I pressed my lips together and felt my eyes get big, because I was suddenly desperately in need of laughter and I wasn’t sure it was appropriate, or it wouldn’t spring forth hysterical.

“I’ll get Piccola,” she offered without me requesting, moving toward the door that led to what was now her room. “Do you want the white lace? Or the white satin and lace?”

Oh faith.

She was talking about wedding nightgowns.

One Tril had sewn on the way to Firenze. An upper of exquisite lace with short sleeves, a deep V at the front, falling into an elegant, wide skirt of satin and ending in a deep edge of more lace that was at least three inches longer than the length of my frame.

Acres of fabric.

The other I’d had made while we were there.

All lace. Very much see-through. Shorter sleeves that were almost winged. A ruched cross at my midriff and another deep V at the bodice.

The first was elegant and Dellish.

The other was sultry and Firenz.

“The satin,” I declared at the same time Tril said, “The lace.”

She stopped while opening the door to her rooms and looked at me.

I shot her an expression that said, Eep!

Piccola pranced out of Tril’s room, across the dressing room floor, and I bent to her as she dashed into my hands.

“Allo, my darling,” I cooed and brought her up to my face.

She chirruped an excited hello.

“Shall we beg Tril for some treats?” I asked her.

She chirruped an excited yes.

“Treats before satin, Tril, don’t you think?” I said to my friend.

“I think lace, my love,” she replied quietly.

I looked into her eyes and cuddled my wee monkey to my neck. “I’m not ready for lace and Mars tells me he will be ready when I am.”

Surprise, relief and joy washed over her features before smugness entered them.

“Smitten,” she declared and moved to the shelves that she had wasted no time in populating with my things. “Deeply,” she concluded, pulling at the satin and flinging it so it soared in the air anchored to her fingers before taking an elegant fall.

“Extraordinary,” a deep voice came, after which there was a startled chirrup and Piccola crawled up into my hair at the same time Tril emitted a strangled scream.

This was because Mars had flung back the sheers and was sauntering into my dressing room.

“I, uh…Your Grace, um…Your Majesty…uuuuuumm, my new king,” Tril stammered bobbing up and down in a half curtsy, half bow that was so clumsy, I feared she’d topple out of it.