Another gentry custom was made apparent as soon as the couple appeared. There was no giving-away of the bride, nor did she even walk the aisle alone. Shaya and Rurik walked together through the crowd, hand in hand, making their way to the arch of roses as equals. Few gentry even bothered with weddings, but those who did regarded them—rightfully—as occasions of great joy and didn’t believe white was an appropriately cheerful color. So, Shaya wore a silk gown of deep rosy pink and had given up her usual braids to wear her long black hair loose down her back. It contrasted dramatically with Rurik’s pale, blond features, but their expressions of happiness were a perfect match.

The ceremony was as short and sweet as I’d been told it would be, mostly a recitation of the couple’s commitment to each other. The two of them getting together was still kind of incredible to me, seeing as they were so different. Shaya was always reserved and responsible. Rurik was arrogant and crude. Yet, somehow, they’d made it work and reached this point.

“Why, Eugenie,” said Dorian, once the vows were complete and the crowd had erupted into cheers, “are you tearing up? I never took you for the sentimental type.”

“No,” I snapped, running a hasty hand across my eyes. “It’s just hormones. They make me do stupid things.”

“Right,” he said, in a tone that clearly told me he didn’t believe me at all.

“Your Majesties.”

Shaya and Rurik stood before us, bowing low. Custom dictated that the new husband and wife present themselves to their liege lady before they could go on to their family and friends. They’d kind of rolled Dorian into the deal too since they still regarded him as their ruler to a certain extent. I thought the custom was kind of silly. Why should the couple come to us for a blessing? This was about them. We had nothing to do with it. Still, I’d long since learned not to fight against gentry etiquette and surprised Shaya with a big hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said. She had tiny roses tucked into her hair, and their scent surrounded me. The cherry trees had increased their petal production—through magic, no doubt—so that they rained down around us like confetti. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, flushing under the praise.

To the surprise of both of us, I hugged Rurik too. “I’m even happy for you. Though I’m not entirely sure you deserve her,” I teased.

He nodded. “That makes two of us.”

“I wish you many years of joy and fertility,” said Dorian, with a genuine expression of pleasure on his face. He always wore a smirk of some sort, so these moments of pure, legitimate delight were rare.

“Are you guys going on any kind of honeymoon?” I asked, realizing it was something I probably should’ve found out long before this. So much emphasis had been put on preparing for the wedding and its security that I’d never really thought much past today. My question was met with three puzzled looks.