s command of the imperial tongue had improved considerably in the time since she’d arrived.
“What are you talking about? Our daughters are beautiful because they take after you.”
“Oh, stop it! You’re embarrassing me!”
Reina gave her husband a playful, indignant thump on the chest.
The two of them were absolutely insufferable in their newlywed bliss—rather shamelessly so, at someone else’s wedding no less. They had certainly done things in a slightly unconventional order, but they were very much in the thick of that early, heady joy of new marriage.
As Kael made his way along the wedding aisle, a wave of cheering broke out across the assembled crowd.
“Ahhh! Your Grace! Oh my goodness, that formal attire is—is absolutely—’devastating’! And you’re even more handsome today than usual, somehow! Truly, you are unrivaled!”
“Goodness gracious… Oh my…”
The duchess’s two closest friends—Dorothy and Kate—dissolved into rapturous exclamations. Dorothy in particular looked very close to leaping from her chair and storming the aisle entirely.
At another table entirely:
“I mean. Honestly. Just… ‘wow.'”
Even Janes had been given a day off. He was ordinarily the sort of man who spent every waking hour trailing after the duchess, monitoring her every movement, never more than a few steps from her at any given moment—but today was a special occasion, and he had petitioned his superior with tremendous persistence for exactly this.
He had spent a full week grinding down the master’s resistance, and he had at last wrested free this most singular of days.
“‘Wow.’ I mean—as a fellow man, I genuinely envy him. Just… ‘wow.'”
Hermes, a secret attendant of the Empress, had also arranged leave to coincide with the wedding day. The two men—shadow operatives, both of them—sat at the same table in civilian clothes that looked ready to burst at the seams, marveling ceaselessly.
“And now, please welcome the bride. The bride—please, make your entrance!”
Every pair of eyes in the garden turned toward the white canopy tent, warm with soft amber lighting the color of early morning.
That was where the bridal waiting room had been set up, just for Ivelina.
As though by unspoken agreement, every guest fell silent at once—and into that hush, a gentle orchestral melody began to drift, slow and tender.
One by one, the panels of the tent were drawn aside, and there stood the Duchess of Hardeion, clothed in a gown of pure, immaculate white.
Everyone who had been cheering moments before went utterly still.
She was breathtaking. Truly, achingly beautiful—the kind of beauty that made your eyes sting.
The moment Ivelina realized that every gaze in the garden had come to rest on her, her face turned as red as an ember.
“…’Wow.’ She’s just… so beautiful…”
The first one to voice the thought, naturally, was Dorothy.
“An angel… freshly descended on holiday from the heavens above…? I, a humble mortal, dare to gaze upon the divine…”
That was Hermes.
“‘Ahhh,’ my eyes! Oh heavens above! I think I’ve gone blind—the sheer radiance—I cannot bear it—!”
That was Janes, clutching his chest and gasping dramatically.
The barrage of overwrought declarations one after another made Ivelina freeze halfway through her entrance. She looked about wildly, bouquet in hand—and then, with a sudden burst of panic, spun on her heel and darted back inside the tent.
* * *
