“Crocuta” usually referred to a hyena, but I couldn’t remember any hyena with “spelaea” attached to it.

“Cave hyena,” Ascanio said. “Also known as Ice Age spotted hyena.”

All of us looked at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m a member of Clan Bouda. I know our family tree.”

“How big?” Curran asked.

“Pretty big,” Ascanio said. “It mostly preyed on wild horses. They estimate about two hundred twenty-five pounds or so on average.”

Of course. Why wouldn’t my future have a vicious prehistoric hyena in it?

I exhaled and looked at Roman. “What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?”

“You have to make all the wedding decisions,” Roman said. “You have to select the cake, the colors for the ceremony, the flowers for your bouquet, and you have to stand for a second dress fitting tomorrow at eight o’clock. You also have to approve the guest list and the seating chart.”

I looked at Curran.

“I can take the chart,” he offered.

“Thank you.” I looked at Roman. “I do all this and you stop bugging me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands, looking every inch an evil pagan priest. “I love it when everything comes together.”

•   •   •

THE RECORDING OF the writing on my body was done. The cake would have alternating tiers; the first would be chocolate cake with a white chocolate mousse filling and white chocolate buttercream, and the second would be white chocolate with raspberry mousse and white chocolate frosting. They told me I could have whatever I wanted, and if it was the last cake I would ever eat, I wanted it to be as chocolate as it could get.

The colors were green, pink, and lavender, because when I closed my eyes and thought of a happy place, I saw the Water Gardens with lotuses blooming in the water. I told Roman that I wanted wildflowers for my bouquet. He dutifully wrote it down.

“Thank you,” I told Saiman, as he packed away Dave Miller’s things.

“We’re even,” he said.

“We are.”

He nodded and left.

Roman left too, taking Mary Louise with him. I dismissed Ascanio for the day after we put the desks back where they belonged and then waited for him to be out of earshot.

“He’s gone,” Curran told me.

I laid the drawings out on the floor.

My aunt appeared before me and looked at the pages.

She frowned. “This is the high dialect. The language of kings. Why would he . . . Switch these two around for me.”

I moved the two sheets she pointed at.

My aunt peered at the drawings. We waited.

“Moron.” Erra rolled her head back and laughed. “Oh, that sentimental fool! This is what happens when a man is thinking with his dick.”

Curran and I looked at each other.