“All right,” said Fawn doubtfully, trying to picture this. She stuck out her left arm and let Nattie wrap the cord several times around her wrist like a bracelet, tying the ends in a bow knot for now. The beads dangled prettily, and she twisted her hand to make them bounce on her skin. A little of her most secret self was in it, Dag said, bound in with her blood; she had to take his word.

Then it was time to get her dress on, the good green cotton, washed and carefully ironed for this; her other good dress being warm wool for winter. That Dag would remember this dress from that night in Glassforge when he had so gently and urgently removed it, unwrapping her like a gift, must be a secret between them; but she hoped he would find it a heartening sight. Ginger and Filly together lowered the fabric carefully over her head so as not to muss her hair or crush the lilies.

A knock sounded at the door, from someone who did not wait for permission to enter; Whit, who looked at Fawn and blinked. He opened his mouth as if to fire off one of his usual quip-insults, then appeared to think better of it and just smiled uneasily.

“Dag says, what about the weapons?” he recited, revealing himself as a messenger sent. “He seems to want to put them all on. He means, all of them, at once. He says it’s to show off what a patroller is bringing to his bride’s tent. Fletch says, no one wears weapons to a wedding, it just ain’t done. Papa says, he don’t know what should be done. So Dag says, ask Spark, and he’ll abide.”

Fawn started to answer Yes, it’s his wedding too, he should have some of his own customs, then instead said more cautiously, “Just how many weapons are we talking about, here?”

“Well, there’s that great pigsticker that he calls his war knife, for starters. Then there’s one he slips down in his boot, and another he straps on his thigh sometimes, evidently. What he wants with three knives when he only has one hand, I don’t know. Then there’s that funny bow of his, and the quiver of arrows, which also has some little knives stuck in it. He seemed a bit put out that he didn’t have a sword by him—seems there’s one he inherited from his pa back at his camp, and some ash spear or another for fighting from horseback, which he also doesn’t have here. Fortunately.”

Ginger and Filly listened to this lengthening catalog with their faces screwing up.