It was when Tessie attempted to insert the only fancy flourish she’d opted for, a tall spray of blossoms made out of silver wire and matching seed pearls, onto the top of said knot that the unraveling began. The tips of the ornament hadn’t been properly finished, and the poor thing was no match for the vigorous thickness of Ana’s curly hair. The seeds began to pour off the unfastened ends, lodging themselves in her bun and streaming down her jaw, a whole host of them losing themselves in her cleavage. She could feel them rolling around under her breasts, captured at last by the empire waist of the dress.
“There’s no time!” she said, waving Tessie away as she attempted to loosen her dress. “They’ll roll out eventually...” and off she went, shedding little dots of pearlescent white as she went.
The second thing that went wrong was slightly more ominous. She’d joined Dex in the drawing room, where McArdle and the curate were waiting in front of the giant trio of Palladian windows.
“Here are the contracts for you to sign,” Dex said, handing her a pen. His face was unreadable, the lines of his jaw as terse as his words. She put nervous fingers to her mother’s necklace and touched the matching ear drops quickly in succession, letting the familiar feel and familial connection soothe her rattled senses. Rain beat against the paned glass, the world outside a grim sea of gray and brown shapes, nearly impossible to distinguish.
She bent over the table and put quill to paper, feeling a pearl roll to the center of her chest and down toward her legs, and atthat moment a large bird smashed into the window, gazed at them all with a stunned and protruding eye, then slid to the ground, trailing blood and feathers as it went.
“Good lord!” said McArdle.
“Heavens!” cried the curate.
“Bugger it all,” muttered the duke. Ana closed her eyes, counted to ten, then continued signing the documents. The words swam before her eyes.
... which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought...
Some miracle, this! She glanced desperately toward the door. As if reading her thoughts, McArdle edged toward it, lodging himself firmly between her and any possibility of escape.
“Ana,” Dex said, “I can’t have you looking like I’m dragging you to the guillotine. Is this really such a devastating prospect for you?”
The curate’s mouth dropped into a comicalOof shock. Ana smiled despite herself. “It’s only...” she began. How to explain? That she had seed pearls clicking around her undergarments, that she had always thought her wedding day might be one of light, joy, and romance?
“I had only just finished writing a wedding scene, did I tell you? A grand affair, Adora and Lord Fortescue’s union. I’d jumped ahead to the end, because writing their wedding was ever so much more attractive than slogging through the impediments that tear them apart in the middle. The wedding wrote itself—a stately chapel, light flowing in through the stained glass, a host of good friends standing in attendance. There were glowing bannspublished in the papers, detailing the glory of their union. Rose petals sprinkled down the aisle. A wedding cake reaching almost to the ceiling, covered in candied fruits and topped with the sugared likenesses of Romeo and Juliet. I’d onlyjustfinished writing it, Dex.” She wrinkled her brow at him, hoping he’d understand without any more guidance from her.
Dex looked at the red smudge running down the middle of the window and grimaced. “And this... suffers by comparison. Emphasis on ‘suffer.’” She nodded, unable to contradict him.
“Never mind. I’m being a bit silly, the real world so seldom matches the written one. I do know that for every reason we spoke of, this marriage is the best course of action. I’ve been compromised, and we must marry quickly.” She finished signing the marriage documents. “There. We may proceed, Your Grace.”
The curate couldn’t have looked more scandalized if they’d all been in their naturally born state of bareness. He grabbed the papers from them, eyes conveying a deep and abiding moral disappointment, and the ceremony commenced.
The third, fourth, and fifth things that went wrong were really just the icing on the nonexistent wedding cake. McArdle, having eaten his breakfast too quickly as a result of obsessively checking and rechecking the list of things he had to accomplish to facilitate the ceremony, emitted a belch when the curate beseeched anyone knowing of any impediments to their union, “Ye are to declare it!” Mortified, McArdle turned purple and snapped his mouth shut, keeping it that way for the rest of the day.
“Doesn’t count as a real impediment, I wager,” murmured the duke to Ana, and she caused further affront to the scandalized curate by giggling nervously.
The ring didn’t fit. It simply wouldn’t pass over her knuckle,which wasn’t a large knuckle and shouldn’t have presented such a problem. Dex glowered at the offending finger and left the plain gold band sitting awkwardly just at the joint. Which accounted for it slipping off her finger at the first possible opportunity and rolling far away, requiring an immediate cessation of the ceremony until such time as the reluctant ring could be found and forced over that same, equally reluctant knuckle.
By the sixth disaster, Ana had mentally thrown her hands up and cast herself upon the mercies of the universe. Whatever cosmic force was attempting to give them pause was overplaying its hand; she felt almost giddy with the horror and hilarity of it all. They were almost done with it when the chimney backed up, and the fireplace began to choke out thick black clouds into the room. Coughing prodigiously, Ana ran to the side windows to push them open and thought longingly of the Clovercote nuptials. So neat, so sweet, and so free of smoke!
“Dex,” Ana couldn’t help croaking, lungs filling with smoke. “Do you think the universe is attempting to tell us something?”
“Too late now,” he said grimly. “We’re married, and there’s nothing the universe can do about that.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Now is the time to sleep, Princess. You need your rest. Tomorrow I will take you to someone who can help you. There is a faery queen known as Gaethryn, whose magic can match that of your uncle the Red Wizard.”
“You refuse to help yourself? Aren’t dragons supposed to be bloodthirsty? We must strike! Together we can avenge my father!” There was no response. She was saddled with a very poor excuse for a dragon, she fumed to herself.
He responded by extending one wing, and gently, inexorably, drawing her into the fold of his body.
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
Dex watched Ana closely as they exited the carriage in front of the crouching stone beast of Drakefell Castle. She’d been strangely quiet during the journey. At first he’d been glad of the silence, then he’d begun to wonder what was wrong with her. Was she ill? Or just having pangs of remorse for marrying him, discomfited by the mishaps and ill portents. Probably the latter.
When he helped her down, she felt so fragile and light in his grasp. He made a flourishing bow. “Your new house, milady.”
“House?” Her eyes widened in what looked like abject terror. “I don’t see a house. This is a fortress. There’s a portcullis. A moat with a drawbridge. Battlements.”